His hands travel quickly down both my legs, squeezing and kneading, bringing life back into them. Then, grasping my hips, he lifts me so that my back ...s no longer on the bed. I am arched, resting on my shoulders. What? He’s kneeling up between my legs… and in one swift, slamming move he’s inside me… oh fuck… and I cry out again. The quiver of my impending orgasm begins, and he stills. The quiver dies… oh no… he’s going to torture me further. What for?“Please!” I wail.He grips me harder… in. I love being loved, I suppose. Yes, I did love him, Edgar, and in a way, I always will ... but, and for some reason I want to tell you something that I have never, ever told anyone ... Brad never loved me, never.”“Because he loved himself too much?” I managed to suggest.“Yes, you are right, I guess he did. He was selfish. I guess we actors, we are all narcissistic creatures, cravin’ recognition, adoration ... love.”“From what I understand, both of you are loved by millions.”“Not much. More

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