Twisted Reality (Blind Reality #2) (7 page)

The worst part about this whole situation was leaving Joey’s warm arms at the crack-ass of dawn and walking into a hot and humid trailer. I didn’t even bother anyone with a hello when I arrived on set, I just yelled out asking why the air conditioner wasn’t on because I was angry that my life isn’t going the way I want it to right now. It’s not even that hot, but between the thicker air and my frustration of having to end my honeymoon, it’s the only thing I could think of to let people know I’m not happy.

Without any more provocation on my part, the AC was flipped on, even though I probably could’ve done without it at four in the morning. I’m not sure what the director is thinking, starting us off on a sunrise scene, but whatever. They get paid the big bucks for their creative vision, not me.

“Sit here,” an overly eager and far too peppy woman with a headset on, who appears out of nowhere, barks orders at me. I’m willing to bet she was the one who flipped the switch on the air conditioner, as she’s the only other person in my trailer. She’s telling people what to do through her microphone and pointing in every direction even though there isn’t another person in sight. To my knowledge I’m the only one in here right now unless I’m sharing. And if that’s the case, Matt and I will be having words very shortly.

“Here’s your schedule for the day, along with your lines broken out per scene. You need to be in make-up in five.” With that she storms out, slamming the door behind her, and continues to yap into her headset. I go over the stack of papers, rereading the lines that I’ve already committed to memory. Even though I know them, I’ll refresh my memory before every scene because I know I’m likely to forget since my head isn’t in it right now.

As soon as I step outside, I wish for the cool air in my trailer. People with the same disgruntled look that I’m wearing, filter around mumbling incoherent sentences as they hustle to do their jobs. I’ve always said that one day I want to do each job on a movie set, but I never get the time and no one ever takes me seriously. Most A-list stars think I’m crazy when I say that, brushing me off as if I’m trying to prove something. I’m not. I’m trying to learn the craft because my good looks will only get me so far until the next young stud comes along. I need a backup plan. Everyone has to start and even finish somewhere, and while some were born into the industry, or happened to hit it big with one movie, I’m paving my way with each movie I’m in.

I realize as I walk into the make-up trailer I have no idea who my co-star is. The correspondence I had with Matt about this movie was that I refused to work with Jules. I never did follow up and see if the female lead was changed. I suppose once I find out who I’m working with, it will determine if I’m even staying on this film or not. For all I know Matt didn’t take it seriously and Jules is still starring opposite me.

I grab the first chair I see and sit down, letting the ladies get to work. One does my hair, while the other focuses on my make-up. It’s a hazard of the job and one that I loathe. I don’t know how women do it every day when the constant feeling that something is on your face drives me crazy. That is one of the things I love most about Joey. She’s not afraid to go without make-up.

“Well, you don’t need much,” the girl says as the brush moves over my face. “You’ve been tanning, I see.”

“The sun does wonders.”

“You should use sunblock,” she counters.

“You’re right and I do, but even that doesn’t always help.”

“Please take off your shirt.” She states it as if this is an every day occurrence for us.

“Excuse me?”

With a huff, she turns her back to me. I can see her reflection in the mirror as she looks down at her palette of make-up.

“Your scene is shirtless. I need to make sure your skin isn’t blotchy.”

I do as she says, placing my shirt on the counter in front of me.

“What is that?” The make-up artist points to a red spot that sits on my pec. I look down and rub my hand over the spot, remembering very clearly how it got there. Joey and I had just finished parasailing and were back in our cabana having a little fun. One thing led to another and she ended up biting me hard, leaving a mark. I happen to like it.

“An imprint of my wife’s teeth.”

The soulless eyes of my make-up artist try to burn a hole through my head. The way she looks at me should be enough to send me into a mess of tears while cowering in the corner.

“You have a shirtless shoot and you let some woman dig her teeth into your skin?”

For the first time in my career I’m faced with having to bite my tongue. Or maybe I shouldn’t. No one should speak about my wife, in any way, ever. Often I’d hear people talk about Jules and it bothered me, but not enough to say anything. With Joey, it’s different. I’m different.

“Let’s be very clear on one thing here,
that
woman is my wife and you will respect her whether she’s standing in this room or not. If she wants to leave her mark on me, then so be it. It’s your damn job to cover it up, and if that isn’t something you’re capable of doing I have no doubts you can be easily replaced.” I’m surprised by my tone. I never raised my voice, but made sure she understood me clearly. The hair stylist behind me never says a thing, even though she paused with her fingers in my hair. It’s slightly awkward, but I get it.

