“Oh? Am I just helping you live out your high-school throwback jollies all over again, then, darlin’?” He grinned and then groaned.
“Mmm. This didn’t happen to me as a teenager. You feel so…big,” she said, her head falling forward as she shortened her movements.
“I am big,” he said with no trace of embarrassment. “And these are getting in my way.” He thumbed the edge of her panties and wrenched them to the side. She should have been shocked, she should have been blushing furiously, she should have been ashamed for pressing her bare, wet flesh to his, but she felt nothing but parching, violent heat as he urged her down against him.
She tipped forward, her limbs weak, to bury her head in the crook of his neck. She gripped his shoulders, pressed her forehead to his collarbone, panting. She felt his hand at the back of her head, stroking through her hair, and his voice came muffled through the curtain of it, his busy fingers spurring her at the small of her back, rocking her so that she slid along his length. The enticement was mind-blowing. The urge to rise up just so, so that her next effort downward would seat him inside her was almost undeniable.
“I was twelve when I got my first camera. A camcorder, really, bulky and heavy and, oh, Greg.” She wasn’t sure what was making her open up to him, answer his question, but she felt strangely protected with his arms wrapped around her.
“Keep talking.” His voice was strangled.
“I was very shy as a child, but behind the camera, I was brave, had adventures…”
“Faster.” He rocked her himself, not waiting for her to match his demand. Electricity zipped along her skin, made her toes curl.
“You’re right. It’s a buffer, it’s safe. But I’m good at it, and…”
“And?”
“And it makes me feel powerful, in charge, like I’m creating whole new worlds. It feels just—”
“Just like this?” His smile was tight, with a control that Mack didn’t have any grasp on. Every synapse fired, every nerve ending hyperaware.
“That’s it,” he said, and his voice was so buttery and hot that she could almost taste it. “So good, Mack, baby, so fucking perfect.”
She arched against him over and over, angling so the pulse of his flesh hit her just right on every press, lifting her head to catch his gaze. The triumph in his eyes made her want to slap him. Instead, she focused on the shimmering precipice just behind her eyelids, knowing that she could come like this, if he would just…
He sped up.
“Come for me,” he said, his eyes locked on her constricting throat, on her own wild pupils. “Come on me, that’s it. Christ, you are so beautiful.”
She couldn’t bear the slashing depth of his gaze. She twisted back, panting. His mouth was on the column of her throat, his teeth grazing the soft spot under her chin, and his voice, good God…
She found her own voice, though it was foreign to her ears as she begged, “Greg, please, please…” She stiffened in his arms, she reached and reached and he was whispering to her, praising her, begging her, demanding things darkly against her mouth. She felt the first warm bloom of her oncoming climax and she almost sobbed in relief. If he stopped now, she would kill him.
“I’m…I’m…” She couldn’t get the words out, but she dug her nails into his forearms and he took over for her, locking her against him. She burned upward, only able to make small noises of encouragement as Greg ground himself against her. She tightened her thighs against his, closed her eyes and held her breath.
“Hello? Who’s on set?” Footsteps approached and the overhead floodlights came on.
“Shit,” Greg whispered, freezing. “It’s Lyle.”
*
Another three weeks passed, and Greg was kicking himself for letting his libido get the best of him. He thought about Mack as he scanned the pages of the script they were filming today, nervous that Lyle had moved the love scene up in the schedule. He thought about how he and Mack hadn’t talked about what had happened on set, about the panicked scramble to right their clothing while Lyle got closer, about the last kiss they’d exchanged, which was heated and full of promises of encounters to come, about the fact that she’d been seconds away from climaxing in his lap.
How she could turn it off so easily was a mystery to him. Sure, he was able to smile for the camera and mime the lines while the cameras rolled, was able to laugh and joke with the rest of the cast, was even able to carry on conversations with Mack herself that had nothing to do with their encounter. But he was the actor, and she was…well, just as he’d suspected, Mackenzie liked to watch, but she was chickenshit when it came to living.
