Page 48 of The Actor and His Secret

I start up a rhythm, working his cock, one hand moving to the base because even when I try I can’t fit it all in my mouth. The noises Nikos is making are so hot I think that it wouldn’t take much for me to come. I could get off on the way I’m making Nikos pant.

‘Honey, I’m - '

I can tell that Nikos is close by the way his cock is twitching and his thighs are tensing, and I hum as I lower my mouth back down over him. The slight vibration sends him over the edge, his cock pulsing as he shoots cum down my throat.

He pulls me off his cock before he’s finished, coating my chin like he owns me. Like I’m property.

I swipe a hand across my face, Nikos’ come coating my palm, and then stare him in the eye as I lick myself clean.

‘You’re a menace, Honey,’ Nikos pants, his hands tightening around my waist.

I’m whining and practically crying I’m so eager to come, and all it takes is Nikos hauling me up and grinding a palm against my length before I’m shuddering through an orgasm that feels like it lasts a lifetime. I swear that I black out a bit, sagging against Nikos.

I cry out as I come, not even worrying about the air stewardess hearing.

I wouldn’t mind if everyone in the whole world knew that I belonged to Nikos Ridge.

Turns out, my moan wasn’t so muffled. Just as I get back to my feet, a pretty face pops around the door to the cockpit. ‘Did you require something, Mr Ridge?’

‘No, no,’ he replies, pushing distance between us, reminding me to play the part of dirty secret, instead of open lover. ‘I’m rather satisfied at the moment.’

I offer her a weak smile, hoping she doesn’t see the smudge of his cum still on my chin or the wet spot darkening my trousers. She nods, sweeps her eyes over us, and disappears. The moment the door closes, we burst into a fit of giggles, like naughty schoolboys.

I let myself laugh, even if it hurts to remember that us, this–it's nothing more than a lie.

18

NIKOS

We arrive in Thessaloniki airport after a short, but clearly enjoyable, three-hour flight. It takes a further hour to taxi the jet, wait for a car to pull up, and get our luggage gathered.

But my sense of peace is shattered as we’re greeted by the early signs of press. It’s well into the evening already, the sky painted black and speckled with stars. It makes it easier to see the flashing lights of cameras as Greece’s media await my arrival.

‘There really is no rest for the wicked, is there?’ Oli says from behind me. I keep him away from the jet’s window, not wanting him to be caught in the crossfire.

‘It would seem that way.’

I lean against the wall of the jet, mind whirling with how this was possible. No one knows I’ve booked a flight to come except Selina. She told Megan so Oli could get time off work. But clearly, news is out. The private jet company wouldn’t risk exposing my schedule for fear of being sued, and I trust that none of the air stewardesses were posting on social media about me - they'd be fired on the spot.

For the second time, discomfort swirls in my gut. Selina. Had she told someone else besides Megan? Paranoia sings in my ear like a devil on my shoulder.

‘Mr. Ridge?’ The pilot calls as he walks back up into the jet. ‘It’s taken a moment to arrange the necessary protocols with the local Greek police, but they’ve allowed for your driver to collect you straight from the runway. The car is on its way round now and should be ready for you in a few minutes. Would you both like to follow me?’

‘Efcharisto, Michael,’ I reply, allowing the Greek to roll off my tongue. My accent, although weaker than it once had been, still comes naturally. I don’t get to practice my mother tongue much more than speaking it at the family-owned Greek bodega on the corner of my block back in New York.

Oli makes a choked noise behind me, and the sound goes straight to my groin.

‘Parakalo.’ The pilot nods, tipping his hat off in a sign of respect.

As he promises, we hear the rumble of an engine and I look out the window to see a car driving towards us. The cameras are still flashing in the distance, and the thought of stepping out of the plane makes me sick.

‘It’s going to be ok, Nikos.’ Oli places a comforting hand on my shoulder. He must have noticed how tense I’d gotten.

Is it going to be ok? My father likely knows where I am already. My attempt to run away from my problems, just like I did when I was eighteen, is proving to be a waste of time. But there’s another problem, and he’s standing behind me. As much as we toy with the risk of being together, it’s one thing convincing professionals that my and Oli’s relationship is purely platonic. He’s a publicist for the book my new movie is based on - it's not a stretch that we’d be seen in London together.

But the second the gossip sites catch wind that I’ve flown home with another man? It would be a disaster of epic proportions.

‘Honey, I hate to ask this of you.’ I reach for the blanket from the chair at my side, imprinted with the private jet’s logo on the baby-blue material. ‘Do you mind?’

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