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Yeah, and then there’s the sex. The actual fucking is pretty amazing, too.
What more could a girl ask for?
I’m smitten with them. Totally and completely head-over-heels in-love. They comfort me and make me feel safe and protected. I know they’d do anything for me, and I have to admit the feeling’s mutual.
I lean over to the bedside table and pick up my phone, careful not to rouse the guys from their slumber. They look so gentle, calm, and tranquil as their chests rise and fall with peaceful sleep—so much different from how they usually are, which is anything but gentle. And that’s the way I like them.
I wonder if they’re dreaming about me, about us together, intimate and naked, and sharing orgasm after orgasm.
It’s what I hope for as I quietly burrow back into their arms. Thankfully, both Chase and Eric remain blissfully asleep.
I turn on my phone and scroll through my social media feed. I don’t know what to expect, and it makes my heart drum harder in my chest.
Am I getting hate messages today? Or will it be hearts and likes? It was different back then, before this fucking crazy endeavor began.
With success came more visibility, and with it came haters.
Tale as old as fucking time.
Everyone feels more confident and protected behind their screens. The paparazzi are one thing—Chase can just beat the shit out of them until they’re too scared to talk trash anymore.
But the anonymity of the web makes them think that they’re safe from Chase’s fucking angry fists. He wouldn’t be able to reach right through the screen and blacken their eyes.
Fucking cowards.
As I suspect, there are people who are supportive of me. But then, there are also the cynical assholes who can’t keep their mouths shut and like to spread the hate, trolling my accounts like the losers they are.
Kara is a dumb bitch who slept her way to success.
I wince and quickly scroll past that snide remark.
I love Kara! She’s such an inspiration for all of us curvy girls who want to get healthy…and take hot dick while they do it!
That one makes me smile. It balances out the rudeness of the negative comments. I take a deep breath, suddenly feeling exhausted by the attacks. I try to focus on the overwhelming joy and support from my followers.
At least they think I’m doing great work by being a role model to women who are in the same situation I once was.
I read some comments about the paparazzi run-in last night and some news articles probably written by some bitter shitheads.
One of the news articles grabs my attention, and I draw the phone closer to scrutinize the details.
Obsessed and fanatical women follow superstar Kara while the pressure intensifies overseas
I read the caption again. I can’t believe this is really happening. I’ve never had insane fans before. I remember seeing them in the crowd yesterday, though. Could it be possible that some of them are out to get me?
Or worse…harm me or the guys?
Taking a deep breath, I shut off my social media apps. I’m dog tired, and it’s too damn early in the morning to analyze all this feedback.
Just when I’m getting ready to drift off to sleep again, my phone buzzes, alerting me to a new text message.
I freeze and hold my breath. I glance at the guys, but they don’t even stir.
Thank fuck, my phone is on vibrate, or they would have woken up from the noise.
I look at my phone and notice that the text is coming from my ex-boyfriend, Ryan.
Fuck, I don’t want to deal with him right now. Honestly, his bullshit is the last thing I need.
