Ericastwilight AN: Another idea I talked to kyla713 about and we wrote it together. We seem to get more things done working this way. So yay! Enjoy, it kinda took a life of its own.
kyla713 A/N: The things our minds concoct together… but at least there was no snakes this time. :) Hope you all enjoy it.
By kyla713 and ericastwilight
Summary: It was actress Bella's first love scene and she was nervous. Director Edward tries to encourage her. However, when the scene starts, can Edward keep himself together? Remain professional? And after, keep himself in control?
The day started much like all the rest since we started work on the film forty-five days before. However, it was the last day of filming; the crew was on edge since the final scene we were preparing for would be the most difficult. It was also the most pivotal scene in the entire film.
All that did not compare to the fact that it was Isabella Swan's first love scene ever. The Oscar-winning actress had taken Hollywood by storm over the last several years with her gripping, realistic performances in some of the most controversial films to hit the big screen.
She was young and an American sweetheart that blushed and was honest-to-God humble. Isabella hated to be the center of attention, yet when she arrived at a red carpet event, the cameras were drawn to her. With long dark hair, matching eyes and a body that was to die for, Isabella Swan was a surefire Hollywood Box Office winner.
I passed the set where the last scene would take place and pointed out a few things to the correlating crew members. There were several tentative smiles and even a couple pats on the back. I was a relatively easygoing director, unless we were having a bad day. If the acting was shit, the weather sucked or some idiot actor forgot his lines, I was not a nice person.
A nice person doesn't get the filming done before the deadline or under budget. A nice person doesn't get the recognition I'd received since I graduated film school and picked up the camera. The three Oscars and four Golden Globes were not on my shelves because I kissed these multi-million dollar, budget-busting actors' asses—I kissed no one's ass.
The two scenes we'd already filmed since we started at six in the morning had gone extremely well. I chose not to mention again that, in all likelihood, it was due to the fact that James Kings was not in any of them. However, for some reason, the crew seemed to be waiting for me to blow up again.
I hadn't made anyone cry in more than three days; it was a fucking record. Ben, my sound guy, gestured toward the make-up trailer and shook his head. I sighed and told Eric, one of my lighting supervisors, to add more accent lights under the back kitchen cabinet. Once everything else seemed to be in place, I checked on my actors.
I knocked on James's trailer, ignoring the quiet whispers of everyone that I passed. The arrogant ass had the nerve to say he was meditating, when in fact, I could hear him fucking Vicky, our costume designer, that had already ridden his stunt double's dick the week before.
"Ten minutes, Kings," I snarled. "Or I'm getting Mike to stand in." I honestly believed that Mike had more talent in his fucking pinky than James had in his entire body. Plus, he was gay. James was a damn prick that thought it should be an honor to work with him.
"Be out in twenty, boss," the shit said with a laugh that was followed by a girlish giggle. Christ, they let anybody into Hollywood. I shook my head and pounded on the door again. The only reason I'd been driven to getting James on the set was because he'd bitten the heads off everyone else that tried. The man was a fucking nuisance; no matter how good-looking he was thought to be.
There was a grumble and what sounded like him slapping Vic's ass before he opened the door with a sneer on his face. His grey eyes met mine and he cocked a dark blond eyebrow. "I'd say you're not getting any, Cullen," he said smugly. "Why else would you be cockblocking me daily? Jealous?"
I growled and desperately wanted to punch the fucker, but I had better things to do. "Maybe if you quit fucking anything with a pair of legs, it wouldn't seem like I'm affecting your sex life so often." I stepped a little closer so that he knew I meant what I had to say. "Now get your ass ready and make sure you wipe off your dick."
He smirked and chuckled. "I really should, considering that pretty thing will soon be riding it." Before I could react, the door shut in my face. I hated that fucker. I pulled myself together; Isabella could not see me that way—ready to kill. She was skittish enough as it was about the upcoming scene.
There had to be a way to make her feel better. She was a brilliant actress, who was about to step a little out of her comfort zone. I lifted my hand and knocked on the door to the makeup trailer. Jessica Stanley, a local superstar in her own right, answered with a small smile. She'd been in the industry for over twenty years and knew many of the secrets behind most of Hollywood's starlets.
"She's all yours, Edward," she said as she stepped out.
"Are you heading to James?"
She nodded and visibly shuddered. "Why can't I work with more actors like her?"
"Just a warning, Victoria should be leaving his trailer." I grinned since I knew how she felt about the woman. And right on cue, Jessica nearly gagged. Laughing, I patted her shoulder and asked about Isabella.
"Why you still insist on calling her that is beyond me."
I shrugged. "She asked me to."
She nodded and sent me a little wave over her shoulder. Taking a deep breath, I entered the trailer and found Isabella curled up on the couch with her copy of the script in her hand.
Her dark eyes looked up, giving me a wary smile. "Hi."
"You okay?" I asked as I walked toward her. She cocked an eyebrow and I knew she was going to try playing it off.
"I'm fine, Mr. Cullen," she replied with a tiny shrug. "I'm just trying to get into character."
"Need any help?" As I asked, my eyes roamed over her—she looked exquisite. Her hair, which normally would be in a ponytail, fell loose over her shoulders in a mass of dark curls. She wore a long, white button-down shirt, something her character would wear to bed. However, the discomfort of being so exposed was clear in Isabella's features, no doubt wishing she could instead be dressed in her usual attire on set—a comfortable pair of jeans and a hoodie. Her bare feet were tucked beneath her, pressing her long legs firmly together, but even when she tried to tug the shirt down more, it still left little to the imagination.