To be fair, they each ran like cowards after wrap at the end of the day now. He found himself constantly fighting the urge to drop by her apartment with an armload of takeout and a stack of old movies, or as an enticing plan B, just showing up and ignoring his better judgment to take her on the floor by her front door.
The funny thing was the thought of shuffling nervously outside her door like some sap on a first date was almost as appealing as the rabid floor-sex fantasy. He glanced over to where Mack was discussing angles with a camera operator.
He couldn’t stop looking at her. She must have felt him staring, because she looked over.
Then, her eyes curious, she walked over. Greg heaved in a deep breath and scrubbed at his tired eyes, frustrated.
“We need to talk.” He didn’t wait for her answer, just grabbed her hand and walked back behind a set wall, where they could have privacy. “I can’t do this,” he said.
“Is this nerves? You’ll do fine,” she reassured, squeezing his hand.
“Can’t we get a standin, Mack, or, or…”
“Greg,” she said, “it’s just a movie.”
“It’s not just the movie, Mack. It’s this. It’s us.”
“We’ve already talked about this.”
“No, we haven’t. I said I wanted you, you said we couldn’t, and then you nearly came all over my lap in what has to be one of the hottest sexual encounters of my life. And then radio silence once again. I’m right here, but you’re, you’re…you’re scared.”
“Of what?”
“Getting out from behind the camera.”
When she opened her mouth to respond, he leaned in and very gently covered her lips with his own. He hummed against her, nudging until she kissed him back. He could tell himself the kiss was for comfort, that it was to ease his nerves, but that would be complete and utter bullshit.
She flattened her hands against his chest, and as they kissed he lifted his hands to skim her jaw. They spent long minutes changing angles, jockeying for lead of the encounter. He forced himself to be soft and slow, to kiss her until he could barely think over the buzz in his head, until all thoughts of nervousness fled from his head, until he was so painfully hard that if he didn’t stop he would ignore the crowd of people just on the other side of the set and take her here against the wall.
He drew away from her and she dropped her hands from his chest and stepped back, looking dazed.
“What…what was that for?”
“For courage,” he said, and she smiled slowly.
“Well, thanks for being a coward.”
“Oh, not courage for me. For you. After I film this scene, I want you to come to my apartment, take off all of your clothes and get into my bed so I can spend all night doing mind-blowing things to your body.
“I know you like to watch, Mack, so we’ll get our start in this scene. Every kiss, every touch, every time it looks like my hands are between her legs, my tongue in her mouth, I will be thinking of you, picturing you. So watch, but tonight, it’s time you stop watching and start living.”
*
Mack’s head was reeling. Greg had just kissed her so tenderly, so gently that she was floored by the contrast, the erotic aggressiveness of his words. She stood with a group of extras, watching the scene set up, volcanic inside thinking about Greg’s last whispered confession.
She
had never had a man be so blatant with her. Now, instead of dragging him into a dressing room and relieving the unrequited ache of lust that was driving her insane, she had to watch him simulate what he wanted to do to her. She had to do it without passing out—there was a lightheadedness, a buzz that had crept into her head the second he’d made his declaration.
Mack moved behind the main rig, feeling already naked even though she was fully clothed. Three minutes from now she would be filming. She knew the lines, she knew the feelings, she knew the blocking and the timing and how many cameras there would be, at what angles and, hell, everything. She thought she knew what to expect.
The set was closed, just Lyle and the bare necessary crew. As Mack settled herself behind the camera, all she could see was Greg.
“One minute, Mack!” Lyle hollered, and she took a deep breath. She couldn’t think of what Greg had just said. She should think of the sweet, tender way he had kissed her, not the explicit, steam-burn heat of his offer.
“Action!”
Mack felt like she was about to throw up from nerves. She heard the doorbell of the set piece. Footsteps, and then, their leading lady, a willowy blonde named Jessica, opened the door to the hero’s house and Mack’s breath seized in her throat. The heroine walked into the darkened house, and Mack was so focused on the shadowy shape of Greg that she nearly forgot to change her angle.
