At my sad little joke, she smiles, and her face loses some of its tension.
‘You’re not wrong.’
Dominic’s been a busy boy; he’s gotten Georgiana’spetticoat off (dropping to his knees and kissing her stomach while he slid it over her ass and let it slither to the ground), so Elle’s gonna be bare-assed on the bed in just her half-corset and stockings from this point on. I’m sure she has her Shibue on (the female version of a Hibue. Cute, huh?), but right now everything’s covered up in a big fluffy robe she’s clinging to like it’s a security blanket.
Don’t worry, I’m joining her in bare-assed heaven. Later I’ll get dressed again so they can shoot Dominic doing his Magic Mike performance just for Georgiana, tugging his shirt off over his head and unbuttoning his pants, because Alyssa wants a wide shot of me from the back later, butt-naked, and also close-ups of my abs.
But right now, we’re doing medium shots, which will involve the back of my body and Elle under me.
I pace and avoid watching as they get Elle on the bed, take her robe off, and mess around with the lighting. Once they’re happy with it, Dan calls me over. It’s a closed set, but there’s still Abigail, Alyssa, Kate, Dan, cameras, sound and the assistant script supervisor for continuity purposes. Cosy.
I’m up next, and I disrobe and carefully get up on the bed. It’s been specially built, so it’s pretty sturdy. None of us wants to be the one to break a priceless antique with going too hard on the fake fucking. The set is warm, but I couldn’t be more conscious that I’m butt-naked.
Elle and I are studiously avoiding looking at each other below the neck, which unfortunately means our eyes are trained on each other’s faces. An accidental downward glance as I was getting on the bed tells me her tits are practically falling out of her corset, but she’s pretty fucking naked from the waist down. Last time we were in this position was in my bed in St. Michaels and we were both making a lot more noise.Don’t think like that. Don’t think like that.
It helps that everyone’s fussing around us. One of themakeup artists applies some shimmery body powder to my shoulders, back and butt with a huge, fluffy brush, which makes Elle snicker and breaks the tension a little. And Kate’s there, providing encouragement and reassurance and reminders in a low voice.
When we’re in position (which is full-on missionary, this being a Regency-era wedding night with a bride who’s new to this shit), Kate steps a little closer and lowers her voice even more.
‘Remember we agreed yesterday that you two would hold eye contact for a minute or two, to establish that necessary level of trust? Let’s take a moment to do that now. I’ll let you know when a minute is up, but feel free to hold it for longer, if you like.’
And so I brace on my forearms to avoid collapsing on Elle, and I gaze down at the love of my life, who’s pretty much naked beneath me with her knees bent either side of my hips and a group of people around us. And she looks up at me, and we take a minute. I drink her in. I marvel at the clear whites of her eyes, at the specks of turquoise and silver in her irises, at the unknowable messages they’re transmitting to her incredible brain as she soaks me up too.
This woman is a miracle; she’s a mystery, and having this moment with her, where everyone else fades away, is such a head-fuck. I can’t help but be drawn in, and I know I’ll give a better performance because of it, but it’s a false intimacy. A cruel blow masquerading as a gift.
‘One minute done,’ Kate whispers, and Elle blinks and turns away from me, exhaling and breaking the spell. Okay then.
‘Well done,’ Kate tells us, before stepping back so Abigail can give us one last briefing before the cameras roll.
And then we’re rolling, and while the camera’s trained on Elle, I deliver my lines to her. I thrust against her, and her legswrap around my ass, and her hand comes up to grip my back, and I don’t break eye contact for a second as I tell her I’m sorry it hurts, and she bites down on her lip, and her tits heave, and I increase my pace, and I swear there are tears in her eyes, but desire too, and she arches her back and grinds herself hard against me, and it happens, as if in slow motion.
‘You’re utterly perfect, you know.’
I can just about grit out my line as the ache builds in my balls, and streaks down my thighs, and my dick begins to strain unmistakably against my fucking man-thong, and holy fuck. I’m getting hard, and my skin slicks with sweat as the realisation kicks in that this is all going horribly, terribly wrong. And Elle feels it too; she must, because her eyes widen with a question even as she continues to go through the motions we’ve choreographed.
And I can’t. I can’t.
I pull back in a panic and jump off the bed, bent over to hide my arousal.
‘I need a minute.’ My voice is strangled.
Kate looks at Abigail.
‘Take a break,’ Abigail orders. ‘Take thirty.’
I grab my robe. And I fucking run.
CHAPTER 30
Elle
Itake a huge gulp of water as I lean against the breakfast bar in my trailer. Then another. But they don’t make me feel better. They don’t cool me down the way I need, because I’m on fire, and water won’t do the trick.
It was the eye contact exercise that was my undoing.
Lying there with Josh like we used to.
Staring into his eyes unashamedly.