Isabella tossed the script aside and let her head fall back as she exhaled harshly. "I'm not really worried about the sex scene as much as slapping the man." Internally, I grinned. Of course, she'd be worried about hurting someone. "The sex is pretend, but that slap will be real. Not to mention that I have to cuss."
Could she be any sweeter?
I laughed. "That's what you're worried about?" When she nodded and her narrowed gaze bore into my own, I knew she was serious. "Okay, sit up." I sat beside her and cocked an eyebrow. "Repeat after me." Her lips thinned as did her gaze, but she squared her shoulders, tipped up her chin, ready to comply. "Shit. Fuck. Hell. Asshole. Bitch. Dick. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck."
A corner of her bottom lip slipped between her teeth, and I noticed that her breathing had changed. I took a deep breath to compose myself, because the situation seemed to have taken a wrong turn. I had gone in there to calm her, and instead, she appeared even more nervous.
"Repeat that again, please?" she asked softly, watching me closely. As I complied, I realized that she was watching my mouth. I closed my eyes, knowing I had to leave immediately before I did something that would further delay the shoot.
I cleared my throat, since she had gone completely silent. "Shit. F-fuck. Hell. Asshole. B-Bitch. Dick. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck."
Leave now, Cullen! No wonder she'd gone mute when I said the words. Her mouth looked edible as her teeth scraped over her bottom lip when she said "fuck."
I swallowed and stood up immediately. "See, Isabella," I said, clearing my throat again. It had suddenly gone dry. "You'll do fine."
She smirked as if she knew what was wrong with me when I turned to leave. Before I did, however, I pressed a kiss to her forehead. And it served its purpose. She sighed softly, and as I left, I could see that she visibly relaxed. Too bad it had the opposite effect on me.
I called for silence on the set as Isabella moved toward the stove of the kitchen. She lifted a spoon to stir something in the pan as her character would.
"Action," I said firmly. The stagehand called the scene number and Isabella's hand started to stir, her eyes darting toward the door. She appeared agitated, nervous and fearful. She bit her lip as she looked over her shoulder at the clock on the wall.
Isabella closed her eyes and whispered, "Where are you, David?"
Suddenly, the door opened and James slammed it closed behind him, startling Isabella, her hand rising to her throat. Again, nerves had her trembling, fear clouded her eyes. With the fierce entry of her "husband", she became concerned as he crossed the kitchen quietly, unable to meet the eyes of his "wife".
"David," she said softly as she shut off the stove and the spoon she held clanked heavily on the counter. "Did you do it? Did you pay them off?"
James exhaled sharply and his hand went over his short hair, finally meeting Isabella's gaze. Her entire face looked as if someone had ripped her heart out as tears started to form, her eyes glistening. Full, beautiful lips thinned as her whole body tensed and her hands clenched into fists.
Her hand came up and flattened, slapping his face. His head whipped to one side as his breath picked up, but before he could grab her wrist, I cried out, "Cut!" James turned toward me, his beady eyes narrowing. "James, you need to put more whiplash behind that slap." I ignored his growl and looked toward Isabella. "You can hit him a little harder. He can handle it."
Isabella's eyebrow rose, a tiny smile and a glimmer shone in her eyes. "Are you sure?" she asked innocently, her question directed toward James. Damn, she was good.
"Of course," James said with a shrug. "Give me all you got. Anyway, you hit like a girl," he teased, running his hand down her arm. Isabella managed not to react to his touch, but I could see the fire behind her eyes. She merely nodded, smiling sweetly as if he hadn't insulted her. Did he have no idea that the woman had a black belt? A part of me wished that he'd piss her off enough for her to put those skills to the test, but that would be bad. Right?
I called for silence once again, tramping down my need to put a stop to the scene. A part of me needed to remain professional, but the other hated the fact that I had to be there to observe. Deep inside, I knew she'd be acting, but fuck, it wouldn't be easy to watch her.
Both Isabella and James played their parts perfectly, and as she slapped him again, I took great pleasure from the look of anger and pain in his eyes. The red mark on his face would sting for hours and remind him of his place.
"Don't do that again," James hissed, holding her wrist up high as she tried to hit him again. "I thought I could double the money so I could buy your ring back."
"Fuck you!" she spat. "That's what you said last month, when you landed yourself in this shit." She pried her hand from his and thumped her fist against his chest as he attempted to pull her to him. In a flurry of movements, she fought him tooth and nail, but he overpowered her, managing to grab both of her hands, pulling them behind her. Tears streamed down her face, she twisted in his hold as he pushed her against the edge of the kitchen table. The chairs on either side of them fell over, a few plates shattered as they hit the floor from the force.
James rested his forehead on hers, panting as he spoke. "I'm sorry, baby."
She cried out in anger, screaming his name as she attempted to free herself again. "How could you? How you could you do this to us?" Her sobs racked her entire body, her chest arching closer to James. She wretched one of her hands from his hold, pulling his head closer. "You're as good as dead!"
And suddenly, the tension between them melted into something else and their mouths met harshly. Her leg rose to hook around his and she leaned back, lowering their bodies to lay on the table behind them. His free hand raised her shirt up over her hip, exposing the tantalizing line of her leg and the curve of her ass. His grip tightened on her thigh, already causing a slight coloring of her pale skin from the pressure of his fingertips.
I watched a tear slipped down her temple as her body arched desperately against him when he ground his hips between her parted legs. The resonating sound of a zipper and the movement of fabric as he shoved his clothing down to mid-thigh was like nails on a chalkboard, jolting down my spine. Combined with the sight of the thin strap of her panties lowering even minimally down her hip as he shifted them aside to expose her, I needed to take slow, even breaths through my nose.
