On Location

by Sarah Echavarre Smith

  Drew’s expression turns hungry once more. “How close are you?”

  I swirl my hand faster and faster. “So . . . so . . . close,” I whimper.

  Gripping me by the hips, he thrusts back into me with one smooth, firm slide. And then he employs that steady rhythm my body loves so much already.

  When all those tingles inside me turn to fire, that’s when I know I’m on the verge. It’s likely due to the winning combination of my hand and Drew’s incredible technique. My insides, my skin, my bones, my brain—everything ignites. Stars cloud my vision.

  “I’m not gonna be able to last much longer, Alia,” he grunts.

  “Me either,” I yelp. And then I’m gone.

  My legs splay out as orgasm levels me. It moves like a never-ending roll of thunder, sending pleasure everywhere inside me. I feel it in my every muscle; in my blood, which burns hot; in my chest, which feels like it’s going to burst; in my lungs, which are on fire. It’s absolute ecstasy, every part of this. This orgasm is grabbing hold of every single part of my body, and it’s not letting go until it’s finished with me.

  With my free hand I grip his shoulder to steady myself, digging into that smooth skin and hard flesh with my fingertips.

  “Fuck yeah,” he grunts.

  His raw reaction is everything. The gasp-shout that rips through me earns a satisfied grin from Drew. It’s the last thing I see before my eyes roll to the back of my head for the millionth time. Then my head falls against the mattress and my vision goes black. My ears ring. And then I blink and look up just in time to watch Drew as he moves above me, groaning through one last thrust, his gaze positively feral. Those sparkling eyes of his are dilated and there’s a hazy look in them, like he’s drunk off this pleasure—just like me.

  His body tenses above me; then he stills. A beat later he lowers his head, kissing along the side of my neck.

  I moan, feeling heavy and light all at once.

  “Goddamn it, Alia,” he mutters, his mouth on my shoulder.

  He leaves me with another light kiss, then sits up and slides off the bed to toss the condom in the bathroom trash can. Then he walks back over and falls into bed, cuddling me into him.

  “So? What’s the verdict?” he asks.

  Frowning, I look up at him. “What?”

  “Your sex toy drawer. I gotta know if I still measure up.”

  I press a kiss to his collarbone. “Oh, you more than measure up. There’s not a sex toy in my apartment—on this planet—that compares to you.”

  Closing my eyes, I rest my head against his chest, his thundering heartbeat lightly tapping against my ear.

  “I’m flattered,” he says. “But I’m not done.”

  My eyelids fly open, and a giddy smile spreads across my face as I gaze up at him. “Already?”

  “It’s an old party trick of mine.”

  I burst out laughing, then push myself up and straddle him. I settle my legs on either side of his hips and start to slowly grind myself against his pelvis.

  “How many condoms do you have left?”

  I feel his hardness underneath me, teasing me that he’s already ready for more. His jaw tightens as he takes a breath and that familiar look of concentration crosses his face.

  “Two,” he says, his voice strained. He digs his hands into the fleshy part where my hips meet my ass.

  “We’ll definitely need to do a drugstore run. But first.” I lean over and lead him in a long, teasing kiss until neither of us can breathe properly. And then we do it all again.

  * * *

  • • •

  “I . . . What the . . . Holy crap.”

  I chuckle at Drew. “You keep saying that.”

  He stands at the lookout point where we’re parked in Bryce Canyon National Park to film a few panoramic shots of the hoodoo formations.

  “I’ve never seen anything like this before,” he says. Countless thin spires of rock in every shade of orange fill the basin below us.

  “My apong said looking at the spires here in Bryce reminded her of the beaches in Palawan.”

  “Really?”

  “It didn’t make sense to me either. But then she explained that it was because of how vast and endless the view was. She said looking at the viewpoints here reminded her of how she felt whenever she gazed out at the ocean in the Philippines. She felt the same awe-inspiring feeling, like both the rocks and the water could go on forever and ever.”

