“Action.”
Sophie got one deep breath in before he took her throat in his large hand. Tighter than she had expected, her breath hitched and her eyes watered.
“Tell me you’re mine.” His teeth were gritted, and his chin turned up aggressively.
Sophie closed her eyes, feeling one fat tear roll down her face and thankful that she was only the body double, and her weakness wouldn’t make it onscreen.
“I’m yours.” She muttered it quietly, her voice cracking slightly, confident in the knowledge that Michaela’s voice would be dubbed over.
“Say it again.”
His fingers flexed over her neck, giving the allusion of a tightening grip. Sophie winced accordingly.
“I’m…yours.”
Her hands gripped his forearm tightly and she opened her eyes to meet his. The script called for him to smile, she was sure of it. A ‘devious smirk’ she had read. His mouth however was set in a firm line and his icy blue eyes bore into hers.
“Mine.”
Off-script again. Our of the corner of her eye Sophie could see the director watching avidly, clearly happy to let him continue on.
James tensed his fingers once more, as a warning, and then threw her backwards onto the bed. Her head snapped back and she landed with a soft thump. Now at a lower angle, Sophie could see the shadowed outline of his erection alongside the zipper of his jeans.
‘What the fuck’
He approached like a panther, stalking his prey with unblinking eyes fixed. Sophie’s legs flexed instinctively and for a moment she forgot the script entirely. Did she have directions? Or could she safely lie here and gawk like the willing victim she now was.
James settled onto his knees between Sophie’s feet, and took each of her slender ankles in hand. The touch sent goosebumps raking up her legs, and once more she felt the wetness grow. His eyes flicked down for a moment towards her crotch, and Sophie’s face burned scarlet.
‘He can definitely see that.’
She could picture the dark outline of dampness, just nestled beneath the shadow of her curls.
His mouth turned up almost imperceptibly at the corner and then his eyes darted back up to her own.
‘Fuck fuck fuck.’
Never before had Sophie felt so out of control in a scene. For a moment her lips twitched as she considered calling ‘stop’ and taking a break to splash cold water on her face and give herself a talking to.
Before she could utter the word, James’ hands gripped her ankles slightly tighter, and for half a second the script came screaming back to her and she recalled what happened next.
In one swooping motion, he crossed his hands over and flipped her onto her stomach, pulling her ankles slightly further apart as she landed, and spreading her to him. Sophie’s burning face was buried deeply into the cool sheets, giving some relief from his glare, but as she felt his weight settle down into her, she turned her head to gasp a breath.
In what felt like 10 short seconds, James had unzipped his jeans, pressed himself firmly between the junction of her thighs, and nudged his knees sharply into hers to spread her further. Sophie gripped two handfuls of the white linen sheets and drew in another gasping breath.
The air felt thick, as if at altitude, and it was lucky the script called for her to sob, as her heaving chest could do little other.
His hands took hold of each of hers, and bringing them above her head, he ground his hips painfully into her soft flesh. She knew he would have a sock on beneath the jeans. About as dignified as her nude thong, and clearly as thin. She could feel the throbbing hardness easily through the cotton and her hips flexed back into his in answer.
“Arrrhh”
She heard the strangled moan escape his lips.
Another moan. This time from her own mouth. She had to quickly disguise it as another sob as best as she could, clenching her eyes tightly shut and biting her throbbing bottom lip firmly.
“Don’t fight me.” He stammered through clenched teeth as he rolled his hips against her once more.
‘I’m not I’m not I’m not I’m not.’
“Mine.”
He set a rhythm now. Again a steady roll of his hips rather than a sharp thrust. It pressed Sophie into the mattress each time, and she soon felt a gentle tingle begin as her sensitive skin was rocked methodically against the bed.
“Sorry. I can’t.”
The weight lifted off her instantly and left a chill rippling across her warm buttocks.
“Is everything ok?” Sophie blurted out, turning to see James sat at the edge of the bed, jeans done up, arms laying strategically across his crotch and hands gripping his calf.
“I’m really sorry, it’s an old injury I think I’ve just pulled slightly. Can we take a break? Or maybe carry on tomorrow? I’ll need to go get someone to look at this.”
The director stood mouth agape and brow furrowed.
“I…guess so. Christ. WRAP UP, TOMORROW 8am.” He called out to the crew and over his walkie talkie, before storming away.
“Are you ok?” Sophie leaned forwards to touch him, the intimacy of the last 5 minutes still lingering.
“Yep. Fine sorry. We’ll get this finished tomorrow maybe.”
He stood quickly, not turning around and walked away. Leaving Sophie to swallow down the lump in her throat.
– – –
‘Maybe I’m due on, this isn’t me. Don’t know what the fuck I’m doing. Felt like crying today at the end of the scene. I’m a grown fucking woman! Definitely need to take a break soon, I must just be exhausted. Will tell you the rest tomorrow.’