Acting Brave (Fenbrook Academy #3) (31 page)

I swallowed. I could feel his cock iron-hard and huge, right on the other side of the sticking plaster. My mind was in a hot whirl, almost drunk on arousal. I wanted to rip the plaster away and welcome him in. I had to stop myself from wrapping my legs around him.

“And...” said Dixon. He didn’t actually say
penetrate her,
but that’s what he meant. They needed that lunge of his hips. The camera behind him would show that athletic ass flexing and then they’d cut to my reaction shot as he supposedly entered me.

I looked up at Ryan, at the bunched muscles in his arms and the hardness of his pecs. I could see the strain in his face from holding himself back—he wanted me as much as I wanted him.

And then he lunged with his hips and—
God!
I felt the full, thick shape of him as he pressed up against me for entrance, flattening the sticking plaster tight against my moist folds. “
Ah!”
I gasped out loud, my eyes going wide.

“
Awesome!”
said Dixon. “Great reaction shot, thank you, Jasmine. Now let’s go for some thrusting.”

Ryan began to thrust—basically dry-humping me through his flimsy briefs and the even flimsier sticking plaster. Except dry-humping isn’t really the word. I was soaked.

Every lunge of his hips made his cock grind against me and, because he had to aim slightly above me to give himself somewhere to go, he wound up rubbing back and forth against my clit. I was sucking in air through my nostrils, now, trying to focus on keeping control when all I wanted to do was let go. I felt my hands come up to trace the shape of Ryan’s shoulders and then down over his back. Then, as he started to go faster, I grabbed the sheets, wrenching the fabric up into sweaty hillocks and then hanging onto the pillow for dear life. I began to toss my head, my hair going everywhere. I was losing track of what we’d rehearsed and what was my own helpless reaction. Was I meant to be twisting my feet like that? Hooking my ankles around him? I couldn’t remember. I didn’t care.

And at the center of it all, as his cock caressed my swollen bud, the heat was building higher and higher, spinning slowly at first but gathering pace. At first, I just pushed it aside but, by the time Ryan went down to his forearms, hulking over me as he thrust and thrust, my head cradled in his hands, there was no denying it—and it was far too late.

I was going to come. I was going to have a real screaming orgasm right on the set and everyone was going to hear. I can’t
do
quiet orgasms. When I was sleeping on Karen’s couch, I had to wait until she was fast asleep and then stuff a pillow against my face.

Ryan’s hips were building into exactly the right rhythm, taking me up and up and up. I started to churn my hips beneath him, flexing up into him, my back beginning to arch. I could feel it coming, boiling up inside me.
Oh God
. Sending tendrils of hot silver pleasure down to every toe, every fingertip
Oh God....
I clenched my teeth, dug my fingers into the pillow above my head. My only chance was to hang on until—

“Just a little longer,” said Dixon helpfully. “I just want a tight shot of you arching your back like that….”

I arched my back desperately into the air, bowing as well as Nat or Clarissa could do it. Anything to move this forward toward the one point where I might be able to—

“Ryan, just move in harder against her, please,” said Dixon.

His cock shifted minutely and now the entire length of it was grinding back and forth against my clit and Oh God I was seconds away,
seconds
, the pleasure bubbling up to fill my chest, my neck, my face—
Pleasepleaseplease

“Okay Jasmine,” said Dixon. “Give me an orgasm any time you’re ready.”

I threw back my head. “
Mmmmmuuuuuuuugggggrahhhhh!!!”
I screamed. My legs wrapped tight around Ryan, locking him against me as my climax exploded. My breasts thrust up into his chest, my head dug into the pillow until only my scalp and ass were touching the bed. “
Nnnnnnnnnnaaah!”
My hands grabbed hold of Ryan’s back and dug in hard, my nails clawing at him. White-hot pleasure was erupting through me, destroying me, vaporizing everything I was, and leaving nothing behind. Every muscle in my body went tense as I rode it and rode it and rode it…..

And slumped back on the bed, red-faced and panting.

There was a shocked silence. When I looked to the side. The sound guy had taken off his headphones and was rubbing his ears. I’d deafened him. Dixon was looking at me, wide-eyed. “
Wow!”
he said at last. “Jasmine, that was incredible. That’s a wrap. You can both put your clothes back on.”

I looked back to Ryan. He was staring down at me, panting almost as hard as I was. I could see him studying my reddened face, a flush that had crept right down to my chest. He couldn’t suspect...could he?

He looked at me for a long, long time. And then he slowly moved off me.

I felt the sticking plaster come completely away. The damn thing had come off my skin completely and, as plasters always do, the one bit of adhesive that was still working had stuck to something else, instead. In this case, Ryan’s briefs. He was going to pull the thing off me.

With a micro-second to spare, I reached down and slapped my hand over the plaster just in time, separating it from him. And then clutched it there as I stood and turned away from him to dress.

I realized too late that I’d just shown him my naked ass—the one part of me he hadn’t gotten a good look at so far. I could feel his eyes on it, the heat of his gaze like a physical caress, and a hot wave went through me. I didn’t bother with the underwear, just slipped my robe on, my legs shaky and weak.
Did I really just come my brains out in front of a roomful of people?

They all thought I was faking,
I reassured myself.

Then I turned around and looked at Ryan.

Not all of them,
I realized.

Ryan was wearing his robe and holding his hand out toward me. “Come with me,” he said, his voice level. The look in his eyes was far more powerful, far more dangerous than simple lust. It was something a lot deeper, something I’d been trying to resist this entire time. And now, after that shattering orgasm, I no longer had the strength to deny it.

