by Tess Oliver
A breath caught in his throat as my dress fell away, revealing the period accurate silky lace step-in chemise that the wardrobe team had sewn just for this scene. Even wet, it felt incredibly sheer and sensual against my skin, or maybe that was because of the way Jameson was looking at it.
He pushed the spaghetti thin straps off my shoulders exposing my naked breasts to the cold air. He leaned down to kiss them, lathing his tongue over each nipple, a gesture that would never be caught by the cameras but that I would certainly not forget anytime soon.
Jameson took hold of my waist and pushed me up against the wall of the barn. It felt rough against my skin just as his body felt hard and smooth against it. He grabbed my wrists and lifted them over my head, holding me captive easily with one hand. His mouth devoured mine as he clumsily pushed down his wet jeans. Jameson was wearing nude colored briefs but I could still feel his heavy and very real erection as he pressed up against me. How badly I want the damn cameras and crew to just vanish. I wanted it all to be real.
Jameson's mouth hovered near mine. From the corner of my eye, I saw the boom drop lower to catch his words.
"So many damn nights," Jameson said. He was Nate but the line wasn't from the script. "Do you know how many damn nights I've spent in this barn, thinking about you, inside, in my brother's bed and knowing all the time that you should be lying naked next to me?"
He kissed me roughly and pulled his mouth away. "Too many damn nights."
He kissed me again and scooted between my thighs. I moaned and dropped my head back, just as I would do if Jameson had me pushed up against a wall, fucking me as if we'd waited for this forever. He gripped my wrists with one hand as the other hand swept under my nearly naked ass.
His hands were still cold from the rain but my skin sizzled with heat. There were people behind lenses, people holding sound equipment and a director watching every move, yet all I could think about was Jameson actually fucking me. My pussy ached with the idea of it, and his thick erection pressing against me only made me that much hotter.
My head tapped the wall as Jameson pushed against me, again and again. I screamed out, giving my best impression of a climax. Physically, I was longing for it so badly it hurt.
Jameson's groan drifted away in the dank building. We both collapsed together as if everything had reached a satisfying end.
Jameson released my wrists and I rested my hands against his chest.
His muscles were still taut with tension and his jaw was clenched tight. It was hard to look relaxed when your pulse was pounding and every part of you was aching for release. His face was inches from mine. I could feel his warm breath on my face as his gaze held mine in a way that seemed more intense than anything I'd ever experienced.
He leaned his mouth against mine and whispered, low enough for only me to hear. "Keezy."
"Cut, and that's a wrap." Sawyer sounded somewhat breathless but then I was not in any kind of state to make a distinction. "Anyone else need a cold shower? Fucking good scene," he said quietly, but it was broadcast through his megaphone.
Jameson backed up a few inches. I grabbed the chemise from around my ankles and yanked the spaghetti straps over my shoulders, nearly ripping them in my hurry to get dressed. Jameson pulled up his pants but didn't take his eyes off of me. I sidled past him, no longer wanting eye contact or to feel the heat of his gaze on me. I swept up the dress and pulled it over my head, then clutched the unbuttoned sides together as I raced from the set to my trailer.
I was entirely out of breath, and my pulse was pounding in my ears by the time I burst inside, pulling the door shut behind me. I stood in the middle of the trailer, holding the wet calico dress closed around me and telling myself a hot shower and a glass of wine and I'd be good as new. The only problem with that was I could still feel Jameson's hands gripping my wrists. My lips were tender from his rough kisses. My pussy was still aching for him.
I skirted past the kitchen counter. My hip brushed against the script and it fell to the floor. I stared down at it. "I think I've got it way harder than you, Cassie. When Nate pulled you into the barn, he truly wanted you. It wasn't just a scene from a movie, fictional sex between two actors." Only one of the actors was feeling every second of it as if it had been real.
