Not fun at all.
I’ve worked with Natasha before, but this is the first time we’ll be doing a sex scene together. And a sex scene like this is always tough, especially on the first day of filming.
Brandon says he likes to get the important and difficult scenes done first, so there’s time to come and revisit if needed.
Honestly, I just feel weird. Doing sex scenes in general feels strange. But that’s not what’s bugging me most.
Charly is.
Or how I feel about her…
Basically, how much I want her.
I can’t remember wanting a woman this much before. Especially not one I’ve known for such a short amount of time.
Seeing her this morning didn’t help anything. She was in that sexy little dress, which, as I heard, she’d made herself. I don’t know why I find that hot, but I do. And those boots…Jesus Christ. I have visions of her wearing nothing but them—her long legs wrapped around my waist, the heels digging into my back, while I fucked her hard.
I can’t seem to stop obsessing over what it would be like to fuck her.
But I can’t. I need to keep my mind on this film and nothing else.
So, I was distant with her this morning. I figure, if she thinks I’m a moody asshole, then she won’t try to be my friend. The last thing I need is for Charly to try to be my friend.
But that still hasn’t stopped me from thinking about her since she left my trailer this morning.
I’m on set, and we’ve already shot the first scene, which was Natasha dancing for me. Now, we’re getting ready for the sex scene.
I have to change from the suit I’m wearing into another one of the exact same, but that one will have some marks on it.
I go into the changing trailer on set, where Alex put the spare clothes for me. Ava’s in there. But no sign of Charly.
“Hey,” I say to Ava.
“Change time?” she asks with a smile.
“Yeah. Where are the clothes? Never mind,” I say as I see them hanging off the rail.
I grab the suit and then look inside the garment bag for the cock sock.
“Ava, there’s no cock sock in here.”
“There isn’t?” She comes over to look. “Was it in there earlier?”
“I don’t know. Alex got the first set of clothes out for me.”
“Oh, no worries. I’ll see if I have one here.”
She goes off rummaging through drawers. I slip off the jacket, tossing it onto a chair, kick off the shoes, and start unbuttoning the shirt.
“I don’t seem to have one. But don’t worry. I’ll call Charly and have her run one over for you.”
While I’m happy that I’ll get to see Charly, I’m not exactly thrilled at the fact that she’s coming to bring me a cock sock.
I step into the changing room and pull the curtain across.
I hear Ava on the phone while I change.
“Charly, the cock sock is missing from Vaughn’s items needed for today’s take. No, it’s okay. Don’t worry; no problem at all. Yeah, that’s fine.”
Dressed, I pull the curtain back and step out with the rest of the clothes, tossing them onto the same chair as the jacket.
“Charly’s just on her way back to wardrobe now. She’ll be about ten minutes, so she’s going to bring it to set for you, if that’s okay?”
“That’s fine.” I push my feet into the shoes and head for the door.
“See you later,” I say to Ava.
I walk across the lot and back onto set where Natasha is having her makeup retouched.
I sit down on the seat beside her. She’s wearing a dressing gown. She has it worse than me. She’s been dressed in a bra and panties all morning. At least I’ve gotten to wear a suit for most of it.
A makeup artist comes over and starts retouching my makeup.
“How are you doing?” Natasha asks.
“Good.”
“Feeling okay about this next scene?”
“Fake fucking in front of fifty-plus people? Walk in the park.” I slide a look at her, and she laughs.
“Never gets any less weird, does it?”
“Nope,” I reply. “How’s the family doing?” I ask, changing the subject to something lighter.
“Good. Brody just cut his first tooth.” She gets her cell from the pocket of her gown and pulls up a picture to show me.
I lean over to take a look. “Good-looking kid. See he takes after you and not Carter.”
“I’ll tell Carter you said so.”
I laugh. “How is Carter?”
“He’s good. It’s just hard for me, being away from him and Brody so soon after having him, but I couldn’t pass up this opportunity to do this film.”
“Yeah, I get that.” And I do.
“How’s your family?”
“Good,” I tell her. “My sister is finally getting married next month. They’ve only been together for fifteen years and have three kids.”
“Better late than never.” She laughs. “That’s your oldest sister, right? The one who got engaged a while back?”
“Yeah, Sasha.”
I have two sisters, both older than me—Sasha and Meg. Both the bane of my existence growing up, but now, I couldn’t imagine life without them.
Sasha and Greg, her fiancé, are going to get married at my parents’ place, where I grew up, in Keno, Oregon. My mom and dad have a farm there; it’s been in my family for generations. It’s also where I have my ranch—the only home I own. Not many people know about it. I had it built out on the furthest reach of my parents’ land. It’s private, just like I wanted.
I’m really close to my family—my mom and dad, Sasha and Greg, Meg and her husband, Vic, along with my nieces and nephews, and my grandma. She’s the best. Absolutely batshit crazy, but I love her for it.
My family is the only sane thing I have in this fucked up existence I call my life.
“Vaughn.”
Her voice touches me like her hands have brushed my skin.
