For the first time in my life I don’t want to hear my director call it a wrap for the day.

Normally I’m just going through the motions at this point, my mind more focused on the ESPN and cold beer awaiting me than on turning in an Oscar-worthy performance. Now, though, as we’re winding down on those last shots that Polly needed, I’m actually considering flubbing my lines to eat up more time.

Although it could happen even without me doing it on purpose, considering the kind of shape I’m in.

It took me fifteen minutes to get through this one scene – that we already shot once earlier today – because my mind was so all over the place. And my body. I’m pretty sure I walked onto the set fully hard.

I can’t stop thinking about what happened in Jenna’s trailer. About what we did. About what I did. Can’t stop thinking about her pussy pulsing around my fingers and her beautiful face when she came--she’s as gorgeous as I remembered when she’s lost in orgasm, and the ache in my balls has me wanting to see that look again real soon.

But the ache in my stomach that says I really screwed things up is much worse than any pain below the waist.

We were just starting to talk to each other again. Starting to work things out. Somehow I have a feeling this is not what Jenna meant when she said she wanted to keep things professional.

And, fuck! What if we’d been caught?

That’s just what Jenna needs—a story about us fooling around to get spread around by one underpaid crew member and suddenly TMI is blasting too much information once again.

It was a mistake. I know it was. I need to apologize to Jenna. Only, without a single minute to process what happened back there, I don’t know what to say.

We run through our shots, my mind spinning the whole time.

Jenna’s barely looked at me except when she’s had to for the scene. I assume she’s angry, and she has every right to be. It must seem like I came to her trailer under false pretenses. And I didn’t. I didn’t plan that I would end up all but fucking her.

That has to be part of my apology. I have to make sure I explain that I really did go to her trailer to set things right between us. The rest just…happened.

And unless I’m reading things totally wrong, she wanted it, too. She moved toward me. She let me touch her.

God she felt good.

“Cut!” Polly yells. “That’s it for today. You can get back to whatever you were doing before I rudely interrupted you.”

Shit. Did Polly just look our way? Did someone actually see us? Or, more likely, hear us?

Am I just being paranoid?

I look over at Jenna, wondering if she picked up on the same comment from Polly. Somehow she’s already over with her wardrobe person getting out of costume. She looks rattled and uncomfortable. My stomach sinks. She regrets what we did, she’ll never speak to me as anyone but Grace again. I can practically see it all.

Then it hits me exactly why she’s probably so upset: Walter. Jenna has a fucking boyfriend.

Now I have regrets. Big regrets.

Shit.

My need to apologize gets even more urgent, in the light of this. If I were her, I’d be feeling overwhelmed and angry too. If I were him, I’d kill me. The irony doesn’t escape me, by the way, that the most famous victim of infidelity since Jennifer Aniston just cheated. With me.

I need to clear the air. This time nowhere near a confined space with a couch.

I snag Jenna before she’s anywhere near her trailer. This time, we’re in a well-lit section of the lot where lots of people are passing by. No one is close enough to listen to our conversation. It’s perfect, except for my nerves. I’m damn near shaking as I touch her arm to ask if we can talk. It doesn’t help that she jumps almost a mile high the minute my arm grazes her skin.

“Hey, I want to apologize, for real this time. That was totally unprofessional, and I’m really sorry,” I say, quietly. “That wasn’t my intention when I came to your trailer. I honestly just wanted to clear the air.”

Jenna nods. She’s agreeing, but she doesn’t seem pissed. She actually looks relieved.

“Good. I was hoping you’d feel that way. That can never happen again. It’s too risky.” I notice her nervously fidget with her fingers.

“Yes. Exactly. Completely agreed. Never again.”

“Okay. Cool. Well… Great.” Now Jenna shifts on her feet and touches her hair.

“So are you going to tell your boyfriend about it?”

“What boyfriend? I don’t have a boyfriend.”

“Oh,” I say, confused. “I guess I got that mixed up.”  

“Yeah, you did. I definitely don’t have a boyfriend.”

She sneaks a quick look up and directly at me before jutting her eyes down and away. I used to call it her French eyes. The move made me feel like I was in some black and white French romance flick…or vintage French porn. When we first met that look could get me hard in a hot second.

Turns out, it still can.

We’re quiet for a moment. I don’t know what she’s thinking, but I’m turning this new information over in my head. Maybe he was just a friend with benefits. Or an uncle I don’t remember.

So where does that leave me?

I look at her and she’s looking at me, and this time we both cut our eyes away.

“Even though I’m sorry,” I venture, “I don’t regret it.” More silence, but only for a moment.

“It was pretty hot,” she agrees, and even without glancing over, I can hear the smile in her voice.