Focus, Cullen. It's a scene. You've done hundreds of them before. In five minutes, it will be over. Just remember that and keep your eyes on the screen, I calmed myself in my head.
A loud guttural moan escaped her and echoed through the entire set as he "entered her," and I tried to remain calm and professional. Yet, it was difficult to not notice every male eye in the room focused directly on the repetitive meeting of James' hips with Isabella's—possibly even envisioning themselves in his place.
"Oh God," Isabella sighed heavily with her lips parted, one hand clenched in his hair while the other gripped the edge of the table above her head. Her head tilted back as James' hand cupped the outside of her breast and her legs wrapped around him, curling her toes into the backs of his thighs. I held my breath as I watched his fingers trace over her chest to the parting of the fabric, bunching it in his fist and pulling it aside roughly.
"Cut!" my voice bellowed across the set as I stood abruptly from my chair and storming directly toward James. My eyes furiously shot around to each stunned face of the crew, as well as Isabella's as she nervously sat up and pulled the front of her shirt closed. The fierce blush spreading from her face to her neck only enraged me more at James' actions.
"Is something wrong, sir?" James asked with a cocky smile.
"You know exactly what's wrong," I snapped, stopping abruptly in front of him. "Is it physically impossible for you to follow simple instructions? I told you that her shirt is not to uncover her chest. The camera is only supposed to catch a hint of what's underneath. That's what a 'no nudity clause' means."
"Just going for realism, Mr. Cullen," James nearly sneered at me. "No man is going to fuck his wife on a kitchen table and carefully rip her shirt apart so that her tits are covered."
"Isabella, go change so we can do this scene again and do it right," I said, attempting to calm my voice as I spoke to her, but my glare never left James.
Isabella carefully slid off the table, clutching her shirt closed at her chest. I felt her fingers discreetly brush the back of my hand and I shifted my eyes over to her, catching a small smile on her lips as she passed. I relaxed minimally with the knowledge that small gesture afforded me—she was okay.
That was until I heard a chuckle and my gaze returned to the ass in front of me. "Something funny, Kings?"
"Hilarious," he replied in a chortling tone. "For being such a hard ass, it's funny that you need a woman to validate your masculinity."
My fists clenched at my sides; I really wanted to knock that smirk right down his throat. It felt like liquid fire was pumping through my veins, but I needed to hold back and rein in my anger. "Get your goddamn pants on and get ready to redo this. And you will respect her," I snarled, turning to walk away.
"Well, would you look at that." I stopped at the sound of his voice and looked back to him, finding his gaze lowered to the front of his pants—and the slightly darkened fabric there. "Looks like the little lady was more into it than you thought, and I'd barely even touched her yet. Maybe a taste of a real man was what she needed to show her what she's missing at home."
His eyes bore directly into mine with his taunting tone and I felt my jaw clenching in response. "You watch your mouth. If you think I can't blacklist your ass so that you never work in this industry again, keep it up."
Our security man, Emmett, rushed over and stepped between us as I began inching forward again. "Edward, come on. Calm down. And Kings, go get changed."
James adjusted the collar of his shirt, never losing his smirk. "You know, I never could figure out what a hot little thing like that saw in an over-the-hill, washed up director. What a waste of a fine piece of ass."
Emmett's arm came abruptly across my chest, preventing me from following the prick as he walked off set, laughing. "Let it go. He's not worth it. You know better than that."
"I want every fucking phone in this place confiscated and checked," I growled through my teeth, stepping back sharply and shooting a lethal glare around the set. "And if I find any of that leaked anywhere on the internet, there will be hell to pay."
I listened as Emmett began following my instruction and made my way back to my chair, sitting down roughly. I'd dealt with my fair share of arrogant actors over the years, but James Kings took the fucking cake. And I couldn't remember ever having so much difficulty maintaining control of any of my shoots—until that one.
When I was initially approached with the project months earlier, only one name came to mind for the female lead—Isabella Swan. As with the rest of Hollywood, I had been closely watching her career since she made her first appearance in a small, independent film eight years earlier at the tender age of sixteen. Her powerful, emotion-filled performance as a trouble teen on the streets of LA, took the film festivals with a vengeance, and she soon had movie executives and directors alike tripping over themselves to acquire her talent. She was fresh-faced and raw, with that genuinely sweet appeal, a combination so rare to find, and everyone wanted her. I was no exception; all I needed was the perfect role for her to play.
No sooner did I have the script in my hand and I was on the phone with her agent, trying to set up a meeting to convince Isabella to audition. And the moment she stepped into my office that day, no amount of knowledge or preparation would have been enough for who I actually encountered.
Her soft, sweet voice greeted me as she entered, thanking me for taking the time to meet with her. The blush that colored her cheeks when I expressed my long-standing interest in her work, and my desire to work with her was adorable. And finally, her eyebrows rose in genuine surprise when I told her that she was the only one I could envision in that role.
Isabella was just as sweet, humble and intelligent as she'd seemed, without a single arrogant bone in her body. I was bowled over by the fact that Hollywood hadn't claimed another victim in her, as well as feeling an overwhelming sense of relief.
Despite her obvious talent and the diversity of parts she'd played thus far, there was some doubt among the other members of the casting crew about her. They were uncertain as to whether Isabella would be the right fit for the role as a wife of a gambling addict. However, one thing that had never failed me as a director was my gut, and I insisted on her audition. Once she slipped into character, she captivated every eye in the room and she nailed it effortlessly. There was no call back or other auditions needed; it was unanimously agreed that she was it.