  The look Drew flashes me has me both giddy and heartened. It’s like he understands just how special it is for me to share these memories of my grandma in this place.

  “That makes perfect sense. And it’ll be a great tidbit to include when you produce your series about Palawan,” he says with a soft smile.

  “Maybe.” Glancing down at the ground, I’m feeling more hopeful that someday it’ll actually happen.

  “That’s Bryce Canyon for you,” Joe says from behind his camera, which is positioned next to Drew and me. “Utterly breathtaking in every sense of the word. It leaves you speechless.”

  Drew glances at me and winks. “You and Bryce Canyon have that in common,” he says softly, so only I can hear.

  He leans over and rests his hand on the small of my back for a brief second. Then he winks before his arm falls back to his side, and I’m left gnawing my bottom lip, trying to keep it together.

  “Damn, Dunn. Is my hand on your back really all it takes to get you to look at me that way?” he whispers.

  I scrunch my face to hide my cheesy smile. “It’s just . . . the perfect combination of intimate and unassuming.”

  “I’ll have to do it more often, then.”

  He taps my back for a quick second once more before turning back to study something on his tablet.

  Around us the crew is busy framing shots and going over the shot list for the day. I’m thankful because that means Drew and I can take this moment to share a long bit of smiley eye contact without having to worry if anyone suspects anything.

  Until we came to shoot at Bryce, I spent every free evening in Drew’s hotel room . . . or he came to mine. We had to make two drugstore runs as a result, and we’re nearing the end of our current box of condoms.

  It was the single greatest week of sex I’ve ever had in my life. My thighs were constantly red with beard burn, and I’m operating on some kind of post-orgasm endorphin high I’ve never experienced before. Rylan and Haley have both asked me multiple times over the past several days why I’m smiling so much. I quickly make up something about being so happy with how the shoot is progressing; then my face inevitably turns red and I squint down at my tablet or phone or whatever I’m holding in my hand and change the subject.

  It’s a strange turn of events . . . I started out this shoot with a relationship history that would rival these barren desert Utah landscapes. And now I’m on cloud nine smiling uncontrollably because of Drew Irons.

  But it’s more than our physical connection that endears him to me. Just spending time with Drew is the highlight of my day, whether we’re in bed together, sharing a drink at a bar, or grabbing food with the crew.

  It’s also the fact that it’s an absolute pleasure to work with him. We collaborate like two colleagues who have worked together for years.

  Tablet in hand, Drew leans over and asks me to review tomorrow’s schedule. Then his eyes cut to me. “I’m going to need to make a drugstore run for some . . . supplies.”

  I bite my lip at his whispered tone, then dart my stare back to the tablet screen, pretending to squint at something. “We’re staying at a shared condo for the Bryce shoot. Remember the rules?”

  “Oh, right. The ‘no sex when we’re in a shared living space’ rule. I forgot.”

  I give his arm a playful shove. “Look, I know we were so exhausted when we checked into the condo late last night that ev
eryone collapsed in their rooms and went straight to sleep, but I have a feeling you remember that rule.”

  “A few days of mind-blowing sex can make a guy forget just about anything.”

  I fight the smile tugging at my lips. “We gotta be professional. Remember?”

  He nods once. “Of course.”

  I check the time and see that Blaine is late, as usual. “Well, we’ve been here an hour and Blaine is nowhere to be found. You ready to hike down to the basin and shoot?”

  “Ready.”

  An hour later, we’ve packed the gear up and hiked the half mile down the nearest trail to kick off the first day of filming the iconic hoodoos that make Bryce Canyon famous. After studying his lines all morning, Drew nails the first several scenes. I smile as he delivers tidbits about how Bryce Canyon isn’t actually a canyon—it’s a series of cliffs and basins. He’s in the middle of explaining how the hoodoo rock spires are made of limestone while walking along the hilly trail when we hear shouting behind us.

  “Cut!” I yell, then turn around to see Blaine jogging down the trail over to us.

