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“Harder. Fuck me harder, Griffin.”
I wanted him to ravage me. I’d been on the verge of orgasm since he’d entered me, a tingling bliss radiating throughout my body but ready to explode at any given moment. The sensation finally reached its peak when he grabbed my waist and went even deeper, thrusting with more force. My skin tightened, and a rush of heat ran through me as my orgasm rose to the surface, causing my entire body to shake.
When Griffin looked into my eyes and came inside me, it was the most intense feeling I’d ever experienced, certainly unlike anything I’d ever felt before. We both screamed out in unison, our groans of pleasure echoing throughout the room.
Breathless, I lay under him on the desk, a pile of sated mush as he covered my face in kisses.
“Hey,” he said through heavy breaths.
“Yeah?”
“The lights are on.”
I looked around. “They are, aren’t they?”
“I’m your first.” He smiled.
“You are.”
It hadn’t even fazed me that the lights were on, that he could clearly see every inch of my naked body. I knew that was because I fully trusted Griffin. Not to mention, I was too busy losing myself in him. He’d taken me with every ounce of energy he had left in him, playing my body like an instrument—fucking me like the rock star he was.CHAPTER 22
GRIFFINI was starting to think I could seriously live this recluse life forever.
First off, who else could say they got woken up in the morning being kissed by a pig? Not sure if that was what Hortencia was doing, but her snout was on my mouth, so I had to assume it was something along those lines.
Our first day together consisted of morning sex, followed by a walk with Hortencia, followed by more sex, then a two-hour lunch of tapas made from whatever the hell she had in the fridge. We topped off the afternoon with Luca reading me some of her latest book while I rubbed her feet and then talked her into more sex before a nap. Then we woke up, had dinner, and stayed up talking until it was time to go food shopping.
Ironically, heading to the supermarket in the middle of the night actually worked quite well for a celebrity trying to hide from prying eyes. It was as if some of Luca’s strange habits were made for me, really.
In Los Angeles, I had to wear a hat and sunglasses anywhere I went day or night if I didn’t want to be recognized. Here, I wore nothing, deciding to risk it as we ventured to the market during Luca’s usual time.
It was nearly empty. And it was bliss.
As Luca tapped with her index finger on a watermelon, I couldn’t help but notice how cute she was. She held it close to her ear. With her focused expression, you would have thought she was listening to the ocean inside. Her life may have been sheltered, but she certainly appreciated the little things. I was starting to see that the little things—these moments with her—were the big things. I wished I had more time here in Vermont to experience them.
“What are you doing?” I finally asked, referring to her examination of the fruit.
“I’m trying to see if it’s any good. There is a process with picking watermelons.”
“And here I was thinking I was the expert in fondling melons . . .”
“Oh, believe me. You definitely are.” She winked.
I laughed. “So what’s the trick to knowing whether it’s a winner?”
“Simple. If it’s hollow inside, it’s probably good.”
“Sort of the opposite of humans, eh? That’s how I felt before I found you. Hollow inside. Makes for a great melon but a rotten human.”
She put the watermelon down and placed her hand on my cheek. “That makes me sad.”
I grabbed on to both of her wrists. “I don’t feel that way anymore. Not here with you. I feel like a human for the first time in years. This—just being at the grocery store with you—it feels so freeing. You’d think that having all the money in the world gives someone freedom. But it’s different when you’re a celebrity. The real you is essentially imprisoned by your persona. You can’t ever really get the life you had before—the anonymity—back. So anytime you can feel halfway normal again, even if it’s fleeting, is like a gift.”
“Do you regret it at all?”
Pondering her question, I really had mixed feelings. “I’m proud of what I’ve accomplished. Music has always been an important part of my life, and to be able to do this for a living shouldn’t be taken for granted. But there’s no doubt I didn’t quite know what I was getting myself into. Even if I regret it now, I can’t change anything. So I try to just look forward not back. What I need . . . is to figure out a way to have some kind of happy medium.” I looked around. “And this conversation is far too deep for the produce aisle.”