His voice was deep, harsh. “What are you doing here?”
“We need to talk,” Jessica said, watching Greg as he went to the door and locked it. He turned, regarding her warily. God, he was stunning. He looked tired, and Mack wondered if he had slept last night.
“About what? I told you that we shouldn’t see each other anymore.”
Jess took a step toward him. “Why? Because you’re scared of what real life would be like between us? That it wouldn’t be all gallant cross-country trips and stolen kisses?”
“Scared,” he scoffed. “You know real life wouldn’t work between us.”
“Scared because you love me.”
He laughed, and Mack’s own chest tightened as tears made Jess’s eyes shine. God, the lighting was perfect. The other woman flung down the bag she’d been carrying, started undoing the buttons on her blouse.
“What are you doing?” Greg said, stepping toward her.
“Tell me you don’t want me.”
I don’t want you, Greg, Mack thought. I don’t think about you, I don’t fantasize about you.
“I don’t…I don’t want you,” he said, and those eyes were following Jess’s fingers as she undid each button. She yanked the shirt free of the hem of her skirt and tossed it behind her. She reached for the zipper at the small of her back.
“Tell me to leave.”
“I think you should…” he said as she dropped the skirt and stepped out of it.
“Tell me you don’t think about me like this every night.”
Damn it. Mack’s throat was dry, her pulse racing. Touch her, put your hands on her, so that I can feel it.
Jessica unhooked the front clasp of her bra, letting it loose, reaching up to catch the fabric of her bra and hold it against her, suddenly afraid, vulnerable.
“What the hell are you doing?” he said softly, and she locked eyes with him, lifting her chin.
“I love you,” Jess said. “I choose you and I want you to make love to me.”
She lowered her arms and shrugged, letting the bra fall free.
*
Greg had thought wanting Mack and having her avoid him was hell, but hell was most certainly this—Mack standing behind a camera about to watch him touch her through a surrogate.
“You don’t know what you’re asking for. You’re going to give up the life you had planned?”
“The life everyone else planned for me,” Jess said. He was supposed to go to her, touch her, put his hands and mouth on her and fake the motions of putting himself inside her, consummating a great and long-unrequited love. He needed Mack. He wanted it to be Mack. Pure hell.
“I’m warning you,” he said, stepping close, and Jessica looked so sweet and scared, she was actually trembling.
“I’m begging you,” she said, and he brought his hands to her naked waist. Her skin ran gooseflesh under his touch. Mack’s skin was beautiful; he’d spent many nights thinking about covering every inch of it with his mouth, his tongue. He felt himself start to harden.
Jess tilted her chin up to him, he dipped his head. There was a close-up camera so near them that if he reached out an arm he could shove it away, but everything fell aside as he spoke an inch from her mouth.
“You’ve said before that this is a bad idea.” The tone carried so little conviction that it sounded weak even to his ears. Just what Mack kept saying, that they were a bad idea.
“Just once,” Jess said, “and then I’ll go away, I promise, just like you want, I’ll go awa…”
He took her mouth, brought her against him, she near naked and he fully clothed. He bent her backward with the force of his kiss, wrapped an arm behind her to support her as he pressed in, relentless, drawing a whimper from her that had him growling in response. Watch me, Mack, watch what you’re resisting. See how good it can be.
“I warned you.” He scooped Jess up, took long strides to the bedroom set, real anger coursing through him, frustration and white-hot desire making him rough as he tumbled her onto the bed and followed her down. He wanted it to be a long, dark fountain of hair spilling over his hands, not the fine light silk of Jessica’s shoulder-length blond curls.
He was sure he would manage the lines—he had read them so many times they were second nature—but the uncertainty came in how he was going to keep his shit together and finish the scene without going caveman, yanking Mack out from behind her camera and dragging her off for some very real sex. Jessica reached for the buttons on his shirt. He went for his belt. Things were going to get very real very, very soon.
