He flips me over and pulls my ass up so that I’m on all fours. I can feel the tip of his cock resting right over the entrance to my vagina. Any second now he’ll push in and fill me. We’ll be rocking back and forth, racing towards the glorious release of orgasm. But just before we can join together, Greg calls out, “Cut!”
I’m frozen in a most compromising position. Now that I’m out of the moment, catching my breath, feeling how cold I am since Brice has removed my flimsy articles of clothing (which I honestly don’t even remember him doing), I realize how many other pairs of eyes are in this room. My fall back to reality is sudden and harsh.
Brice is forced to put on a condom, which is fine even though I’m on birth control. What’s not so fine is trying not to move so that when the cameras start rolling again we’re not in very different positions. It needs to be a smooth cut from one camera to the next. Brice is struggling to get the condom on as quickly as possible, I’m sure half because he wants to continue but also so he can stop thinking about how everyone in the room is waiting for him to slip the rubber on over his cock.
“It’s the law is all,” Greg explains. “All intercourse must involve a condom.”
Brice’s cock doesn’t know the law, however. And it’s shrinking under the mounting pressure. When I look back at Brice, I see panic in his eyes. He’s losing his hard-on now that he’s back in reality. As I’m on all fours, it takes some maneuvering to reach back and take hold of his cock, but when I wrap my fingers around it, I pump up and down a few times. In no time he’s rock hard and soon sporting a flesh-colored condom.
“We’re ready to roll,” Greg says while moving his hand in a circular motion over his head as if he were directing a plane where to land. Brice places the tip of his dick on my pussy. The soft contact has me wet again in anticipation. As soon as Greg shouts, “Action,” Brice pushes inside.
I wasn’t wet enough, not after that pause in action, and it feels like tiny fissures rip open inside me as Brice’s girth slides all the way up inside. My fists grip at the blankets and I let out a guttural bark that is fueled by both pain and pleasure. I can feel Brice pause, wondering if he should continue or not. Not wanting to pause again, I groan out, “Give it to me hard.”
So he does.
This is not the passionate lovemaking of the previous night. We are not exploring each other’s bodies for the first time. Gone are the tentative motions, the hesitations and unspoken questions. Now we know exactly what the other wants, and we waste no time in giving it.
Brice has his hands on either side of my ass, pulling me back into him as he humps forward. The sound of our skin slapping against each other becomes a steady rhythm, but Greg did say that they want variety. We can’t just finish like this, though I can feel in the urgency of Brice’s movements that he can’t last much longer. When I look back, I can see that he’s got his eyes closed and is zoning everyone else out. Just like me, he’s imagining it’s just us. But Brice needs to slow down.
I lurch forward, pulling myself away from him so that his cock slides out of me. Then, without pausing, I turn around, grab him by the shoulders, and throw him on the bed. After crawling on top of him, I hover over his pelvis, take hold of his dick, and angle it straight up. Then I lower myself onto him, shuddering as he enters me again.
This time I’m in control, and as I focus on the sensation of being filled, I can throw my head back with my eyes closed and almost forget about all of the filming equipment around us. After about a minute, we’re back in a rhythm and it’s just me and Brice and our mutual ride through the fields of pleasure up to the gates of glorious orgasm.
Brice is thrusting up each time I come down, leading to mighty smacks of his thighs against my ass. I allow every thought to run straight to my tongue, unfiltered and unworried about who might hear it.
“Yes,” I say over and over. “Like that. Like that. God, you’re all the way up inside me.”
Between my words are moans of actual pleasure. This is only our second time having sex, and Brice is unlike any partner I’ve had before. Our years of friendship have somehow interpreted into a connection that can’t be faked. He knows what I’m thinking before I say anything. When he begins rubbing at my clit with a free hand, I reach down and guide him into a better position. I bend down and suck at his nipples, because I remember him mentioning he liked when a certain ex-girlfriend did this.
Despite my frequent webcam sessions, I’ve never actually been dominant in bed. I’ve always let the guy take charge. They usually only focus on what feels good for them, thinking that it equates to similar sensations for me. But Brice knows this isn’t true. Because we’ve talked about these exact topics as friends often do. I schooled Brice on what actually drives girls wild, and from the way he moves under me and shows me attention, he’s obviously taken these lessons to heart.
We’re approaching the point of no return. I can feel it in the urgency of his thrusts and in the vacancy of my mind. Gone are the artificial lights, the cameraman leaning on the bed for a closer view, and the weight of other eyes. Brice and I are all that matters. His hands run up and down my body, cupping my breasts as I throw myself into the last actions leading up to an orgasm that sends shivers down my legs. The gasping scream I hear can’t be me, but there’s no one else it could have come from. I fall forward onto Brice, burying my face in his chest. I want to live inside this moment forever. This cocoon of endorphins and lust and sweat between us, everything outside our bubble shut off for one glorious moment.