There was no denying the heavy tug in my chest, the tightness in my throat. This was one of the worst kinds of heartbreak, having to pretend to love a man that I was actually in love with. What a confusing, shitty mess. I couldn't wait for winter break. It seemed I was going to need to add wine to my cookies and milk grocery list.
I headed into the crappy coffin sized shower and stood under the spout until the hot water ran out. I dried off and wrapped the towel around me as I headed back to the kitchenette for that much needed glass of wine. There was a text from Shelby asking how the rain scene went, but I wasn't ready to talk about it. Not even with Shelby.
I leaned into the squat refrigerator and emerged with my wine bottle just as the trailer door swung open. Jameson was standing in the doorway wearing just a pair of jeans. His long hair was wet and combed back from his handsome face. His eyes were a dark, feral green.
"How many damn nights?" he growled before slamming the door shut behind him and closing the gap between us.
Thirty-Seven
Jameson
I yanked Kinsey's towel free from her body and took only a few seconds to admire her before pulling her into my arms. I'd returned to my trailer going out of my fucking mind with wanting her. I'd paced and downed a few beers before storming back out of the trailer like an animal finally released from his cage. I'd hesitated outside her door for a few seconds, reminding myself that I was in a relationship and that there was a good chance Kinsey would send me away. I had to take a chance. Having her naked in my arms in the scene screwed with my head so much I wasn't thinking straight. Everything about the fictional sex scene seemed real. There wasn't just on-screen chemistry between us, everything with Kinsey felt so genuine, hot.
And as she folded neatly into my arms, pressing her open lips against my mouth, I knew I wasn't imagining the whole thing. She wanted me as badly as I wanted her.
Kinsey wrapped her arms around my neck. I grabbed her ass and lifted her so that her long legs wrapped around my waist. I carried her to the bed. She clung to me and our mouths stayed pressed together as I lowered her onto the mattress. I paused, leaning over her for just a second as she gazed up at me with her round, expectant eyes. She wrapped her arms around my neck and kissed me again, writhing her naked body beneath me, letting me know she wanted this too.
I stepped back on the floor just long enough to drop my jeans. Kinsey eagerly reached for my rock hard cock. I couldn't stop the groan of pleasure from rolling up my throat. She teased the tip with her thumb, smearing the hot moisture until I was slick with it. I leaned back down over her and swept my hands under her ass to lift her pussy higher. She wrapped her legs around my waist and pulled my face back down for a kiss. Both of us released a sigh of relief that had been building up for hours.
She lifted herself higher with each thrust, meeting my power with a power of her own. Our bodies slammed together, shaking the trailer and rattling the manufactured walls. Kinsey cried out, her nails digging into my arms as her pussy convulsed and tightened around me. The feel of her body writhing and trembling with climax beneath me pushed me over the edge, an edge I'd been standing on for-fucking-ever.
I rocked slowly against her milking out the last few waves of pleasure before collapsing down next to her on the bed. She turned instantly toward me, and I wrapped my arms around her. Her lips pressed against my chest as I rested my chin on the top of her head.
"Keezy," I said.
"Shh." She lifted her face and peered up at me as she pressed a finger against my mouth. "No discussion. It'll just fuck things up. Right now, your only job is to hold me, so I can fantasize about being the number one girl in Jameson Slate's life one more time."
"Keez—" I started but she shoosh
ed me again.
"Please, Jameson. It'll ruin this moment. I want it to be perfect in my head forever."
Thirty-Eight
Kinsey
I slept, not sure how, but I could probably give most of the credit to the incredibly warm man sleeping next to me. Even the scent of his soap made me drowsy with pleasure. The tiny annoying voice in my head kept telling me, this is a mistake, you'll regret this Kinsey Greene, but I wasn't feeling an ounce of regret at the moment. Only pure bliss.
I climbed out of bed as quietly as I could to get a drink of water, but since the kitchenette was literally in the same ten square feet as the bed, it was impossible to get a drink without waking the entire house or, in this case, trailer.