*
Mack was nearly panting. Jessica had Greg’s chest bare in a matter of seconds and she was lifting up on her elbows to bite at him, running her hands up his back, her mouth finding one of his nipples and nipping gently. His chest was smoothly muscled with only a smattering of chest hair, so there was little to impede the other woman’s mouth as she slid it from one nipple to the other, this time biting harder.
He yanked back on her hair. Jess licked her lips at him. Mack’s stomach was churning, her nipples tight and tingling, fingertips itching to explore the very skin being exposed to her, frame by frame.
Greg’s eyes darkened and he let go of Jess to strip off his jeans and underwear. Mack thought of how he’d not been wearing any that day they’d nearly gotten caught on set. His back was to the cameras, but Mack could see him. In her mind, she could see all of him and he was hard and delirious with want. For her.
“C’mere,” Jess purred.
Greg bore her back and she welcomed him. Jess sought his mouth and kissed him with everything she had. They wrestled and struggled and caressed and kissed for such a span that Mack thought she would expire from the sheer rush of knowing that in Greg’s head, it was her beneath him, her throat under his lips, her leg sliding over the sheets.
“Please,” Jess said, rolling so that Greg was above her. “Please.”
Mack saw his jaw flex with restraint as he stroked a hand down Jess’s cheek and the column of her throat, saw him working for a response. They were burrowed in a mass of sheets and Greg snaked his hand over Jess’s side, down her hip to twine their fingers.
“You want me inside of you? Put me there,” he said, and Mack closed her eyes at the words. If it were her, if Mack was beneath him at this very moment, she would take his hand and slide it down her own belly. He would press his mouth to her eyelids. She would dip his fingers into the wetness between her legs.
Cradled between her thighs, Greg would flex his hips, a breath hissing out from between his clenched teeth. She would guide him for a few seconds more, showing him how to touch
her, what she wanted, before disentangling her own hand from his. He would stroke her, bold, mimicking the motion with his hips.
Mack’s eyes flew open. The soft moan that burst from her was as real as the wetness he was creating between her legs. He lowered his forehead to the pillow beside Jess’s head and spoke, his words for Mack, cutting straight through the core of her.
“Mine,” he breathed. Jess dug her fingernails into his back and Greg kept talking to her, so many words in such endless enticing strings that Mack could have lived on the heat of them forever.
“You’re doing so good, gorgeous, you feel so good.”
And still, he kept on, and Jess jerked against him and he hauled her leg up beside his hip.
Jess was making noises and Greg moved to kiss her, upping the pace of his simulated thrusts. Mack’s body was on fire. She wanted him inside her.
Greg was back at Jess’s ear, coaxing. “Almost there, sweetheart, just relax, almost there.”
And then Jess was there, and damned if the woman couldn’t fake it like a pro. She bucked under Greg, and he covered her mouth with his own as she moaned in short, staccato bursts. The kiss muffled her cries, and he met her moans with low ones of his own.
They both stilled, panting, and Greg drew back to press his forehead to Jessica’s.
“You’re right,” he said simply, “I’m in love with you. I can’t let you go.”
Mack leaned back in her chair, winded.
“Cut! Print it! Amazing!” Lyle’s voice came, ever the slap of reality in their little fantasy world. “That’s a wrap, folks! Great job.”
The set was thunderously quiet. Greg lifted himself off of Jess, helped her up. Mack watched as he made sure that the sheet was around the young actress, watched him turn his back as a cast assistant, a woman with eyes flared so wide that they nearly eclipsed her face, stepped quietly to the bedside and held out a robe for Jess.
Jess left the set, giggling past Mack on her way to her dressing room, and Mack heard her comment saucily to the casting assistant.
“Damn. If I wasn’t into women, I would seriously be jumping his bones right now.”
Love Letters Volume 5: Exposed Page 4