Though she's already a New York Times best-selling author in the nonfiction stakes, thanks to her autobiography My Teenage Dream Ended, former Teen Mom star Farrah Abraham is trying her hand at a new genre: romance fiction! Yes, please to that. Her new novel, Celebrity Sex Tape: In The Making, is the first in a planned trilogy of sexy reads, courtesy of erotic fiction publisher Ellora's Cave. It follows main character Fallon Opal navigating the fame and infamy that comes with a breakout performance on reality TV: a hedonistic L.A. lifestyle full of hot guys, haters, duplicitous publicists, and gay best friends. In a snappy pull quote, Ellora's Cave describes Fallon and her life thus:

"To the world I'm another starlet gone crazy: always traveling, clubbing non-stop, and juggling drug problems and alcohol issues. The truth couldn't be further from that. I'm on a journey to find myself and I'm going to do it without shame — my way."

Now,you might think there are a few semi-autobiographical plot lines apparent — Farrah herself features on the cover, and Farrah Fallon embarks on a sex tape with a male porn star who also hosts a cooking show. (Also, the scenes in said tape mirror the scenes in Fallon Farrah's real-life one just about exactly.) But no, this is a work of fiction in its entirety! There's even a sassy disclaimer to that effect:

"Names, characters, companies, relationships (individual and/or with any business), places, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or are used in a strictly fictitious manner... If anyone wants to try to own to being a villain or a hero in this work of fiction, s/he is self-loathing and paranoid; is an unethical piece of crap; OR s/he suffers from delusions of grandeur. IT AIN'T YOU!!! You…just…aren't…that…interesting."

So there. Even if it's all made up, In The Making is a disconcerting insight into the world of tabloid celebritydom, and the cost (in every sense) of that apparently-not-all-it's-cracked-up-to-be status. If you choose to read it that way, that is; you can just read it for the sex, because there's also a lot of that happening, go figure.

Enjoy this excerpt — exclusive to Cosmopolitan — featuring a steamy scene between Fallon and Ilyan, a boyfriend/sex-fiend character. For context's sake, they've had a bit of an argument at a nightclub just before we join them, on their ride home:

"What the hell was that, Fallon?" Ilyan snapped as he slowed down for a red light.

"What was what? You need to chill out."

"You totally embarrassed me back there." He pounded his knuckle on the steering wheel and frowned at me.

"They were boring. Get more interesting friends and I'll pay attention." I rolled my eyes. I was fine going to the party — I wasn't about to say no to free booze or a reason to get dressed up — but this was ridiculous... I sat and fumed until we reached his building. I got out of the car and slammed the door shut, turning to face him — the moment his cell phone rang.

He held up a finger, no doubt aware I'd been about to let him have it. "Hey, Dad."

I rolled my eyes and followed him into the building. I couldn't even storm off without him — my keys were upstairs in his condo. He hung up before we got on the elevator, but another couple was already waiting for the lift. I managed to hold my anger in, preferring to tell him off in private, anyways.

Ilyan led the way to his front door and unlocked it. I had my rebuttal on the tip of my tongue. The front door closed and he jerked me into his arms. His kiss was hot, hungry, demanding. I found myself melting into it, sinking into his touch, seduced by the taste of him and how he so expertly commanded me with one touch. I pushed at his shoulders. "I'm supposed to be mad at you."

"Be mad at me later. Fuck me now." He didn't let me reply, just swept me off my feet and carried me across the space.

"Mm, okay." It was impossible to think when he kissed me like this, thrusting into my mouth, touching my body. We made it to the dining table. Ilyan kicked the chairs away and set me on the edge. Though we'd had sex on most of the furniture, this was new. He clawed at the zipper, yanking it down. Fabric might have ripped, I wasn't too sure.

My legs hung off the side and my heels dropped to the floor, discarded like my clutch and his keys before them. Cool air skated over my breasts. I'd forgone a bra since I knew Ilyan liked that, so there was nothing to shield my breasts when he jerked the dress down to my waist. The straps captured my arms at my sides. His narrowed gaze devoured my body, touching me with dark intent. I shivered and strained toward him, except he kept me where I was. I loved and hated his strength, how he could control me, throw me around at will. Right now it was fucking hot.