I was just putting the glass in the sink as I heard his footsteps and felt his heat behind me. Jameson's arm snaked around my waist, and he kissed the back of my neck. "I could get really used to this short haircut," he said quietly against my ear. His breath tickled and sent a shiver and a giggle through me. "Ah ha, I see you're still ticklish," he growled, then lightly bit my shoulder as his fingertips trailed down my back. He ended the deliciousness with a sharp slap on my bottom.
I gasped, then purred with delight.
"And, I see you still like a good spanking." His voice was deeper, grittier and heat began rolling off his naked skin. He firmly grabbed my waist. I instinctively braced my hands against the counter as his foot spread my feet out wide. His large, warm hand slapped my ass. I pushed it out to let him know I was enjoying it. He knew exactly how I liked it, playful with a slight sting but not too much. The third slap left my bottom hot and smarting.
Jameson's breathing was ragged as he lowered his mouth to my back and pressed a trail of hot, wet kisses all the way down to my ass. He soothed my stinging skin with his lips as his fingers parted the cheeks of my ass. One hand reached around to the front and gently stroked my pussy, now wet with desire. His thumb flicked against my clit. I mewled with pleasure. My legs could hardly support me. I was melting like butter as his mouth explored every intimate part.
My arms trembled as my hands braced the counter. Jameson pulled my ass closer and harder against his mouth. His tongue slipped between the folds of my pussy, stopping to impale me, while his fingers massaged my clit.
"Jameson," I said on a sigh, "fuck yeah," I moaned as his mouth and hand brought me right to the edge. "Please, Jameson, I need you. Now," I pleaded.
He teased me a few seconds longer, then I felt the heat of his body as he rose up to his feet. He grabbed my hips and pulled my ass toward him. He leaned down over me and placed another long trail of hot kisses down my back before his warm breath returned to my neck. "I missed this so much, Keezy. Being inside of you is pure heaven."
My cry echoed around the trailer as he pushed his cock inside of me. He kept a firm hand on my pussy, still massaging my clit as he rocked back and forth, thrusting deeper each time. My limbs trembled. Jameson had to hold me to keep me from collapsing onto the floor.
His cock dove deeper and pushed me over the edge. My body writhed as I cried out. "Fuck yes!" My cries made him move faster and harder until it seemed the entire kitchen counter might shake loose from its foundation.
Jameson pulled his hand from between my legs and held firmly to my hips as he drove into me again and again. Each pounding thrust sent another intense wave of ecstasy through me. His fingers dug into my flesh as he moved faster, more urgently. A low growl rolled from his chest and his body stiffened as he came.
He lowered his chest down against my back. He was wet with sweat. I could feel his heart beating against my back. He kissed my shoulders and the back of my neck as our pulses and breathing returned to normal. Without a word, he grabbed me and lifted me into his arms. My feet kicked a glass off the counter, but it rolled on the vinyl floor without shattering.
"Forgot how long these legs were," he said, as he gazed longingly at them draped over his arm.
He managed to get me to the bed without any more glassware problems. He lowered me down on the mattress, and I quickly hibernated under the quilt.
"Who knew the desert could get so cold at night?" I asked.
"Uh, every person who ever attended third grade," he said, as he snuggled under the blanket and pulled me into his arms. "The infamous desert unit, remember?"
"Guess I was too busy staring at Kyle Norris to hear about the desert habitat." I snuggled even closer to him. Every inch of our bodies was touching. It felt so right and so yummy and so dreamy, I wanted to stay that way forever.
"Kyle Norris, eh? Should I be jealous?"
"Oh yeah, you should. He had a cool Spiderman backpack and his mom was room mother. She made delicious cupcakes for every class party." I pulled his arm tighter around me, letting him know I needed even more of him.
"Shit, can't compete with that."
"Nope, you shouldn't even try." I stifled a yawn. I closed my eyes and grew drowsy in his intoxicating warmth and strong arms. This would seem way different in the morning, confusing and hard to untangle, but I was going to enjoy the rest of the night wrapped in his arms.