From the moment I met her, I couldn't get her out of my head, and more than on a professional level. At thirty-seven, I had never been so instantly attracted to any woman, let alone an actress I was working with, and one thirteen years my junior at that. I knew it was insane, as we'd only been in each other's company for a total of a few hours and our conversations were limited to business, but I couldn't seem to help myself.
One knock on my office door during pre-production changed everything.
Isabella peeked in nervously and asked if I had a moment. I was just wrapping up a phone call and nodded, waving her inside. She sighed heavily and entered, closing the door behind her and waiting until I hung up to begin speaking.
"Mr. Cullen, I know I really shouldn't say anything and it's probably a million miles over the line," Isabella murmured softly, her eyes lowered and her teeth tugging at her bottom lip. "And I understand completely if you told me I'm out of my league."
My brow tightened as I gazed at her; she seemed scared even to be speaking to me. "What is it?"
Her eyes lifted and shoulders straighten, taking a deep breath. "We were just doing a run through for the love scene, and it just doesn't seem to fit."
I stood from my chair and walked around my desk, leaning back against it on the other side. Although I shouldn't have expected anything less than complete professionalism to bring her there, I couldn't help the twinge of disappointment. Once again, my desire for her took over my logical mind, even if only for a fraction of a second. "What's wrong with it?"
Isabella's hand ran into her hair, holding it at the back of her head for a moment before releasing it. "It's just that, she's angry and hurt, and it's like he completely disregards her pushing him away and... does that. It's almost like he's... raping his own wife. Look."
I watched as she crossed the room to stand beside me, pointing to the part of the script in her hand. I carefully read over the dialogue and the sequence of events on the typed page, envisioning the scene in my head and quickly saw that she was absolutely right. Looking back to her, I asked, "So, what do you suggest?"
Isabella's eyes widened as she looked up at me, blinking several times in obvious disbelief. "Really? You want my opinion?"
"Isabella," I replied, setting the script on my desk and turning to face her. "I'm sure you know that one scene can make or break any movie. And if my actors feel that something is wrong or even slightly off, they are the ones that know the characters more than anyone else on set. So something needs to change, or it will affect their performance and that will show on film."
"Well, James didn't think anything was wrong," she whispered shyly, and I internally tensed. Of course, he wouldn't. "But I don't think he should be the one to kiss her and push her down onto the table. It doesn't feel consensual, because she's still fighting him off. She should initiate the first kiss."
I nodded slowly, absorbing every word she spoke. "Show me."
Isabella's body stiffened and I realized too late my inappropriateness, bordering on sexual harassment. I expected her to bolt from my office, press charges and the career I'd worked so hard for would be over. Yet, she didn't run; she didn't even move for several excruciating moments as her eyes locked on me, until she finally whispered, "Okay."
I swallowed hard to mask my shock as she came to stand in front of me, taking hold of my arms and reversing our positions. She brought my hands behind her back, pinning hers there, and leaned against the edge of my desk.
As her body began wriggling in my hold, I closed my eyes and rested my forehead against hers. Partially because it was in the script, but also in response to the effect the movement was having on me. She recited the lines from the scene and unexpectedly wrenched her wrist from my grip and clenched her fingers tightly in my hair at the back of my head.
"You're as good as dead!" she said, immediately slipping into her character. Her breath was choppy, her eyes wide and fire burned behind them.
Before I could even take a breath, she pulled my lips to hers roughly, arching her back to guide my body with hers onto the surface of my desk and knocking the keyboard on the other side to the floor. We slowly parted and her eyes remained closed, her hand never leaving my hair.
"See. She wants it as much as he does," she said through heavy pants, finally looking up to me, and I got lost in those beautiful, brown eyes of hers. I didn't move, but neither did she, and I felt her fingers loosen their tight grip and her nails gently caressed my scalp. The fire I found earlier still simmered behind her darkened gaze. "Should we be doing this?"
"Most definitely not," I sighed, closing my eyes and swallowing hard, but still not shifting so much as a single muscle.
"Would you fire me if we did?" she asked, her other hand taking hold of my shoulder.
"No," I whispered and our lips met again, desperate but tender—definitely not the kiss from the scene. Her arms clung around me as a soft whimper emanated from her and I lifted her to sit up, embracing her tightly around the waist.
All thoughts of crossing a line I never had before, or how wrong it was to enjoy the feel of her lips and body against mine, were completely forgotten in that moment. There was no age difference or looming work environment. We were just a man and a woman, desperately seeking each other's touch.
A sharp knock on my door was the proverbial pin bursting our bubble and dragging us back to reality.
"Sir, you're needed on the set," the voice of one of the stagehands echoed through to us as we both struggled to regain our composure, but her arms stayed in place, even pulling me closer.
"Yeah, I'll be right there," I replied in as calm of a voice as I could muster. My palms lowered to rest on the desk on either side of her hips and attempted to back away. Her eyes opened suddenly to look at me, shaking her head.
"Even if you want to fire me now, I'm not sorry," she murmured, her legs hooking around mine. Her statement took me by surprise, as did the tone in which she spoke. The soft, shy voice she'd entered the room with had melded into something entirely different; more sultry and breathy. "I don't sleep around for parts and I never wanted to give you that impression. But I have wanted that since before my audition."
"I'm not firing you," I replied as her forehead rested against mine and I gently lifted her off the desk to set her feet on the floor. The desire and longing behind her words was unmistakable and comparable to my own—and it blew me away. "But we will need to talk more later."
