One More Time(22)

He leaves one hand to work every centimeter of my clit then takes the other and dances it up and down the inside of my thighs until I’m crying out. His free hand covers my mouth, but that doesn’t help. It isn’t until he stills that I quiet, although my hips are still rocking greedily, trying to get what I want from his fingers.

“Sshh,” he says, “Someone might still be around.”

“I don’t care,” I moan, and, in the moment, I swear I don’t. Let everyone hear how glorious this is. Tanner grins as he presses his fingers back inside me, bending them and twisting them, showing off more moves that get my body pulsing and my pussy soaking wet.

I’m going to come. I’m so close. “Fuck, Tanner, yes…”

“Yes,” he growls, and that’s all it takes to send me flying over the edge into ecstasy.

...just as someone knocks on the trailer door.

Tanner’s hand goes back over my mouth, and I bite down on my cheek to contain my moan as the last few aftershocks rack my body. He stares at me, helping me come down, our bodies rocking together as I slowly stop convulsing.

“Hello? Jenna?” a voice calls from outside. It’s one of the production assistants. “If you’re there, Polly was hoping to re-shoot a few lines before we wrap for the day,” she says. “Can you be on set in five? And do you have any idea where Tanner is?”

But the more important question at the moment is, what the hell just happened?





Tanner





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.”