“You know, I have two pop tarts left in my trailer if you’re feeling hungry afterwards.” His tone is sultry and the heat coming off his body is delicious. I want to combine it with mine until we create the kind of fire that we’re able to move through together.
“Starving,” I say, and he ducks away from me, running ahead. We go back and forth, passing each other, until we’re back at the studio. He pulls out his AirPod, gasping for air, and leans forward on his knees. Meanwhile I’ve barely broken a sweat. It usually takes me a while to sweat, but I’m willing to test the waters with him on what it’ll take for me to be dripping and soaking my clothes like he nearly is.
“You know, on second thought . . .” He pauses, his eyes looking like a war is taking place inside them. “I really shouldn’t have that pop tart or I’ll be sluggish by the time lunch time rolls around.”
“Okay. Still want the company, though?” I step closer to him and he straightens his stance, the muscles in his throat tightening.
“No,” he says tightly. “I’m sure you want to shower and relax before work, and I probably should do all that too. I don’t make the best company smelling and looking the way I do.”
“I don’t know, I think you look and smell great,” I say playfully.
He shoves his hands in his hoodie, looking everywhere but at me. “I should uh . . . I should get back. Thanks for running with me today.”
“Sure,” I say coolly. “I’m always up for a good workout. All times of the day. Not only in the morning.”
His forehead shifts, his eyes lifting with it, and he opens his mouth only to close it again. Whipping his head back, he wipes his forehead with his sleeve. “I think . . . I think I hear someone calling my name. I’ll see you later.”
No one’s calling him and we both know it, but I play along anyway. “Go ahead. I’d hate for you to keep them waiting.”
He doesn’t move for a long time, his feet hesitant to go in the opposite direction of me. He doesn’t want to leave me yet, and I don’t want him to either, but he needs time to work out his thoughts and accept what he’s feeling. I’d rather he be sure when he’s with me—when he’s writhing underneath me with my cock buried inside him. He’ll get there. I’ve waited too long to give up now.
Eight
Sterling
What the hell was I thinking inviting him back to my trailer, and for pop tarts? Could I not have thought of a better line than that? To make matters worse, he said yes. Did he really think I meant food, or did he have the same dirty thoughts as me? I was so close to knowing my answer that I got cold feet, backing out at the last minute.
I thought the curiosity would have at least lessened after a good jerk-off session and a full night’s rest. I couldn’t have been more wrong. Then there was all the innuendo and suggestiveness in his tone. Maybe I was hearing things.
Maybe I was hearing what I wanted to hear. Fuck, why didn’t I message Melanie? She might have helped sate this hunger in me. It’s ravenous and only grows. He smelled better today—allsweaty and all man. It’s a good thing he didn’t come back with me. I wouldn’t have been able to hold back. I was struggling as it was while we were outside with so many cars driving by.
Sitting in my vanity chair, I run a comb through my hair, styling it in a way I normally never would. It’s almost time for me to be someone else. Five movies later and a bundle of nerves still turns in my stomach fifteen minutes before going on. There’s only one way to calm them. It’s the reason I need to spare some extra time between makeup and filming.
After looking back to make sure my dressing room door is locked, I unzip the front of my black trousers and pull my cock free from my underwear. The first few strokes I give myself while closing my eyes and hearing Hayden’s heavy panting from earlier already leave me dizzy. Warmth swirls in my lower stomach, and I bite back a moan when I increase my hand movements.
I buck my hips. I’m so close. Sliding a hand up my shirt, I twist one of my nipples, my body jerking as I come to the memory of Hayden’s captivating eyes. I roll my body against the chair, laughing and smiling at myself in the mirror as I cover the vanity in my release. I made more of a mess this time than I usually do, always so careful and not wanting to risk the chance of anyone finding out what I do between sets. Not wanting anyone to know my dirty secrets.
I think about what it would be like to have him walk in on me doing this and what I’d do if he was standing behind me, watching me in the mirror the way I was watching myself.
I’d let him. I’d show him exactly what I was doing, and maybe even a little more of what no one else knows about me. He makes me want to let him see too much of who I am, and I think that’s what scares me the most. What if I reveal what I don’t even know about myself, or keep trying so hard to pretend I don’t?
A knock shakes my door. “Sterling? There’s a package here that’s arrived for you. Want me to leave it outside the door?”
“That’ll be fine, thank you.” I don’t say the name in case I guess the wrong assistant. I’m assigned a new one at every movie, and after a while people’s voices start to blend together at these things.
Not his, though. No, I could pick him out of a noisy crowd. It’s played enough times in my head over the last few days.
“It’s right here whenever you’re ready for it,” the woman on the other side of the door says, dragging me from my thoughts again.
I get cleaned up and wipe down everything around me. It didn’t look like I got anything on the chair, but I wipe it down in case. I’m so much lighter on my feet now, practically gliding across the floor to open the door and grab the small square box.
I take it back into the dressing room with me, not bothering to lock the door again, and sit down with the gift in my lap. It doesn’t say who sent it. There’s no address on it at all. Someone dropped it off personally. Hair stands on the back of my neck. It could be anything and from anyone.
I’ve gotten everything from flowers to lingerie to jewelry with hand-written proposals. I dig through the pink tissue paper, sitting up taller as something black pokes out from under the many layers. I lift the item from the box, my heart tripping over itself.
My throat squeezes tight and I forget how to breathe for what feels like minutes. I drop the knife back into the box, and I’m about to dump it in the trash when I spot a note taped to the blade.
I was thinking this was made to be in your hands when I first bought it for you. Then I saw you holding it and knew it was. My movie star is far more deserving of the real thing. Don’t let them ever make you think otherwise. Don’t let them take itaway from you again. You’ll know exactly what to do with it when you’re ready to, and you’ll look so beautiful using it for a movie where you’re the only star.