Isabella's eyes closed and her lips pressed to a thin line, giving a defeated nod. "I know."
I could hear the embarrassment lacing her voice and I lifted my hand to rest gently against her cheek, brushing a soft kiss to her lips. "I've wanted that, too."
That evening, we went to dinner together to talk, and that was all it took to seal everything for both of us. We sat for hours at my house afterward, talking over a bottle of wine. We never ran out of things to say or even hit a single lull in conversation, our bodies inching closer all night until she was pressed against my side with my arm around her. She kissed me without nervousness or hesitation, returning every ounce of passion I gave. We made love for the first time right there on that couch and we hadn't spent a single night apart since.
I stared down at the band encircling the third finger of my left hand, spinning it slowly with my thumb. One night, about a week and a half into our relationship, we were lying in my bed and I asked her to marry me on a whim. I knew from that first night together that she was it for me, but I was stunned speechless when she emphatically accepted. She giggled adorably at my reaction to her response, but nevertheless, we flew to Vegas the next day and were bonded together, for better or worse.
I'd never once regretted our actions in the three months since that night, but after that evening's shoot, I was beginning to worry that perhaps, she might be starting to. Everything about our relationship had been so based on impulse, I feared that the excitement of it all was starting to wear off for her. That she might be realizing that she'd made a big mistake, and was seeing more and more that I was too old for her. I was pushing forty, after all, and she wasn't even halfway through her twenties yet.
A hand on my shoulder and a heavy stack of paper falling into my lap pulled me from my thoughts, and I looked up to the beautiful face of my wife smiling down at me.
Isabella leaned down close to my ear, as if asking me a question about the script. Even though the state of our relationship was no secret, we still kept things as impersonal and professional as possible on the set. "The girls told me what James said after I left. Are you okay?"
I simply nodded, knowing my voice would give away every thought and emotion coursing through me at that moment if I tried to speak.
Her fingers gave my shoulder a subtle squeeze and I looked over to her. "You're lying," she mouthed and moved closer to my ear again. "Just remember, I'm thinking of you and that desk in your office the whole time."
I closed my eyes briefly at the sultry tone of her whisper before she straightened and began walking away to return to the set. My gaze ran along the length of her slender legs, watching the gentle sway of her hips as she moved, and finally meeting hers as she gave me one last glance over her shoulder. She smiled as the robe dropped from her body, pooling around her feet, before she made her way back toward the kitchen table.
I knew that look as no one else there did, since it was usually reserved for the privacy of our home. She was mine. Mine. I did my best to keep in mind that it was me that she'd go home with later.
James walked back onto the set, but not before he sent me a smirk as he passed. I growled under my breath, but managed to hold myself together. My wife, I reminded myself. She was my wife.
"Where we starting from, boss?" James asked, his hand on her hip. Fuck. She stepped away from him, moving toward the stove. "Maybe just before penetration." His suggestion had every muscle in my body tensing, ready to defend and pounce.
Emmett hissed from behind me, clamping a hand on my shoulder. I hadn't even realized I had risen to my feet. The man knew how to push my buttons. Isabella rolled her eyes and used her script to swat James the back of his head. "From the slap sounds like a better idea to me," she said with a hiss.
The cocky shit's smirk remained in place. "I knew you liked it rough."
"All right!" I said, loud enough to get everybody's attention. "From the top!" There was a collective groan from everyone on set, but a smile appeared on my wife's sweet face.
I was positive that I wasn't the only one that would take great pleasure from James' pain. Jessica from makeup moved toward Isabella, cursing under her breath. "I missed one, honey."
Isabella merely nodded, closing her eyes for a moment as Jessica applied makeup to her thigh. As Isabella concentrated, murmuring her lines, Jessica knelt to work. There was visible marks on her and that only made my blood boil further. James smirked and wiggled his eyebrows toward them, earning a glare from both women.
"Remember," Emmett said, passing two phones to me. "Never to work with that asshole again."
"Trust me," I replied through gritted teeth. "I don't intend to. The next time a studio or producer insists, I'll walk away from the project."
"I heard he fucked Ms. Brighton six ways from Sunday for the part." Ms. Brighton was the film's executive producer.
"I wouldn't doubt it," I said, shaking my head. "Now shut up so I can concentrate on not killing the fucker."
Emmett smacked my shoulder, laughing. "Good thing you're my brother, or I'd kick your ass."
I looked over the two phones he confiscated and deleted several photos of Isabella and James in the love scene he ruined with his damn games. Placing the phones back in Emmett's outstretched palm, I looked him in the eye. "Tell them they're fired and escort them off the set."
He nodded, my tone clearly indicating I wasn't fucking around. When it came to keeping sets under wraps, I never did. And when it came to retaining my wife's modesty, I was brutal.
"Jessica!" I snarled. "Tell me she's ready." She cocked an eyebrow, no doubt sensing my barely reined in anger. I glared, trying not to meet Isabella's eyes. She loathed when I took my anger out on the crew. The one and only time we had a fight before work, I snapped at everybody. After that, she insisted that we work things out before setting foot on set.
"She's ready," Jessica replied in a tone that indicated that I was skating on thin ice. And not only with her. Finally, I looked up to meet Isabella's dark gaze. She mouthed, "you."
I nodded infinitesimally, acknowledging her words, but still doubted them. Though I worked hard to maintain my physique, James had about twenty pounds more of lean muscle, as well as being ten years younger than I was. It was the main reason for his box-office appeal; he looked good on the screen. Even when it was alongside my wife.