I glance up to see Charly standing beside me.
God, she’s stunning.
“I have the sock for you.” She holds the cock sock out for me.
And the moment is killed.
I take the sock from her. “Thanks.”
I want to talk more to her, but I need to keep my distance, and I really need to get my head in the scene.
“I’m gonna go put this on,” I tell Natasha.
I get up and walk away, heading for the restroom, without acknowledging Charly even though it pains me to do so.
Vaughn
The cameras are rolling. Music is pumping out in the makeshift club on set, The Weeknd’s “Starboy” thrumming in my ears. Natasha—or as I should say, Lexi—is currently gyrating on my lap, dancing for me—well, for my character, Drew Asher.
Only thing is…I can’t seem to get my head in the scene and off Charly.
I don’t get why she’s infecting my thoughts so much. It has to be because I can’t have her. Forbidden fruit and all that.
I force myself back into character. On cue, Drew gets to his feet, picking up Lexi, and carries her over to the bar where he deposits her on the top, none too gently.
Personally, I would take a little more care of my woman, but this isn’t me. This is Drew, and Drew’s an asshole; therefore, I’m currently an asshole.
Well, I am an asshole, too. Just not in bed. I like to make sure my woman is happy and taken care of, putting her needs before my own.
Lexi pulls Drew into her body, using her legs wrapped around his waist.
Drew kisses her hard. His fingers buried deep in her hair, controlling the action.
A flash of kissing Charly like this appears in my mind.
Holding her like this, pushing my tongue into her mouth.
I can feel myself start to lose hold of Drew, imagining this is me kissing Charly.
Jesus Christ. Drew is kissing Lexi. Get with the fucking program, Vaughn.
It’s not like me to lose character like this.
Dragging myself back, Drew grabs ahold of Lexi’s legs and pulls them from around him. Stepping back, sliding his hands down her legs, he parts them wide, hooking each of her heeled feet onto the barstools on either side of them.
My eyes come up.
Charly.
She’s standing there, right in my eye line, watching.
What the fuck is she doing here?
I know she has to be on set, but couldn’t she stand somewhere else?
This scene is hard enough to do as it is without the current source of my dick’s desire right where I can see her.
I feel a rush of anger at her.
Unable to do anything, I throw the feeling into my character.
Fixing his eyes on Lexi, Drew yanks his jacket off, throwing it aside. He rips off the shirt he’s wearing, sending the buttons scattering. His shoes are kicked off. Belt buckle is the next to go. The zipper is pulled down, and the pants are off.
And then Drew is standing there, stark fucking naked.
There’s always that moment when my brain catches up to the joke—that it is actually me who’s naked, but for a cock sock, in front of all these people.
Quick as a switch, I flick my brain back to Drew.
Drew doesn’t give a fuck that people can see him. Or that he’s about to fuck a stripper on the bar in front of them all.
Stepping back up to Lexi, Drew rips her panties off, making her gasp.
Leaving her in just the bra she’s wearing.
And Natasha with only a nude patch covering the part that no other man but her husband should be seeing.
I really fucking hate this part. More than I hate having to get naked myself. I hate having my friend out here, naked with pretty much everything on show.
But then she’s not alone.
We’re in this together.
But Natasha, being the professional she is, stays in character.
Lexi reaches up, hand going to the back of Drew’s head, and drags him to her mouth, kissing him.
And then they’re fucking. Well, Natasha and I are fake fucking. But for Drew’s and Lexi’s characters, they’re going at it, right here on the bar in this Vegas nightclub, with everyone watching.
And no one stops them.
Because he’s Drew Asher, and he does what the fuck he wants.
Unlike me. Who can’t fuck anyone until this film is done.
Lexi is moaning like it’s the best sex she’s ever had. Drew is pounding into her. His head comes up from her shoulder, and his eyes meet with Charly’s.
For a brief moment, I forgot she was there.
Fuck.
I need to look away. Back to Natasha—Lexi, whoever the fuck.
But I can’t take my eyes off Charly.
The look in her eyes…she looks turned on.
And it’s turning me on.
Then, she bites her lip.
Jesus.
I groan, closing my eyes.
I need to get out of my head—or get Charly out of my head.
Drew.
He opens his eyes, but when he looks down, he’s not staring at Lexi.
I’m staring at Charly.
What the actual fuck?
I shut my eyes tight.
Opening them back up, I see Natasha.
But I need to see Lexi.
Fuck, my head is so messed up right now.
Drew kisses Lexi, his hips pumping hard against hers. Her legs move, coming around his waist, the stilettos of her heels digging in his back.
Charly’s boots.
My mind flashes back to that scenario of fucking her with only those boots on.
Oh, Jesus, no.
I’ve got a hard-on.
I’ve got a fucking hard-on.
Think of something to get rid of it.
Mom. Grandma. Grandma naked.
Fuck! It won’t go down.
It’s because I haven’t had sex for so long.
Now, he’s up, and he’s not going anywhere.
Natasha slides her hand into my hair, bringing her lips to my ear, which is now concealed by her arm. She whispers, “You okay?”