He pushed me down onto the table and held me there with one hand on my stomach and stripped my dress off me, leaving me in just panties. This uninhibited style of sex was new to me, and I was quickly growing addicted. I'd never known the rough abandon or carnal intent Ilyan showed me. My stomach fluttered as he grasped my panties and pulled them. They ripped at the seam on one side. Ilyan and I paused, staring at the bit of torn material. A grin spread across his face and he ripped the other side with a simple flex of his arms.

Ilyan shed his suit jacket and shirt until all he wore were his pants, and those were easy to get rid of. I wanted to do that myself, unbutton his shirt, caress his chest, but Ilyan was the type who wanted all the control when we fucked. It was a small thing to capitulate to his desire, especially when he made me come so many times.

He stepped between my knees, pushing them open. My heart still beat a little harder the first moment he saw me completely exposed. The nearest chair scraped across the floor as he brought it back to the head of the table and sat down. I was his feast, spread out for the taking. He didn't waste time touching or caressing, but we often didn't have time for that. He cupped my ass in both hands, his shoulders keeping me open to him, and lifted me up. I flattened my hands against the table and held my breath as he licked the length of my slit.

My toes brushed his chest and I splayed my hands wider. He sucked on my clit, kneading my ass. He'd surprised me the first time he'd penetrated me in both places, introducing me to a new realm of sexual fantasy. It was easy to imagine this moment happening in a movie. Just thinking about what we were doing and where was so hot I almost came from the mental picture alone. Ilyan put me down and grabbed my hand, tugging me upright.

"Huh?" I blinked at him, a little lust crazed. He dug in his pocket for his wallet and slapped it on the table before kicking off his pants and underwear. I flipped it open and took out the condom he'd placed there this morning — just in case. So far we'd needed all of his just-in-case condoms. I tore the packet open but he took the bit of latex from me before I could roll it on him and did it himself. He pulled me to the edge of the table and thrust into me. I gasped and gripped the edge as my body stretched to accommodate him. The feel of him was growing more familiar. He leaned over me, forcing me back almost to my elbows and thrust, sinking fully into me.

He bent his head and sucked one nipple. I pushed my fingers through his hair and squeezed him with my internal muscles. It felt as if there was a thread of sensation tied from my breast to my pussy, and every pass of his tongue caressed me in both places. At long last he began to thrust, in and out of my pussy. The sound of his breathing, of our joining bodies, it was the only sound in the condo. I groaned, frustrated at the slow pace of his movements, the lack of stimulation to my clit. He'd spoiled me for the most part, giving me multiple orgasms when no one else had ever been able to deliver.

The chair was just behind him and I was able to perch my foot on its edge. When he thrust, so did I. Little sparks went off behind my eyelids at the sensation. Again, he thrust and I lifted to meet him. Oh, that was good.

My orgasm rolled up through my body, warm and all-consuming, I shuddered and whimpered as Ilyan continued to fuck me. Sparks of sensation coursed through my veins, drawing the orgasm out longer as he hit the perfect spot within me. I almost cried out, the pleasure becoming too much, but Ilyan thrust deep and groaned. I panted, relieved he'd come too.

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And hot as this scene reads, it comes (no pun intended) early on in the book — as Fallon's sexual awakening plays out, she gets kinkier. Much kinkier. Without spoiling the specifics, her later liaisons include a hook-up in a club, a hook-up in a limo, and even a hook-up in jail. Oh,and the following exchange takes place too:

I stepped off the bed and into a puddle.

"What the—?"

"Oh, you squirted," Ilyan said casually."

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Farrah Abraham's Celebrity Sex Tape: In The Making is available to purchase as an ebook via Barnes & Noble. It's a perfect dirty read for the beach — just find a spot to sit and read in the shade, because it'll otherwise be difficult to tell if you're burning or just blushing.

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