I shook my head; it was my turn to slip into my role as director. As long as Isabella was on the set, I found separating the two difficult, but manageable. Until we had to shoot a love scene. Thankfully, Siobhan Huntsman, her agent, wanted Isabella to maintain the title of America's Sweetheart, and insisted on the no nudity clause, despite the R rating for the film.
I wasn't sure I'd be able to maintain my professionalism if I had to watch the cocky prick grope her bare breast. Though I knew that someday one of her roles would call for nudity, it would not be on one of my sets.
A light supervisor nodded and Ben did the same, indicating that the sound and lights were ready. "Positions!" I cried out, leafing through the script Isabella had placed on my lap earlier. Among the pages was a note.
Always you. Only you. I am yours.
I sighed and took a few calming breaths. She always had that effect on me, and with only a few words, she achieved what an hour of meditation never accomplished. And it was my turn to be strong enough to get us through the situation. After post-production and the premiere, I would never have to set eyes on the scene again.
My anxiety diminished as I found Isabella's eyes on me. James talked to her, whispering, as a few crew members finished cleaning and reset the table. From any angle besides mine, it would've seemed as if Isabella listened to every word James said. However, she was looking past him and at me, over his shoulder.
I smirked and winked, earning a tiny indication of my effect on her. She licked her bottom lip, something she'd done countless times before I kissed her. I hummed in appreciation, but turned my attention back to the scene as a whole.
Isabella Swan-Cullen was my wife; all I had to do was remember that who was about to fake fuck the asshole was someone she pretended to be. She didn't love him, she loved me. And if the way she licked those delectable lips of hers told me anything, I'd say she thought of me and only me. Just as she said.
"Thirty seconds people," I hollered, popping my neck a few times to get the kinks out. Fuck, it'd been a long day. "We're starting from the top again!" The groans were minimal that time around, likely because they knew that I was too close to blowing up to complain.
I watched as Isabella fluffed her hair, straightened the button-down shirt as best she could. And as I watched her smooth the fabric over her creamy thighs, a tiny knowing smirk emerged from under the curtain of her hair. Coughing up to cover the groan that rumbled from my chest, I tried to ignore the tightening of my pants. If I didn't know any better, I'd say my sweet wife was teasing me. Nah, couldn't be.
I called for silence and a few moments later, for action. The scene went much better than the first few failed attempts. There was more anger in Isabella's words, the slap and behind her gorgeous dark eyes. When she pulled at his hair, I could hear his hiss that accompanied it.
And for a tiny, brief moment, Isabella looked at the camera, long enough to remind me who was on her mind. When she and James kissed, the moans that punctuated the action were not as loud as when I brushed my lips over hers. Though she said she was envisioning me in place of James, it was only my touch that elicited the richest sounds from her.
And as James' pants fell down to bare his ass, Isabella took advantage of the situation, grinding the heels of her feet in enough to make him cry out. It was her form of payback, and it reminded me not to piss her off. Strangely, James collapsed on her about fifteen seconds too soon. When she pulled her shirt completely closed and pushed him enough for him to stumble back, it seemed very real. His surprise by her action was clearly written on his face.
"I'm sorry," he repeated hoarsely, averting his eyes from her.
The curl of her lip was nearly a snarl. She glared at him, a look that would've withered the strongest of men. "That's not enough anymore," she whispered gravely. She sat up and adjusted her underwear. And as she rose to her feet, James tried to touch her again. Her hand slapped onto his chest as her head shook, preventing him from advancing.
"You knew what would happen if you didn't pay them off by the deadline," she said, her eyes on his. "And now you'll have to deal with the consequences. Get out!"
"Baby," he said as he attempted to touch her once again. "I never meant for you to be a part of this."
"You did when you offered me as collateral," she spat. "Get out!"
And as a few seconds passed, watching as the passion between them once again turned to anger, I called out, "Cut! Mark it." I smiled and removed my headphones, watching the scene one more time. I waved and confirmed my previous statement. "It's a print!"
The applause that followed was loud; the pat on my back from Emmett was welcomed. We were finally done. I watched as James bent to whisper something in Isabella's ear, causing her to roll her eyes. He fiddled with the hem of his shirt, as if to cover himself and asked her something again.
I put back on my earphones and listened in. "All I'm asking is for you not to say anything," James whispered.
"Unlike you," she said softly, "I don't get off on talking shit about anyone."
James grimaced and nodded. "Call me?"
"And as I told you before, I'm not interested."
"Even after that?" He seemed completely perplexed by her.
Her eyebrow raised, her eyes narrowed. "You came after two minutes of dry humping me," she said in a teasing tone. "Even if I wasn't happily married, I wouldn't call you."
That got his panties up in a bunch and had him glaring at her. I had heard enough, removing my headphones and called Emmett over, ready to have him step in, if necessary. I knew if I tried, I'd likely hit him, but my beautiful wife merely batted her lashes and looked as sweet as ever. James hissed and stomped off the set, snarling for Victoria to follow him.
Isabella was handed a robe by Jessica and together they seemed to laugh about something. She started to walk toward me, but only smiled at me softly. Her fingers brushed over mine, and I gently took her wrist, stopping her as she began moving past me. "Don't change. I'll be there in a few."
Isabella smirked and nodded, no doubt catching the fire blazing in my eyes as a result of everything I'd just witnessed and heard, and continued toward the door to head to her trailer.
After wrapping up a few last minute things, as well as enduring a final glare from James, I stormed off the set. I needed to see her and feel her in my arms, but I wasn't prepared for what I found waiting for me when I stepped inside that trailer.