She can feel my erection.
How could she not when it’s poking her in the thigh?
God, I’m mortified.
I’m fucking this up—literally.
This has never happened to me before.
It’s all Charly’s fault for being so hot and being right here.
I need to get a handle on this.
“Cut!” Brandon calls.
Thank fuck.
“What happened?” Natasha asks, tipping her head back, staring me in the eyes.
She looks uneasy, and I feel like a fucking pervert.
I close my eyes on an embarrassed groan. “I’m so sorry.”
She laughs. “Don’t worry. It’s fine. It happens.”
“Not with me, it doesn’t.” I’ve never gotten a hard-on while doing a sex scene. “It’s not you,” I reassuringly tell her.
“I don’t know whether to be insulted or relieved by that statement.” She laughs again.
“I’ve got your robe, Natasha,” Logan says from beside us.
“You okay to move?” Natasha asks me.
“Um…” I glance around for the current source of my problem because she’ll be the one with my robe.
God, this situation is so fucked up.
I see her approaching with my robe in hand.
“Sure.” I shift back a little, allowing Natasha room to move. I help her down from the bar, making sure to keep my pecker pointed in the direction of the bar and nowhere else.
“Here’s your gown,” Charly says from beside me. “You want me to help you put it on?”
“No, I got it.” My voice comes out sharper than intended.
I take the robe from her without looking at her.
I can’t look at her right now.
I just need to get the fuck out of here and clear my head for a few minutes.
That, or go and tug one out.
I pull the robe on my arms, but it feels tight.
“Why doesn’t this fit?” I bark, finally looking at her.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I must have mixed up gowns with Logan.”
She laughs, and something inside me pops.
All I want is to get my cock covered and get the fuck out of here and away from her because I want her, and I can’t have her, so somehow, now, this is all her fault.
“You think this is funny?” I snap. “I’m stark fucking naked. All I ask for is a fucking robe that fits, and you can’t even get that fucking right!”
Hurt flashes through her surprise-filled eyes. Those gorgeous blueberry eyes.
Guilt lances across my chest, leaving behind a painful ache.
The whole set is silent.
I can feel my face prickling with shame and residual anger.
Anger that I directed in the wrong place.
I’m such a prick.
I see movement in my peripheral. Logan is handing her a robe. She takes it from him and holds it out to me. Her arm stiff. Her expression fixed. But her eyes can’t hide the hurt.
“Charly…” I softly say her name, taking the robe from her.
Suddenly, I don’t care so much about putting it on. I just want her to forgive me.
And, anyway, my erection is gone. Apparently, my cock doesn’t like me hurting her either.
“Do you need anything else, Mr. West?” Her voice sounds strong, but I hear the slight waver in it.
It makes me feel like shit.
I swallow down. “Pins…”
“No? Well, okay then,” she says in an overly loud voice, “I’ll take these to get laundered.” She quickly picks up my discarded clothes that I removed in the scene, clutches them to her chest, and strides away, leaving the set through an exit door.
“What the hell was that?” Natasha says in a low voice, coming up beside me.
I
pull on the robe, tying the belt. “I don’t know.” I sigh.
“That wasn’t like you, Vaughn.”
I look her in the eye. “I know,” I say.
Something flickers in her eyes.
“Ah, you like her,” she says. “That’s what caused the chubby.”
“Chubby? Jesus, Natasha.”
“What?” She laughs. “I’m a mom now.”
I shake my head.
“So, you like the girl. Go for it. She seems sweet.”
“I can’t.” I sigh, leaning back against the bar that Drew just screwed Lexi on. “I promised Jack and myself that I’d keep my pecker clean while I made this movie.”
Understanding passes over her face.
“Well, no matter what, you owe her an apology.”
“Yeah”—I sigh, looking over at the door Charly just exited out of—“I know.”
Charly
I don’t cry.
It’s not something I ever do.
The one and only time I remember crying was when my grandmother died.
That was twelve years ago. I haven’t shed a tear since.
I think my tear ducts are defunct.
When I do get hurt or upset though, I get angry.
And, right now, I’m seething fucking mad.
What a wanker Vaughn West is!
Yelling at me like that in front of everyone. All I did was accidentally pick up the wrong robe. It was an easy mistake to make. And, honestly, I was just feeling all flustered after watching that scene he did with Natasha, and I wasn’t paying full attention to what I was doing.
And don’t think I didn’t spot the erection he was sporting after the scene. Sure, it must be hard, being a guy and grinding up all over a beautiful woman, but she’s married with a kid, and he got a hard-on over her, which is gross.
But then he did get an erection before I stabbed him in the balls. Maybe he just gets hard when he’s close to a woman. He does like to put out, as the press has recently reported.
Ugh. He’s a pig!
He’s off my Christmas card list—not that he was ever on it.
This morning, after I thought on it, I figured he had probably been off with me in his trailer because he was tense over doing that scene. So, I was going to let it go. But, oh no, super asshole comes out to play after the scene is over.