We lie like this for what feels like minutes. Each time his cock pulses in the last throes of ecstasy, I reciprocate the feeling by tightening my pussy around him. Just as the lights are infiltrating my eyelids once more and I can begin to remember where we are, Greg calls out, “Cut!” Footsteps returns to life around us and I lift my head from Brice. We’re staring into each other’s eyes as Greg says, “That’s it for this scene. You’ve got a thirty-minute break until the next one. You two did good,” he says with a pat of the bed beside us before turning to discuss something with the sound guy.
I bite my lips and look around the room. No one is paying attention to us, so I choose this moment to plant a soft kiss on Brice’s lips. It’s odd that I would feel that this tiny action is something I need to hide after having just made passionate love on camera, but the kiss is meant only for Brice. I don’t want to share it with anyone else. “It was more than good,” I say before peeling myself away from him.
Brice opens his mouth to say something, but the words catch in his throat. He looks over to the door and when he looks back to me, whatever nervousness painted his earlier features is gone. He’s back to being carefree. “You want to see if Sally can get us some coffee?”
I almost ask him what he was going to say before that, but I get the sense that maybe whatever it is just isn’t quite ripe enough yet. So I let it go.
“Sounds good to me. Then it’s back to work.”
“Work!” Brice says with a laugh as he gathers his clothes from the floor. “I think I’ve finally found a job I won’t mind pulling overtime at.”
Chapter 6
At the end of the first day, a deep exhaustion has burrowed right into my bones. It’s the same feeling I have after spending all day swimming or exploring a new town on vacation. A feeling of every fiber of your being having been used to its limit. It’s all I can do not to fall asleep on Brice’s shoulder in the back of the taxi.
Brice squeezes my hand where it rests on his knee. “Quite the day.”
I nod against his shoulder but say nothing. I don’t have the energy to speak.
“I’d ask if you’re hungry, but I think you ate three cheeseburgers in that last scene before Greg was happy with the shot.”
“It was four cheeseburgers,” I say, the words stirring up a bit of lingering queasiness. I’m still not sure who wants to see people having sex on a fast food counter, but that’s exactly what Greg had set up for our last scene. Brice was the worker and
I was supposed to seductively eat in front of him before we both leapt on the counter and tore each other’s clothes off.
Brice looks out the window and then leans over to peek at the taxi’s meter. “Do you want me to drop you off at your place first?”
“You could stay at my place tonight,” I suggest. “Just for the night. It would make getting back to the studio in the morning easier if we carpooled again.”
Brice tenses beside me. It’s not hard to imagine the scene running through his head: him lying in bed next to me but wondering if his mother is crying in the bathroom, reverting back to her old habit of smoking in secret. He never spends the night, because he’s afraid to leave her alone since his dad died of an aneurysm. He’s always afraid that her manic moods will dip into one of her depressive states while he’s away.
“I don’t kn—” he begins to say, but I cut him off when the perfect solution pops into in my head.
“I hate to invite myself over, but we could both stay at your place tonight. Maybe it’s not too late to order dinner for all three of us. Does your mom like Chinese? I can call in the order right now.”
The tension falls from his face. “That sounds nice. But are you sure? I mean you must be exhausted.”
My only answer is a kiss that lingers and leaves no doubt that I have no interest in spending any time away from him.
Half an hour later, we’re sitting in Brice’s living room, his mother fretting with making sure we both have forks and napkins before she finally falls back into the recliner. She pulls her legs up under her and digs into a box of fried rice. “So, what have you two been up to lately?”
As if on cue, I choke on a piece of sweet and sour pork, washing it down with a huge gulp of water. Brice is looking over at me with knowing eyes that seem to twinkle at my little misfortune.
“Same old, same old,” Brice answers blandly, giving nothing away.
His mom turns to me. “The last time we spoke, you mentioned that you were making some money by selling your art online.”
Brice raises his eyebrows at this. It’s a side of myself I kept even from him. I’d told his mom one night, my tongue slipping up while we were cleaning dishes together, Brice in the other room. Hearing it now, he probably thinks it’s simply my cover story for where all my camming money has come from, but the truth is that it’s a legitimate business I’ve been striving towards for years.
“It’s slow going, but I’m still taking commissions. The problem is that lots of people online want everything for free. Or they promise to give you exposure if you draw something for them. But exposure doesn't pay the bills.”
“Some exposure does,” Brice quips before he probably even realizes what he’s said. His mention of exposure makes me remember how exposed we’ve been all day. But he’s certainly right; it’s definitely paying the bills. “But what exactly are you talking about?”
I bite my lips before admitting it out loud. “You know all those cheesy movies we watch? Well, I like to take iconic scenes and paint them in a sort of abstract interpretation.”
Brice sobers up when he realizes I’m not joking. “You’re serious? Why didn’t you ever tell me?”
I shrug. “I’m not actually any good yet. Besides, it was fun to have a little secret of my own, since you know everything else about me.”
We share a smile before his mother, Maggie, says, “Well, even if you’re not rolling in money quite yet, I’m sure you’ll make it in the end. And if you haven’t made it yet, don’t let it be the end.”
I smirk a bit at her cutesy turn of phrase.
“That’s something you’ve been spouting off for years.” Brice says, handing his mother an eggroll.
“Is it?”