“We’re shooting Seven next,” she says conversationally. Seven is the first time that Bobby and Grace go home together. Despite a no-nudity clause in Jenna’s contract, the scene looks to be pretty steamy. There will be tons of shots of our bare skin, sliding against each other, shots of neck kissing and hair pulling and all the other things I’ve been fantasizing about doing to her off-camera.

“So, do you maybe want to get together tonight to rehearse it before we shoot Monday?” I ask.

I didn’t really mean to say that out loud. I feel like some weird demon took control of my mouth. The words just came flying out like some kind of physical reaction. And now I can’t take them back.

But then Jenna says, “Yes, definitely,” without a single bit of hesitation.

Play it cool, Tanner. Roll with it.   

“Okay good. Yeah. Cool. My room?” Not sure that was “cool” but it was certainly bold. She’s smiling, and either I’m crazy or it’s a flirty grin.

“I don’t know. Do you have a suite?”

Yep, definitely flirty. Game on, Jenna Stahl. “I do. Room 1019. King suite. Come see if it’s up to your lead actress standards.” I wink at her, and am gratified to see her blush. I can’t wait to see the flush on her cheeks when I make her come again, this time with my mouth.

Wait. That’s not what I’m supposed to be thinking about. Are we still talking about rehearsing?

“Deal. Your room. Nine o’clock?” She pivots to leave, hardly waiting for my answer. Like it would be anything other than acquiescence.

And it is. “Yeah. Perfect. See you then.”

I watch her ass as she walks away, this time without a measure of guilt.

And with that I can’t decide if this late night rehearsal is the best or worst idea I’ve ever had.

By ten after nine, when Jenna is nowhere to be found, I’ve decided it’s definitely the worst. I pick up the remote and head for the minibar, ready to drown my feelings in a combination of tequila and basketball.

Then there’s a knock on the door.

“Hi, I’m sorry I’m late,” Jenna says breezily as she walks in, oblivious to my gaping.

At least, that’s what I think she said. I can’t focus on anything but the thin white t-shirt she’s wearing over a black lace bra. It shows off every curve of her perfect breasts. I force myself to think of something cold and boring – miserable icy showers at Aunt Pat’s beach house! – and I’m saved, for now.

“No worries,” I say, recovering quickly. “Something to drink?”

“No thanks,” Jenna says. Then she takes the script out of her bag and starts leafing through the pages. “Do you wanna get your script?”

“Oh. Yeah. Sure. Of course.” I escape into my bedroom to grab it, and mentally slap myself across the face. She’s here to work, idiot.

“I think we should use your kitchen counter as the bar,” Jenna calls from the other room.

“Fine,” I say as I walk back in, script in hand.

“It’s a little bright in here. Mind if I dim the lights?”

I want to say No, Jenna, if you dim the lights then this is going to feel too much like a real bar, and in a real bar I wouldn’t make it through a single line. I’d just throw you up on the counter and fuck your brains out.

But instead I nod a yes. I feel like I’m hanging on by a thread, and desperately hoping she doesn’t notice.

“K, you lean on the counter opposite me,” Jenna directs. “Let’s take it from the top of page twenty-five.”

I move in like she suggested, then scan the page. The dialogue seems harmless enough. Grace and Bobby are chatting after they’ve met up at Happy Hour after a long day of work. It’s friendly and simple.

“You start,” I say.

“Right...”

There is a little tone of hesitation in Jenna’s response – like she isn’t sure about something. But what? I look up from my script and find her staring at me. Why? Is she nervous or uncomfortable? Does she not know how to approach this scene? Or is she doing something to get into character?

Whatever it is, she needs to stop because it’s making me crazy. With her leaning, I can’t help but stare directly at that black bra peeking through her shirt, and the big, round breasts pressing up against the fabric. Fuck. I can see the outline of her nipples, hard in the air-conditioning, and my cock jumps in response.

Finally, Jenna starts. “How was your day, love?”

I have to look down to read my line, thank god. “Eh. Fine. I missed you.”

She takes a step toward me. “AAww, what did you miss about me?”

I look down for my next line, then I notice that’s not what she was supposed to say. Grace is supposed say, “That’s sweet.”

My throat suddenly feels tight and the air, electric.

“Where do I start?” I ask, thinking about how much I’ve missed the smell of her on my pillows and seeing her favorite coffee mug in my sink every morning and staying up late to watch bad television while cheating on our diets with a bag of microwave popcorn.

I decide to keep the discussion on a physical level. That’s what she wants to hear.

I close the space between us at the counter and move my arm back behind her.  Jenna looks down at my arm then her fingers reach over and touch the muscles around my biceps. She curls her lips, giving me an almost angry glare.