I took his hand and let him lead me off the set. He led me up flight after flight of stairs, and I realized we were heading for the roof.

Chapter 34

Jasmine

The love scene had been set at night. The studio around us had been dimly lit, the stairwell gloomy. So it was a shock to emerge into bright, cold sunlight and get my head around the fact it was still only late morning.

It’s not even lunchtime yet, and I’m standing nearly naked in a robe on top of a building. And I’ve just had an orgasm.

Ryan had dropped my hand and had stalked off across the rooftop away from me. I recognized the set of his shoulders from when he’d walked out of the screen test. He was
pissed.
At me? Because I’d come?

New York stretched out around us. The air wasn’t as bitterly chill as it had been in Central Park—in fact, the cold was actually a relief, after what I’d just been through. But the concrete was already chilly against my feet. Another few minutes and we were both going to start shivering.

Ryan turned to me at last. He was right up against the parapet.
As if he can’t stand to be near me,
I thought sadly. “Why?” he asked, his voice thick with emotion. I could see his chest heaving—he was trying to clamp down on his anger.

“Why what?” I whispered. I had a horrible feeling that I knew. I’d seen it in his eyes, downstairs.

“Why are you lying to me?” he said.

We stared at each other for a few seconds, the words hanging accusingly in the air between us.
Now, hold on,
I told myself.
Don’t panic. I can fix this.
I swallowed. “Ryan…” I put my hands out as if to pacify him. “I told you. I like you as a friend. And as someone to work with, to act with. But not—”

“Yes you do.” It was the most breathtakingly arrogant thing he could have said. In a way, that had always been my best defense. Once I’d told him firmly that I didn’t like him, I figured that even if he doubted it, he wouldn’t come right out and say it—he wouldn’t be so arrogant as to flat-out tell me I was wrong, and that I damn well
did
like him. But he’d just done exactly that.

My stomach suddenly fell the entire distance down to the ground floor. I’d underestimated how he felt about me. I’d known he liked me—liked me a lot, even. But this was more than
like
. This was….

My throat seemed to close up. I couldn’t breathe. I didn’t even allow myself to think the word. I didn’t want to think of him sitting in his patrol car, watching me from afar, week after week, then seeing me again at the screen test, spending time with me, rehearsing with me, his feelings growing, and growing into—

I didn’t want to think it because it was too close to what I was feeling.

“Yes,” I said. “I do.”

And then what I’d said sunk in. I hadn’t planned to say it. The words had just been pushed up out of the darkness and were said before I could stop them.

I hadn’t said it. Emma had. I saw the relief flood his face. I’d made him so happy, with those three words.

He took a step toward me.

I took a step back. I shook my head. “I can’t,” I said helplessly.

“
Why not?!”
He almost hissed it.

I shook my head again.
Shit!
Now what? I couldn’t be with him. I could
never
be with him. He would ask questions. They’d get deeper and deeper, going further and further into my past. And with Ryan, it would only take one slip, one tiny inconsistency in my story and he’d tug on the loose thread until the whole thing unravelled. My past would come rushing back. First as the collapse of Jasmine, a breakdown that would destroy me. Next, he’d see Emma and realize she was nothing like the bouncy, fun woman he knew. Then, when he discovered what had happened to me, there’d come anger and the need for revenge. With my dad and his friends, that would get him killed. Even if I could keep him safe, once he found out what I’d done—and failed to do—he’d hate me.

I’d been on my own for over three years. My instincts took over.

I ran.

But, just as I reached the door to the stairs, he overtook me and slammed it shut in front of me, then held it closed with one huge hand. I spun around to face him, backing up against the door.

“No!”
he snapped. “Not this time! You are
not
running and you are
not
going to hide from me. We’re going to stay up here until I know what’s really going on!”

I looked up at him, frantic. I was starting to shiver, now, and it had nothing to do with the cold. This was everything I feared. Trapped. Exposed. Forced to face the daylight. “I
can’t!
” It came out as almost a scream.

He put his face close to mine and his expression softened a little. He stared at me with those clear, deep blue eyes and nodded.
Yes. You can.

And, as I stared at him, something about his certainty, his sheer confidence in me, made me believe that maybe I could.

My head was throbbing. I felt physically sick, as if something was being ripped out of me—and it was, in a way. Emma was thrashing and screaming inside me, demanding to be heard, and I could feel my grip slipping, slipping—

And then she slipped right out of my grasp.

“I’m not who you think I am,” I said, my voice a low croak. I wasn’t crying. I was beyond crying. He’d cracked me open and was getting a glimpse down into my dark heart. The pain that was revealed was as fresh and raw as the day I’d buried it.

He pressed closer, a frown crinkling that gorgeous brow. “Whoever you are—
I like you.”

I shook my head again. He liked Jasmine. Sexy, bouncy, flirty Jasmine. That’s all he’d ever known. He thought that the scared girl he was glimpsing now was just Jasmine on a bad day. He didn’t know that this was the real me, and Jasmine was just an illusion.

“I know that somebody hurt you,” he said. He was being firm and calm, but he couldn’t keep a hint of anger from creeping in. It was only the smallest touch, just the faintest glimmer of the rage that he’d unleash on the person who’d hurt me—but even at that scale, it was awe-inspiring.
I will crush him
his voice promised.
I will annihilate him.

I knew that no one could stop my dad. But it was the first time someone had wanted to try and it sent a deep, deep throb through my heart.
 

I stared up at him. I couldn’t speak. Couldn’t move back because I was already flattened up against the door. There was no place to run.

“Let me help you,” he said.

No one can help me.