“It’ll take time.”

“Not my issue,” I remind her as I sit back in the chair and let them do their thing. If I thought she was going to be gentle, I was sadly mistaken. She took every opportunity to dig into my skin that she could, making sure I was well aware how angry she is that she had to work extra at covering up the blemish
. Next time she should ask me if I care … not that there’ll be a next time for her on any film I’ll be working on in the future
.

“Hello,” I call out as soon as I open the door to our suite. Soft music plays from behind our bedroom door. I follow the sound to the bathroom and peek in. My wife is encased in bubbles with headphones on and her lips are moving to whatever song she’s listening to. All I can think about is how my life is playing out in the movies. I’m in Alabama where her favorite movie is based out of and she’s playing Julia Roberts in the bathtub like
Pretty Woman
, minus the hooker part. This better have a happy fucking ending because after today I’m going to need one.

I contemplate letting her know I’m here or just start taking my clothes off. My dick is already straining against my pants, begging to be free and buried inside of her. The water splashing catches my attention and when I look, she’s eyeing me.

“Hey,” I say, stepping into the bathroom.

Joey moves to the edge and pulls off her headphones.

“Hi.” Her voice is sweet and soothing, something I missed all day. I thought I’d have time to call her, but I didn’t even have time to take a leak or grab food. Work was constant because my new co-star has to report to college for her last semester of classes so the director wants to get all her scenes done as soon as possible.

Bending down on my knees, I capture her lips with mine. I’ve missed the taste of her mouth and how she makes me feel like everything is right in the world. The attraction I feel for her is surpassing anything I have ever felt before.

Joey grabs at the buttons on my jeans and quickly works her hand inside my pants, pushing them down as much as she can over my hips. My cock jumps with anticipation knowing he’s about to get lucky.

Slipping off my shirt and losing the jeans, shoes, and socks, I step into the garden tub. The water is still hot and slightly burns my skin.

“How long have you been in here?”

“Only a few minutes.”

I pull her to me, unable to refrain from having her near me. Joey straddles me, the water sloshing around us. You would think that we’d avoid being in the tub or shower since this is the only place we could be alone while we were in the house, but yet here we are.

Her breasts are covered in soapy suds, making it hard for me to see her taut nipples, and before I can do anything about it, she leans forward and moves her wet body along mine. In an instant I’m hard and wanting to be inside of her.

“I missed you today,” I tell her, losing my fucking man card once and for all. All these emotions that she’s bringing out of me are hard to cope with, but necessary. With Jules I always felt detached, afraid to show her how I felt, but with Joey I can’t help it.

“Show me how much,” she all but begs as she continues to slide up and down my body. I don’t have to do anything when she centers herself, except guide her hips.

“This … this is what I’ve needed all day.” The words are choppy, but I manage to spit them out. Each thrust brings me deeper inside of her until I can’t take it anymore. Screwing in the water isn’t always the best.

“Come here,” I tell her as I try to maneuver us to sit on the edge. Joey follows quickly, wasting no time to straddle me. She cries out when I enter her, moving slowly until I’m fully sheathed. The lack of lubrication is not our friend right now.

“Does this hurt?”

She shakes her head, biting her lower lip. “It’ll be fine in a second.”

I brush my thumb against her clit as she moves up and down my shaft. My head rolls back when I feel her starting to get wet and her movements pick up.

“Oh God,” she moans as I bite down on her nipple and her nails dig into my back. I shouldn’t think about it, but the thought crosses my mind on how the make-up artist is going to feel tomorrow when she sees the scratches on my back. Thing is, I don’t give a flying fuck. If Joey wants to bite, pinch, and rip my skin apart, so be it. To me that means I’m doing my damn job and pleasing her.

“Best fucking welcome home I’ve ever had,” I tell her as my hands find her hips and help her thrust.

“I’ve thought about you all day.”

“I can’t wait for you to tell me all about it.”

I pick her up and place her on the counter, and as soon as I see myself in the mirror I know I want something different. Pulling out and lifting her up, I turn her so she can see, too.

“Watch while I fuck you.”

I push in slowly, watching as her eyes roll back in her head. For a moment I stare at my dick as it moves in and out of her, lost in the moment that I can do this every day with her as long as she’ll have me.

When I meet her gaze in the mirror I lose all train of thought about seduction and fuck the shit out of her. Her eyes tell me that this is what she wants, and when I see her hand splayed out on the bathroom mirror with her lip between her teeth I know I’m doing my job as her husband.