“Start somewhere good. You’ve got a lot of making up to do.”

The edge in her voice makes my dick throb.

“I missed your perfect ass,” I say.

“Not good enough,” Jenna replies.

“I missed the sound of you moaning for more, like when I fingered you inside your trailer.”

“Like this?” Jenna asks, and then leans over and moans in my ear, shooting a pulse up and down my entire body. “Do you want more of that?”

I nod then grab her hand and place it on my dick so she can feel how hard she has me.

“Well then, there are some things I want too.”

There is an intensity in Jenna’s eyes that I’ve never seen before. They’re narrow and pointed in a sexy, devilish way. It makes me want to pick her up, run her over to the giant king bed and throw her down. Instead, she makes the first move. She closes her fingers around my shirt and pulls me in closer.

“Fuck me, Tanner,” she says. “Show me how much you’ve missed me.”  

I take my hands and cradle her face then kiss her deeply. All those hours of pent up energy I’ve been holding find their outlet in her as she tangles her tongue with mine.

I grab her around the waist and lift her up onto the counter. The thin fabric of her shorts gives easily, as I rip it right down the seam. She squeals in surprise, and I grin. I toss the now-useless scrap on the floor and pull her panties down her thighs, leaving her to kick them off as I dive forward, intent on my goal. She’s wet already, and I’m eager to taste her glistening liquid, to lick it clean off her slit. But first I run my tongue up and down her thighs, gently.

“Hurry,” she urges, and I comply.

When my tongue delves in and up her smooth inner lips, I’m not sure which one of us moans louder. She still tastes like strawberries. She still tastes like heaven.

Aware of her urgency, I don’t savor this moment the way I want to, instead, I use my tongue to bring her to the edge of orgasm as quickly as I can, until she’s begging me for release, for just one more lick to send her flying.

And then I don’t.

The earth is going to shatter when I let her come, which means putting it off once or twice first. I stand up and move to rip the t-shirt off Jenna’s body, but she’s one step ahead of me.

“God, Jenna,” I say as I take in the perfect shape of her round breasts. They’re so full, so luscious. I want them in my hands, now. I slide both my hands up her stomach and cup them as I kiss her again, this time sharing her taste with her.

“I need you,” she says, pulling back from my mouth, and then she jumps into my arms, straddling my body with her strong legs, her warm pussy pressing against my dick. I’m so hard that just the thought of what’s about to happen has me on the edge, and she knows it, squirming against me and moaning in my ear.

I walk us both over to the bed and lower her down on the mattress. I’m ready for another taste of her, but she stops me by grabbing my face. Then she flips us over so that I’m pinned down between her legs at my middle and arms at my chest.

“My turn,” she says. Then she unbuttons my shirt and pants, peeling them both off in a matter of seconds. I reach out to feel the searing heat of her skin against my fingers, but she’s already moving out of my reach.

I groan in frustration, but when I feel her hand wrap around my shaft, I’m groaning for an entirely different reason.

“Hard and fast,” she says, bending down to swirl her tongue around my crown.  

“But—” I start to protest, wanting to take my time, wanting to finish teasing her.

And then the next thing I know she has my cock deep inside her mouth. I feel my whole body throb as I let out a long growl.

Holy shit.

Jenna has not lost any skills in the blowjob department. She was always a master and right now her tongue is doing things that are going to make me explode. And when she takes me inside her throat? I swear I see stars.

Suddenly, though, she stops.

I’m still panting from the feeling of her lips around my dick, my vision still blurry from the near orgasm. “What happened?” I ask.

“I can’t wait any longer,” she says. And then she crawls up and over me until she’s sitting so she can guide my cock inside her body. She’s tight and hot as I slide in. We both hiss at the moment I’m completely inside, filling and stretching her. Talk about seeing stars. I’m in fucking ecstasy. I’m fucking home.

She sits there for a moment, still, adjusting. Then she finally starts moving, and she lets everything loose. Weeks—no years—of tension seemed to be released as she writhes and moans and screams.

I’m hypnotized by her. It feels so good to be inside her, to have her riding my dick, and yet I’m truly mesmerized with watching her. It’s the best part of what’s happening now. Seeing her like this, so full of passion and maybe even rage, takes me to a place that I haven’t been in, well, maybe ever.

She’s so beautiful on top of me, head thrown back as she rides me to the place she wants to be. So angry when I torture her, holding her hands away so she can’t rub her clit. But when, at last, I take mercy and use my thumb to draw small, tight circles on that bundle of nerves until she seizes up around me and the vice grip of her pussy makes me come too, hard and furiously, that’s when it hits me.

I’m still in love with Jenna Stahl.