My wife stood across the small room, having lost the robe, and exactly as I'd requested, still wearing that shirt and the tiny pair of panties. Her hand ran tantalizingly between the parted fabric and I noticed that she'd already exchanged the prop jewelry for her own wedding band and diamond ring I'd gotten her when we'd returned from Vegas. "Something like this, Mr. Cullen?"
A growl rumbled in my throat at the teasing tone of her voice and I flipped the lock on the door, and then stalked across the room toward her. My hand immediately drove into her hair and I sealed my lips feverishly over hers, pulling her body sharply against me and knocking the breath from her.
Her fingers dug into my back, reciprocating the same level of want and need, and hooking her leg around my hip. The friction between our bodies caused us both to gasp, parting our lips from the other's and our foreheads resting together. "What could he possibly give me that I don't already have in abundance with you?"
My arm held her tighter around the waist and I felt my forehead tighten against hers, my eyes pinching closed. "I don't know. Nothing. Everything. Who knows."
"Edward, look at me," she whispered, bringing one hand to rest on my face. I opened my eyes to meet those of my wife—my Bella. "I love you. I married and chose to spend the rest of my life with you. I want to be your wife and have your babies. And I really want my husband to take me to that table over there and fuck me."
My eyes widened as I gazed at her in disbelief, at the sudden shift in such a tender statement. My sweet Bella, who could barely swear without blushing when prompted by a script, held my gaze without even blinking once, nearly scalding me with their intensity. Her lips captured mine heatedly again as her arms slid around my neck, hoisting herself up to wrap her legs tightly around my waist.
Bella's teeth dragged along my bottom lip as she pulled away, tracing her nails along the back of my neck. "Kinda like I've been envisioning all night."
My hold tightened around her as I carried her across the room, kissing her with a moan when her hips rolled forward against my already straining erection. When my thighs hit the edge of the table, her arms released me and she laid back on the surface, smirking as it caused her shirt to fall away from her body and revealing her breasts. I quickly discarded mine and lowered myself onto her, anxious to feel that soft skin against me. "You enjoyed teasing me tonight, didn't you?"
"As a matter of fact, I did," Bella whispered, tilting her head back as my lips moved along her neck to her chest. A sharp breath escaped her when my teeth grazed her nipple and her back arched toward me, her fingers clenching in my hair. "I wanted to see that hunger and need for me in your eyes. I needed it, to have the vision perfect in my head. Since we got interrupted last time."
"And did it work?" I asked in a rough, husky tone, continuing down her body until I hooked my thumbs under the thin straps of her panties to lower them down her legs.
"Do you think this was for him?" she countered, bringing her fingers between her legs to massage the slickened skin there. I felt the possessive growl rumble in my chest as my lips sealed to her inner thigh, knowing damn well it would leave a mark. Her other hand moved to run gently through my hair, while her voice lost none of its conviction. "Only you, baby. Remember? I would only change one thing."
My eyes rose abruptly to her and she began sitting up, taking my face between her hands and bringing my lips to hers firmly. She slid off the table, tracing her fingertips along my jaw as we parted and I gazed down into her darkened eyes. "What's that?"
The hint of a smirk touched her lips as she shed the shirt from her shoulders, kissing me once more before turning around and bending forward onto the table. "Any questions, my love?"
Bella gazed over her shoulder at me tauntingly, making no secret of how turned on she was by our exchange as she spread her legs wider and begged me with her eyes. I wasted no time in unfastening my belt and pants, shoving them down to fall at my feet with my boxers. Her hands grasped the edge of the table while mine took hold of her hips, positioning myself behind her and entering her in one fluid motion.
Her sharp intake of breath at my sudden movement had me worried for an instant that I'd hurt her. I'd never been that sexually aggressive with her, and even at her height of five-foot-seven, she was still petite in comparison to my own six-foot-two. Yet, when that gasp was followed by the rolling back of her hips and a groan that reverberated through me as well, my body shifted to autopilot.
I began thrusting against her and her breasts pressed firmly to the tabletop, her lip pinched tightly between her teeth. Soft, low grunts left her each time my hips met hers until her fists were balled on either side of her head, but she kept moving back against me, driving me deeper inside her each time. I was seeing a side of my sweet wife that I hadn't even gotten a glimpse of during our, albeit brief, relationship, and it was a heady, intoxicating feeling.
My hands gripped her waist, holding her body still as I increased the speed and force of my hips at her breathy requests. All sound ceased from her momentarily and every muscle in her body tensed, and it felt exquisite beneath my touch and around my cock. Finally, her breath released from her body with an exclaimed "Oh God, Edward, yes!"
There was no way anyone within a fifty-yard radius of that trailer didn't hear that, and for once, I didn't care. I wanted them to hear me fucking my wife and her crying out in pleasure as I did. For that cocky bastard to hear my name moaned from between her lips, and for myself, the lust and desire lacing every sound she made. That I was the man she needed and wanted, more than simple words could express.
Bella's hand suddenly reached back for mine on her hips as her breaths became staggered, digging her nails into the skin of my wrist. The sharp pinch caused my muscles to tense and the pit of my stomach to coil, and I knew I wouldn't last much longer. I leaned forward to rest my chest against her back and slid my hand beneath her, my fingers caressing between her legs—I wanted to feel her come undone beneath me one more time.
"Oh shit, baby," she panted heavily, her arm rising to reach behind my neck as my lips brushed the shell of her ear. Her head leaned back against my shoulder with parted lips and I could feel her body begin to shudder. She'd never orgasmed twice in a single instance of our lovemaking, or even in such quick succession of the other. And the thought of her building up again so soon was more of a turn on than I thought possible.
