I shake my head rapidly, wide eyes probably straight out of an anime show. “I’m good,” I lie.
He chuckles again, the sound almost gravelly, and way too sexy for his own good. He makes his way over to me, crouching down next to my legs. The nearness of him, how close his face is to the area that craves him, misses him even after not even twelve hours apart (we kept each other up pretty late last night, and as a result, slept in too late to fit a round in this morning) is the cruelest form of a tease.
I watch him a little too eagerly, and when he opens the door of the little beverage fridge, reaches in, pulls out a can then hands me a flavored Pellegrino, I blow out an exasperated breath. I take it from him, pop the top and gulp down a sip (what flavor, you’re wondering? I couldn’t tell you. Could be the black raspberry one or could be a new roadkill flavor—my tongue registersnothingright now.). All I can do is just clutch onto the can with one hand for dear life, on edge in every sense from the man crouched down in front of me.
That smirk is back as Aaron watches me, amused, knowing full well what he’s doing to me. When he stands back up, he leaves no space between our bodies, pressing himself against my lower body, pushing my legs and hips farther into the mini fridge, and crowding my upper body back against the living room wall behind it. He trails one hand softly down my side, causing me to jump at the sudden feel of him, before chills break out from the point of contact, the sensation of his fingertips running down my skin hitting my nerves even through the thin material of my shirt. He leans even closer, pressing his nose to the side of my head until his lips are against the shell of my ear, his breath hot, tickling me in a way that isn’t at all unpleasant.
“You sure you don’t need anything, baby?” I don’t miss the emphasis he puts on that offer, the suggestive tone that speaks for itself. I’d love to take him up on it, if I’m being honest, but even though I’m no longer his assistant, I don’t feel right about making him late for his shot. Pretty sure he’s due on set in about ten minutes. And bypretty sure, I’m just being humble. He is. If he gave me free reign to use his body how I see fit right now, I’d take a lot more than the time he’s got.
Aaron must think otherwise, because he uses his free hand to take my empty one and pulls it to his body, flat against the bare skin of his chest, fingers pressed to that intricate design there. He holds it there, his ever-present warmth penetrating my palm, while he trails that other hand of his farther and farther down my body. It travels past where I wish it were and down my thigh before finding the hem of my skirt, and begins to work its way back up my body, beneath the loose fabric there. My body reacts instantly, the slow burn that’s been alight in my core since he started changing suddenly turning into a sharp pulling, a desperate tug, a need to be filled, and wetness floods my panties.
He leans back to look me in the eye, cupping my jaw, my head, gingerly with the hand thatisn’tclimbing up my skirt, and brushes my cheek with his thumb. Thatotherhand I can’t help but focus on races past the sensitive skin of my upper thigh and traces against the most delicate part of me, up the center of my underwear, where I know he can feel the ample evidence of my desire.
“’Cause it feels to me like you need something…” he trails off. The endless depths of his blue eyes flick between my own and then down to my mouth, the way my teeth are working my lower lip as I try not to rock my hips against his hand, not to start something we can’t finish, not to moan or whimper and give away just how badly I do need him, but he knows. He always knows what I need.
His fingers slip inside the seam of my underwear, teasing my entrance, and he slams his eyes shut when he feels exactly how wet I am for him. When he opens them again, they aren’t stormy anymore, but glimmer back at me, pools of deepest blue, like one of the cenotes we visited on his day off that time he was filming a project in Mexico. Except there’s nothing calming about this gaze from him. It’s positively smoldering, ramping up my need even further when I see my own desire reflected in his stare.
His voice comes out raspier than usual. “Fuck, baby. You always this wet for me? Did this little thing go around this needy, unanswered, unfulfilled for all those years when I was missing what was right in front of me?” He slicks a finger through my center, spreading that wetness all around, up to my clit, where that finger starts to rub me delicately, teasingly, perfectly.
I moan appreciatively, until he stops his motion and I’m forced to open my eyes. That’s when it hits me—the way he’s staring at me, waiting, he wants me to answer him. “Um,” I start shyly. “I didn’t want to…cross that line. It was mostly emotional, what I felt for you.” He slips a thick finger inside me, far from gently, and my head falls back.
“Was it now?” he asks, pressing that digit inside me to hit the spot that makes my knees give out and pleasure flood my insides.
“Mmm,” is all I can say, my eyelids fluttering at what he’s doing to me.
“And now?” he asks, continuing to tease me, torture me, with one finger inside me, as his thumb starts circling my clit. “Is it still just emotional?”