  “Don’t worry, everyone! Your superstar is here!” He’s grinning wide and decked out in lime-green cycling gear for some reason.

  When he makes it over to us, he stops, his eyes zeroing in on Drew. Then he frowns and tilts his head. “What the . . . Why are you guys filming Drew doing the scene?”

  “We’re setting up the shot,” I say to him. “We needed to do something if you’re going to show up two hours past call time.”

  He turns his head and frowns at me like he doesn’t quite believe me. I hold my breath. If Blaine figures out that we’ve replaced him, he’ll surely flip out. He may not be willing to consistently put in the work of a show host, but he sure as hell still wants the title and credit.

  “Well, I’m here now.” Blaine glares at me for a second, then turns around to face Drew, who’s standing several feet away. “Can you run through that scene again, Drew?” Blaine hollers. “That way I can see how it goes and then film it myself.”

  Even from where I’m standing, I can see Drew’s jaw tense as he bites down, displeased at Blaine’s request.

  “Sure thing, man,” Drew answers.

  For the rest of the shoot until sundown, we film Drew’s scenes and Blaine’s half-assed attempts. Inside I’m simmering, annoyed that we’re wasting all this time filming Blaine when I’m just planning to use Drew’s footage.

  After the final shot just before sundown, we wrap up.

  “That’s a wrap!” I call out.

  Everyone claps. Drew gives Blaine a high five and praises him on a job well done. Blaine eats it up, beaming while babbling nonsense about artistic expression. Drew nods along with a glazed-over look in his eyes.

  Blaine announces he’s going to meditate among the hoodoos. I flash him a phony smile and a thumbs-up and follow the rest of the crew back up the trail to where we’re parked.

  Despite the chill in the air, we’re all drenched with sweat by the time we hike back up to the parking lot.

  “See you all back at the condo?” I say, wiping the sweat off my brow.

  Everyone nods or says yes between gasps for air or gulps of water. Except for Joe, who only seems mildly out of breath. I glance over at Drew, who somehow looks like a fitness model, even though his face is red and covered in beads of sweat.

  He walks over to stand next to me while he digs through his pack for the keys to his truck.

  “Welp, I’m going to need a shower after that,” Wyatt says, his face and clothing covered in sweat.

  “That’s the annoying part about Bryce,” I say. “All the trails are downhill first, then uphill.”

  “Damn Mother Nature,” Wyatt mumbles as he takes off his jacket. “I call dibs on the shower first.”

  “No way.” Joe laughs as he loads his equipment into the van. “You always use up all the hot water. Every shoot I’ve ever been on with you, you’re a hot-water hog. Let someone else go first.”

  While Joe and Wyatt get into a joking argument about bathroom-sharing etiquette, Drew pivots his body to me. The collar of his long-sleeved T-shirt is soaked in his sweat. His neck and the top of his chest glisten with perspiration. It makes my mouth water.

  “You know,” he says softly, “the economical and environmentally conscious thing to do would be to take a shower together.”

  “Behave yourself,” I say to him quietly with a naughty lift of my eyebrow.

  A playful smirk dances on his lips. Then he winks at me before loading up his truck. When he turns and bends over to haul equipment and toss it inside, my mouth waters once more. All that bulging muscle under that sweat-soaked fabric. It would be heaven to see Drew soaking wet, to run my hands all over his body, to let my mouth wander all the way—

  He slams the door shut and spins around to me, the corner of his mouth quirking up into one hell of a sexy smirk. “I wouldn’t dream of breaking the rules, Dunn. Even though it would be very fun . . . and very, very worth it. Don’t you think?”

  A spark ignites in his hazel-brown gaze as he wiggles his eyebrows. Then he softly taps the small of my back with his fingertips. My entire body tingles. He turns away before I can respond. But I already know my answer.

  * * *

  • • •

  Two hours later I’m lying on the bed in my room of the condo rental after a long, hot shower. I should run to the kitchen and scrounge up something to eat . . . but what I’m hungry for isn’t food.

