Something twists in my gut, but I can't pinpoint the reason why. It's not like I expected that the present was for me. "Sure."
"After I drop it off we can do whatever you want, and I really want to see your place."
She reads off the address to me from her phone and she's right, it's only a ten-minute drive. She keeps talking about Tony and how silly he is, but she loves him so she's willing to do this kind of stuff for him. The neighborhood we're in isn't exactly great, but there are plenty of sketchy neighborhoods around here. The neighborhood I live in right now isn't exactly high class. We pull up to a house with peeling white paint and I point to it. "That's it."
"Okay. I'll just be two seconds."
"So you want me to come with you?"
She waves a hand. "No, just a drop off. I'm not going in for tea and cookies." She hops out of the car and up the stairs and I watch as she rings the doorbell. Not long after a handsome man in jeans and a t-shirt comes to the door. It looks like they have a brief interaction and he smiles wide as he takes the present from her. I don't miss the way he looks her up and down as she comes back to the car. I don't like him.
"All done," she says as she slides back in. "Now, let's go see your place."
I don't say anything as we drive away, but I can't shake the feeling that that guy isn't the kind of guy that my mom should be interacting with anymore, and that there's a lot more going on here than meets the eye. But I can't lose mom. Not now when she's come back. Not after losing Amber. I'm not sure how many more losses I can take, so I'm going to enjoy the fact that she's here and clean and so far, seems like most everything is okay.
8
Peter
Present
Fucking hell.
Shit.
What the fuck was that?
I had a plan. A perfect plan to stay away from Amber and keep it cool and professional and perfectly clean just the way she wanted it. I'm so frustrated that I could scream. I settle for storming across the lot to my trailer and back, and to it again. I scrub my face over my hands because this is too much. Of course this would happen. Of course the universe would put us in a position where we have to kiss, and I have to be the one to stop it. Of course that kiss would feel like oxygen when I'm suffocating.
I'm so hard that it aches and I don't want anything but to walk back onto set and pull Amber out of there so I can fuck her up against a wall. In her chair. In my chair. On the concrete ground of the lot. I don't care. I can still feel the imprint of her lips on mine and the way she wrapped herself around my neck. There's no doubt in my mind that she still wants this. Wants us. But how can she with everything that she said? Not to mention that she nearly just did what she claimed she was so afraid of, getting so lost in our kiss that she didn't even hear Clay call cut.
I have to do something. Anything. This tension needs to come out. Storming into my trailer, I have one hand on the lock and one hand on my belt. I can't undo it fast enough, and I'm so hard that when my cock springs free I almost come because of the relief. I drop my hand to touch myself, and I hiss with the harshness and friction. It's only steps to my bathroom, and I step inside. Most people probably won't be surprised that I have lotion handy. There are hours and hours of waiting on set, and sometimes you need to blow off steam.
Shit, thinking about blowing makes me think about Amber on her knees, mouth open, waiting for me. She hasn't done that for me since we were together before, but I swear I remember it like it was yesterday. The lotion on my hand is slick, and suddenly this friction is perfect and delicious and god I'm going to come fast. I need to come fast.
In my mind's eye I see her taking the tip of me in her mouth, cherry red lipstick coating my cock as she bobs up and down, taking me deeper. Those perfect eyes look up at me, and I swear she smiles, eager for me. It's when her tongue strokes me that I lose it, pleasure blazing through my balls and up my spine and out. I stroke myself until every last drop of pleasure fades, my breath coming hard and fast as I lean back against the wall. The intensity of that orgasm was absurd, and Amber isn't even here. Fuck.
I clearly need a new plan, because this one isn't going to work.
Maybe I should talk to her. She said she wanted to, but I'm hesitant. My chest could be ripped open at any second, and she could tear my heart out, and stomp on it in front of me. And I would let her do it, because even if I pretend that I don't, I love Amber. I always have. Shit.
I don't know if this show is the best thing that ever happened to me or the worst. I was happy before the show, or happy enough. In the last couple of months, I've had more highs and lows than the entire ten years we were apart. Is risking everything for what I think would be true happiness worth the pain it would bring? My gut says yes, but my head remembers how hard it was when she left the first time. I could probably do it again if I had to, but that kind of pain isn't something that I'd wish on anyone.
There's a knock on my door, and I startle. "Yes?"
"Mr. Holleman? They need you in wardrobe for your next costume."
"I'll be right there."
I'm still leaning against the wall with my cock out of my pants. Shit. I'm not holding this together very well. I'm glad that Michael hasn't turned up yet today or he would lose his shit. He would be in here yelling at men about kissing Amber. And I probably would have punched him because I wouldn't give that kiss back for the world, even if it was in front of the entire crew. Amber in Genova’s low cut, skin-tight top, the way she pressed up against me, it's turning me on again, and I clean myself up and redo my pants before stepping out of the trailer, a nervous PA still standing there.
I know my way to the wardrobe closet, but I'm not going to take it out on the PA. He's just doing his job, and based on how young he is, it's probably his first one. I remember my first on-set job, I was about to piss myself the whole time.
Thankfully we're doing some more easy shots this afternoon. No dialogue, no intense emotions, and no kissing. If I had to kiss her again I would combust. Not that that's a bad thing. But the moment I walk onto the set again I know that things are different. This morning I was doing an okay job keeping myself separate. I wasn't aware of where she was or what she was doing. I wasn't trying to make her smile from across the room. Now, I feel like there's a magnetic force that's pulling towards each other, and I don't fight it.
She's looking down at her script as I approach, and she looks up when I step in front of her. The shock and relief in her eyes makes me want to kiss her again right here. "Amber."
"Peter."
"I was short with you this morning. I apologize. At some point I would be happy to talk about us." I try to keep my tone as even as possible. This needs to be objective. We need to evaluate everything from every angle and decide. Or she does. I've made my decision and I'm hers if she'll have me. She's wearing that lipstick that I saw in my fantasy and I'm distracted by the sight of her lips.
"Really?" Her voice is breathless and hopeful.
I nod. "Yes. When there's time."