“Now,” I say, looking him dead in the eyes. “Now I know what an ass you can be,” I quip. His tongue wipes away what would’ve been a smile from his lips as he keeps tormenting me for answers. I put the forgotten can down behind me somewhere and place both of my hands on his shoulders, steadying myself,so I can whisper into his ear. “But now I also know how good you feel inside me, and it’ssohard not to remember that every time I see you, Stone.”
He groans at my confession and presses his hips into me, letting me feel his appreciation for how much he likes being inside me, too. He adds another finger to what he’s doing to me, and he uses more pressure to work me up, winding me tighter and tighter as he rubs, massages, and fucking annihilates me from the inside out.
“I don’t want you to try not to remember, Gem.” He grits the words out through his teeth. “I don’t want you to go a day without feeling meeverywhere. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I want to be the best thing that’s ever happened to you. But you get this wet for me?” He pulls his hand back and I feel so empty all of a sudden—the feeling is awful, wrong. I need his fullness again.
Aaron brings his hand up to the space between us, his first two fingers held up to show me what he’s talking about. His fingers are absolutely soaked, glistening even in the dim fluorescent light of his trailer. The feeling of mortification I expect doesn’t hit me. I’m not embarrassed at how turned on I get with him, at how quickly my body responds to him, how much Ineedhim. The heat in his eyes as he takes in the sight is enough to let me know how much he appreciates that particular visual, but when he groans, it’s nearly enough to send me hurtling over the edge even without his touch.
“You get wet like this, you fucking find me, Gem. No matter what else is going on. I’ll make it better.” He doesn’t give me a chance to respond, just brings his mouth to mine, sucking my upper lip into his mouth sensually, kissing me slow, deep, and with so much passion I feel like I’m floating. Or maybe that’s just the start of my orgasm—I can feel it within reach, and so can he. His hand finds my core again, his fingers sliding back inwith ease and he twists his wrist, making the most out of that spot that I never knew I loved until him. He starts to apply more pressure to my clit, steadily circling and circling it until I feel the tension tighten, then start to bubble around the edges of my nerve endings, ready to pop.
I pull back from our kiss to find him watching me intently, so fucking attuned to me, my needs, like always. I keep my eyes on his, staring into every level of him as he pushes me over the edge, and the dam bursts, sending me into a new stratosphere of existence. Waves of pleasure pulse through me, starting in my core and expanding out, rocking my very foundation as I grapple to stay connected to the physical world, holding onto him for all I’m worth as I fall through the planes of bliss, his eyes locked on mine as I do.
I’m always watching him when we’re together. After so many years of seeing him unintentionally when I came, I have yet to miss a chance to watch him on purpose when he makes me see sounds and hear the rainbow. This time is no different.
Heavy breaths wrack my chest, my exhales puffing onto his mouth as his eyesflamewith desire at seeing what he’s done to me. He told me our first night together that he’s never had a partner who watches him while they come. Honestly, I’ve never done it with anyone else before now, but I didn’t think him hearing about how I used to come with Spencer was a good topic of conversation and I kept that tidbit to myself.
Aaron told me it drives himcrazythat I do it, that my eyes stay open and on him, that I’m in the moment, every time. After learning it was always him I was seeing when I found release, he promised to always make sure I can see his eyes when I finish, and he hasn’t let me down on that yet. Even if we try a new position (he’s pretty partial to doggie, and while I enjoy it, I prefer anything that brings us face to face), he always brings me back around before we finish. I think I’m not the only one whocan’t get enough of whatever this magic is between us when we get physical.
I thought we had it going on, the perfect relationship, a kind of symbiosis that could last the ages when we were best friends, coworkers, and nothing more. No daydream could have prepared me for the kind of chemistry we have now, the passion that’s been unlocked between us.
It takes a minute or two of heavy breathing, prolonged eye contact, and the hand of his that isn’t still inside of me gently tracing my face, my hair, my neck, my shoulder, for me to come down. And then there’s a knocking on the trailer door.
“I’m changing!” Aaron yells, his tone ofdon’t fucking come in hereunmistakable to whomever is outside.
“You’re needed in five!” A familiar female voice comes back, and we can hear the footsteps retreating, headed down the metal stairs and away, leaving us alone again.
He drops his forehead to my shoulder and sighs, withdrawing his fingers from my heat, and eventually stepping back and away from me.
“You’re fucking addicting, you know that?” He tells me, an almost teasing tone to his voice.
“You’re one to talk.” I can’t help the smile that blooms on my face, my cheeks still flushed from my orgasm, my eyes probably all fucking gooey and stupid with how much I love this man.