  What I’m craving is that sexy man in the bedroom down the hall from me, who’s probably lying in bed all shower fresh, wearing nothing but those snug boxer briefs that make me go gaga every time I see him in them.

  I groan into my pillow, annoyed that for the next week, we can’t do anything with each other because we’re sharing this rental with everyone else on the crew and I don’t want us to get caught.

  I sigh, wondering if the raw want for Drew that’s simmering inside me is going to dissipate at all over the next few days.

  “You know it won’t,” I mumble to myself.

  Just then my phone buzzes with a text. I grin when I see it’s from Drew.

  Gotta admit, as good as that shower felt, it would have been a million times better with you in there with me.

  Smiling, I let out a groan into the bedsheets. It seems I’m not the only one who’s got impure thoughts on the brain.

  Me: We said no dirty sexting, remember?

  Drew: You said it. Not me

  Me: You agreed to it

  Drew: Argh okay I did . . . but come on . . . tell me you’re not aching for some alone time.

  I stare at my phone screen and silently admit that he’s right.

  Drew: Tell me that you don’t wish you could have me in your bedroom doing the dirtiest things to you right now.

  I bite my lip at just the thought.

  Me: Okay yes.

  Me: I want that very, very much.

  He sends a devil emoji. Just the sight of that smirking purple icon makes me chuckle. And then I think for a second. No one makes the rules but us. Who says I can’t break them for one night?

  Me: Okay, listen. I’m still not cool with sending naughty photos to each other . . . but you’re right about the rule thing. Maaaybe it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world to bend them a bit.

  He sends a dead-face emoji, and I cover my mouth as I laugh.

  Me: If you wanted to dirty text a bit, I wouldn’t be opposed.

  He sends three high-fives, and I burst out laughing.

  Me: Is that a yes then?

  Drew: It’s a hell yes.

  Me: Then tell me . . . if we were in the same bed together . . . what would you do to me right now?

  Drew: It’s going to get dirty. Very, very dirty. Are you ready for that?

 
Me: HELL YES!

  Drew: I’d kiss you softly at first, teasing. It would start slow and light, then get harder and more desperate.

  Drew: You’d barely be able to catch your breath.

  My chest flutters and my breathing starts to pick up. Just the thought of kissing Drew has me in a tizzy already.

  Me: And then?

  Drew: And then I’d strip all your clothes off.

  Drew: I’d ask you to get on the bed, on all fours, facing away from me.

  My eyes go wide. I think I know exactly where this is going, and holy hell, do I love it.

  Drew: I’d kiss up your legs, so slowly. So gently.

  Drew: Sometimes I’d use my tongue.

  Drew: Sometimes I’d use my teeth, gently scraping them along your impossibly soft skin.

  Soon my chest is heaving as I pant. I’m achy all over with want, wishing this very act could be playing out in my bed right now.

  I slide my hand down the waistband of my pajama shorts and touch myself softly, tentatively.

  Drew: You’re not saying much, Dunn.

  I bite back a smile, then type out a response with my free hand

  Me: That’s because you’re making me so hot right now, I can’t say anything. I can only touch myself.

  He sends a mind-blown emoji, and I grin wide.

  Me: Keep going. Don’t stop. Please.

  Drew: I’d keep kissing up and down your thighs until you couldn’t take it anymore. Until your legs are shaking so bad, you could barely stand up. And then I’d grab your beautiful, bare ass, and finally kiss you from behind in the place you want it most.

  I let out a breath as I circle my fingers around that very spot he’s talking about. I close my eyes, the pressure building and building in my chest, my toes curling, my skin heating, my mouth watering.

  Drew: Your legs would finally give out. You’d fall on the bed, you wouldn’t be able to take it anymore.

  Drew: You’d groan into the mattress, into the sheets.

  Drew: And then I’d grab you by the waist and pull your legs up, holding them up with my arms.

  Drew: I’d slide in, take you fast and hard.