Brice’s mom has always been wonderful to me. I used to spend every weekend over here. She’s the type of woman that you just know was unbearably sassy back in her prime. Now, she’s a mom, both to Brice and to me in a way. I’ve heard a number of her favorite aphorisms before, but never this one.
“All I’m saying,” his mother says, “is that she should do what she loves.”
Brice turns to me, that glint in his eye again. “Have you been doing what you love?”
Knowing exactly what he’s hinting at, I come back with, “Mostly. But sometimes what you love can be a real pain in the ass.”
“Ain’t that the truth,” his mother exclaims, totally oblivious to our double entendre. “I loved your father more than the world, but I’ll tell you, that man could drive me up the walls. Did I ever mention how we met?”
Although I’ve heard this story a thousand times, I tell her that I can’t quite remember.
“He was coming in to interview at my company,” she says, jumping into the story before Brice can stop her. “We were the only two in the elevator when it got stuck between floors. We must have been in there for hours. The man never stopped talking the whole time. The moment I let out that I was on the hiring committee, he began telling me all about himself and his qualifications and experience. All I could think about was why I hadn’t stopped to go to the toilet before getting on this elevator, and this man is here, just not shutting up.
“Well, I finally told him that he could have the job if he didn’t say another word.” She laughs to herself and bites her lips, looking to the ceiling as if she could still see the scene as clear as a favorite movie. “From then on, I swear I didn’t even hear that man breathe. Of course, we were finally rescued, and as soon as both our feet were on solid earth again, he asked me for my phone number.
“’To make sure I have an ally at this place’. That’s what he said. Of course, he still had to go through the interview process, but he got the job without me even having to intervene. He kept my number though, and used it to harass me into going on a date.”
Brice pipes up here. “That would be called stalking today.”
“Maybe so,” his mother says, “but it did the trick for me. Six months later we were engaged. The silly man actually proposed on the same elevator. When the doors swung open, he had a whole party ready on our floor, with cakes and champagne. God, was he ever romantic.”
After the familiar story ends, we finish eating in silence, turning our attention to the TV that’s playing a rerun of some action movie from the nineties that I can’t quite place. When Brice and I go to clean up, his mom shoos us away like errant flies. “You two look like you’ve both had a long day.” She turns to me. “Tess, why don’t you take the fold-out couch? Unless my son is going to be a gentleman and offer his room.”
One look at Brice tells me that neither of us is going to be sleeping on the couch tonight. Still, his mother has always been a bit old fashioned. Despite hoping we would eventually figure out that we love each other, as she used to say, she never left us alone behind closed doors. And despite the fact that we’re adults, she isn’t about to let us sleep in the same room, even as friends.
Not like Brice and I are going to let something like that stop us.
Waiting until his mom is settled down in her bedroom makes me feel like I’m ten years old again. But tonight, after tiptoeing down the hall and closing his door slowly behind me, it’s not with the goal of playing video games until the early morning hours.
“What took you so long?” Brice asks in a whisper. He holds up a corner of his blankets. After sliding in and curling around him, I give him a small kiss.
“I seem to remember a time when it was you being the cautious one. Your first question used to be if your mother saw me.”
He wraps an arm around me. “Back then I was scared that if we got caught that my mom might not let you spend the night anymore.”
“Not worried about that anymore?”
He kisses me on the forehead. “I’ve got bigger things to worry about, I guess.” He pauses, and I can tell he’s reverting back to that cautious side of his. Calculating his next move and my reaction to it. “Like you and me,” he says tentatively. He lifts my chin delicately so we’re eye to eye, the t
ips of our noses just an inch apart. “What are we doing?”
“We’re lying in bed after a very satisfying day of work.” I kiss his nose, unable to resist the temptation any longer. “Were you wanting to have another romp in the sheets? Because I’m actually pretty sore. If we go again, I don’t know if I’ll be able to perform tomorrow.”
“No,” he says, the smile sliding off his face to be replaced with furrowed eyebrows and pursed lips. “I mean what are we doing? Like, what kind of relationship is this?”
I can’t say that the question hasn’t been on my mind as well, but each time it comes to the forefront of my thoughts, some other event pushes it back in line. The past twenty-four hours have been a massive shift from the status quo. They haven’t exactly given me enough time to breathe, much less to figure out where Brice and I are left standing.
“If you’re worried about us not being friends again because all this makes it too weird, well, don’t. I can’t imagine my life without you.”
“Exactly,” he says and tightens his hold on me, almost possessively. “I can’t—and don’t want to—think about a life without you. But with everything that’s happened, it’s not like we can just call each other friends anymore, can we?”
“Friends with benefits. Big benefits,” I say and reach down for his junk, giving his cock a light squeeze. He doesn’t show any signs of arousal though, which I guess is pretty normal, considering the day we’ve had.
“Is that all we are?” From the look on his face in the dim light, this is a question he’s been struggling with. A question whose answer he’ll be taking very seriously.
Brice has always been the more emotional one while I’ve been the pragmatic one. It was only a matter of time before we had a long sit down about how we define our relationship. I guess I was just expecting to have more than twenty-four hours to figure out where I fall on this topic.
Cammers With Benefits (FWB Series Book 1) Page 5