Thirty-Nine
Jameson
Sometimes the sound of a person trying to tiptoe around quietly was louder than deliberate movement. Especially when it was obvious the person was trying to sneak away without being noticed. I stayed still in the bed, surrounded by the scent of her shampoo and the sex we'd had all night, as Kinsey quietly tiptoed around gathering her things. She hadn't noticed me and startled when I spoke.
"The sun isn't even up," I said.
She picked up the shirt she'd dropped at the unexpected sound of my voice. "Thought I'd get an early start back to town. Beat the traffic."
I propped up on an elbow. "Why do I feel like that person whose one night stand partner is trying to dash off so there's no conversation or exchange of phone numbers?"
"Told you I'm just anxious to start vacation. I haven't bought one Christmas gift for anyone." She pointed to my jeans that were now hanging over the back of the small couch. "Your phone is on the coffee table. It fell out of your pocket when I picked up your pants. Looks like you have a bunch of voicemails. I'm sure Harlow is frantic."
I sat up and lowered my legs to the floor. "Keezy, we need to talk."
She shook her head briskly. "There's nothing to talk about. We both got turned on by the sex scene, and we needed a little release. No harm done. Guess it means we did a great job in front of the camera." She forced a smile.
"Just a little release?" I repeated, having nothing better to say.
"Yeah, you know, a little fun after several grueling months of filming." She spoke casually, but there was a slight waver in her tone.
When I'd headed to Kinsey's trailer, I had no real plan. I needed her. I wanted her. I was leading with my cock and not my head. I hadn't considered any of the consequences. Now, as I watched her scurry around to get far away from me, letting me know it was just a little satisfying fuck, it felt as if someone had placed a bag of sand on my chest. Once again, I'd made myself the king of dumbfuckery.
She stopped just long enough to smile at me. It was forced and not her real smile. The real one was always catching, making it impossible not to smile back, but this one was painted on. "Have a good time in the Bahamas. I'm sure it'll be fabulous." Even her tone wasn't genuine. She pulled her purse over her shoulder. "I'll see you when we get back."
It was obvious the last thing she wanted was any kind of conversation about us. I needed to just let it go or risk losing her completely, even as a friend.
"Drive safely and have a good holiday." It was the only lame ass thing I could think of to say. I watched as she rolled her luggage out the door of the trailer and closed the door behind her. She never looked back once. She couldn't wait to get the hell away from me.
Forty
Kinsey
I'd found, after a few days of sitting in my house, watching nonstop classic movies and avoiding civilization and holiday cheer in genera
l that I did actually have a limit on cookie consumption. I couldn't even look at the cold ones left on the pan. I scraped them free and tossed them into the trash, then walked to the front window.
It was a typical blue sky, sandal wearing Christmas day in California. The neighbors, a pair of high caliber lawyers, had bought a matching pair of motorized kid-sized Corvettes for their twin daughters. I'd sat on my balcony for a good hour watching them cruise up and down the private road in their pink and baby blue cars. The entire time, all I could think of was how badly I wished I could drop myself back into childhood. We didn't have enough money for toy Corvettes, but my mom was always awesome at picking out just the right gifts. I got my first real bicycle, with gears and handbrakes, on my tenth Christmas. I felt like such a big shot. I also nearly sent myself over the handlebars when I braked too hard on my first few rides. But it was an awesome neon pink color, my favorite at that time. If I thought about it, I was still a big fan of neon pink.
"That's what I need," I muttered as I headed down the hallway to my bedroom. I rummaged through my drawer for my neon pink tank shirt. It was easy enough to find in the sea of grays and muted blues. When I had become such a color prude? I pulled off my lovely, oversized gray t-shirt and pulled on the pink tank. I walked to the mirror and brushed my hair behind my ears and stepped back. "There, that's better. Can't be cheery in gray. You can get past this, woman," I said to my reflection. "You are Kinsey Greene."