"Fuck, Bella," I groaned, burying my face in the crook of her neck when I felt her clench around me, spurring my release.
Bella's fingers tightened in my hair as I thrust deep inside her, gradually loosening when my movements began to slow with my ebbing orgasm until I collapsed heavily against her back. Her touch became gentle again as they ran though the strands lightly, both of us struggling for breath. Turning her face toward me, she brushed her lips softly against my temple and whispered, "I love you."
I pinched my eyes closed and kissed along her collarbone as the full weight of what just happened settled into my clearing head. I had just ravaged my wife's body and taken her in a fit of fear and jealousy, feeling the need to prove that I was still enough of a man for her. Sliding my other arm around her waist, I lifted her from the surface of the table to stand with me and I hugged her tightly. "I love you, too."
Bella turned in my arms to face me, her hands coming to rest on my shoulders and lightly running over my skin. I felt her body slide up mine as she kissed me gently and rested her forehead against mine. "I wanted it, Edward."
I opened my eyes to look at her and her arms locked around my neck, pressing her body more firmly to me. My hands ran over the thin sheen of perspiration lining her back and I kissed her lovingly. "I know. I just-"
Bella halted my statement by placing her fingertips against my lips and shook her head. "I wanted it. Making love with you is amazing, but sometimes, a woman just needs to feel her man claim what's his. I've never felt undesirable with you, but when you just came in here with that look in your eyes … it was like I was the sexiest thing you'd ever seen and you couldn't wait to have me. You couldn't get enough of me and that was a major turn on."
"Bella," I whispered, cupping her face with my hand and kissing her gently. "You are the sexiest thing I've ever seen, and I could never get enough of you."
Her breasts pressed more firmly against my chest as she nuzzled her nose with mine in an affectionate gesture before sealing my mouth in a heated kiss. I lifted her to sit on the table again, feeling the tension slowly dissipating from my shoulders as I melted against her, standing between her legs as her teeth dragged along my bottom lip.
I smirked, the hand resting on the small of her back sliding down to squeeze her ass while pulling her closer to me. "Well, now I know how to get you to swear without blushing."
Bella's hand lightly slapped my shoulder and we both laughed, but as I pulled away, I saw the coloring of her cheeks darkening. A comfortable silence settled between us, staring into each other's eyes and my fingers caressing her cheek until she lightly bit her lip. "So, I was thinking. Since the shoot is over now and I don't have anything else lined up for a while. Maybe I could 'forget' to make an appointment for another shot?"
My eyes widened a little at her statement, completely taken off-guard by the sudden shift in the mood of the room. Before we'd even gotten married, we had a long talk about all the things we wanted. One thing that we'd resolutely been on the same page about was children. Bella was coming to the age that having a baby had become something she thought about from time to time, wanting to be a young mom. And I had to face it, I was pushing forty, and starting a family in short order was important to me. Even with my demanding career, and hers as well, we both wanted to be involved parents.
Yet, while I knew the discussion would arise again soon, I definitely wasn't expecting it to within an hour of wrapping the final scene.
Bella lifted a brow at me with my extended silence, chuckling nervously. "Have you changed your mind about this?"
Her question snapped me out of my stupor and I blinked repeatedly, shaking my head. "No, not at all. But how long before your next project starts?"
"I turned down the role," she replied softly, her eyes locking with my stunned gaze. She'd said nothing to me about this. "I wanted to surprise you. After we came back from Vegas, I called Siobhan and told her that I needed some time off. And she said that the next film would set that back at least six months, and I thought that was too long to wait. Between that and promotions, we'd be waiting another year to have a honeymoon or start trying for a baby. So I backed out of the project, and nothing else lined up for at least eighteen months."
"Eighteen? Really?" I asked, genuinely surprised by her response. "You can walk away from it all just like that? I think I'd go crazy."
Bella slid off the table, grabbing her robe from the chair and wrapping it around herself. "Well, I wouldn't exactly say I'm walking away from it. I can still walk the red carpet with a baby bump. But yeah. At the end of the day, it's a job like any other. Some things are more important." She smiled as I pulled my pants up and fastened them, then slid her arms around my waist. "Like my gorgeous husband and the beautiful family we're going to make together. The chance to just be your wife, Bella, for a while. Giving us plenty of time to try and get pregnant, and also some with the baby after it's born, so I'm not popping one out like a woman in a rice field and going right back to work."
My brow creased as I stared at her in amazement. "You've put a lot of thought into this."
Bella gave me a quirky smile, lifting onto her toes to peck my lips lightly. "Well, when there's something I want, I give it everything I've got. And three months is a long time to think in detail."
"If you're ready then I have no problems with you missing that appointment," I said with a smile. Taking her face in my hands, I pressed my mouth over hers. After a few stirring moments, she pulled back and grinned.
"Any chance you'd like to practice again," she said, cocking her head to one side. "Before we leave the set?" I laughed and wiggled my eyebrows. As if I'd say no to her.
"Give me a few more minutes to recover," I replied with a chuckle, but she rolled her hips against me again and I groaned. "Or seconds."
She giggled and pulled my mouth to hers. "I'm wondering what your reaction will be once we have to sit and do the commentary for the DVD."
I stilled, my eyes widening as the fire in my blood heated up again. "Fuck," I hissed, scraping my teeth over her bottom lip. I had wanted to do that since I heard and watched her curse in her trailer earlier. "We better book a week-long vacation at some remote location." I groaned as her hands started to roam further down my chest.
"Why?" she asked breathlessly. She moaned as her head fell back, attempting to pull me closer.
I growled, "So no one will hear you screaming my name."