Filthy Beast(10)

But maybe not. There’s more to this story than I realized. He doesn’t seem to want to talk much about it, unless we’re talking about the good times, so I don’t press. It’s just good that we’re talking normally, and I don’t want to risk getting pissed off at him all over again.

Still… things are strange. I need to know more. I still want to understand what he was thinking back then. He’s a bastard that broke my heart, but I have to be around this bastard.

So it’s a truce for now. And who knows how long it’ll last.





5





Jackson





Every time I have to kiss Holly on set, I pretend that I’m kissing Tara.

It’s easier that way. Makes it feel more real. When my character says how bad he fucked up and kisses Holly’s character, I can really feel that shit if I pretend that Holly is Tara, and it’s me that’s saying everything to her.

Though it’s an action movie, and mostly I’m shooting guns, fighting dudes, and blowing shit up. Which is fun as hell.

But I do have to still act. Maybe my buddies from my old SEALs unit think what I’m doing is fucking ridiculous, I still take it seriously. It’s my job now, even though it’s not what I always thought I’d be doing. But I’m not the type of man to half-ass something.

People rely on me now. It took me a little bit to realize that, but it’s a lot like the military. Everyone relies on everyone else doing their job, and if we all work together, we can make something halfway decent. It’s my job to be the leading guy and to act, so I do my fucking hardest to make it all work.

Although I have to admit, I get distracted sometimes. Having Tara on set is a little more difficult than I thought it would be.

She’s just as fucking gorgeous as I remembered. After our little conversation a couple days ago, she’s been warming up to me, at least a little bit. Well, okay, she doesn’t turn and run whenever I get close to her, but we’re not exactly on great terms.

The anger is still there, below the surface. I don’t know what I can do about that, or if there’s even anything I can do. I know I deserve it. I know I have to make it up to her.

I can’t just tell her why I left. That’s taking the easy way out, and it isn’t fair. Everything she feels is real, and a lot of what I did back then was stupid as hell. I made mistakes and I pushed her away when I shouldn’t have, but I did it for what I felt were the right reasons. Even if I was wrong and those reasons were flawed, I still tried.

None of that matters now. I just need to stay close to her, and it’s not exactly hard on a movie set like this.

I keep catching glances. I keep noticing her staring at me. When I’m sweating after an afternoon of filming, wearing nothing but a torn t-shirt and some tight-fitting pants, I know she’s watching the way I move. I know she’s still attracted to me, even if she won’t admit it.

A couple days after that conversation, we film a particularly intense action scene. It takes all afternoon just to get like ten seconds of good, usable fighting film, and I’m back in my trailer, absolutely fucking exhausted.

These fight scenes are a nightmare. They’re shot from a hundred different angles and they’re done a million different times, so it’s up to Tara to make sure that it gets all stitched back together properly. She’s standing over Lionel’s shoulder all day, watching the monitors and trying to determine if the footage is going to link up and make some semblance of sense.

It also means she has to work closely with me. She’s coming on set, restaging everything, physically moving me back onto my marks and getting me in the right position. If I were less professional, I’d crack a joke or two, but I keep things serious between us.

But now, alone in my shower, I can picture her doing what I really want her to do. I want her to feel my bicep, kiss my neck, let me strip off her clothes. I want to taste that wet little pussy, lick every inch of it, make her moan and come hard as I slide myself inside of her.

I’m still fucking hard when I get out of the shower, dripping wet, a towel pulled around my hips. I whistle to myself, a smile on my face as my cock slowly softens, and I step out into the main part of my trailer.

“Jackson, I need you for just a second, did you—“

I stop short as Tara walks into my trailer and stares at me. I’m wearing just my towel, my body still slightly damp from the shower, my cock still a little hard from thinking about her. I watch as her eyes drift down my body and as soon as she sees my hard dick, they snap back up instantly.

She turns bright red. And I fucking love it.

I should be embarrassed, but I just don’t care. I love that Tara’s seeing me like this. Anyone else and I’d feel awkward that they’re seeing my hard dick, but not Tara. I want her to see it, want her to want it fucking badly.