Page 5 of Shes my 1 Try

There’s so much more I want to say to her but don’t, and when she pronounces that she’s finished, I follow her from the room. I’d be lying if watching her walk ahead of me doesn’t make me want to grab her hand, shove her against the wall and take just one kiss. One taste. So I’ll know. When she looks over her shoulder at me, those eyes of hers boring into my very soul, I swear I see a whisper of a smile and her hips swaying a little more.

Is she teasing me?

Before I get a chance to do anything, we come out of the tight corridor and into a massive, open hangar-style building. Stages are set along one wall with props and lighting, as you might see on a movie set.

“You’re the one on the end,” she points and I follow her outstretched hand.

“Huh, not what I was expecting.” I stop in my tracks, casting my gaze over the cityscape background on my set.

“What, did you expect all the scenes to be on the footy field?” She quirks an eyebrow at me and I try to smile, but pain shoots up my face and I settle for a shrug.

“Well, yeah. I mean, we are footy players, after all.”

“So, let me guess. You thought this would be a shirt off, ball in hand, glistening, sweaty, ab-fest.” Her eyes scan me up and down as she says it, coming to a halt on where those very abs she was just talking about for a second are hidden beneath my shirt. “Speaking of, this will need to come off.”

“What?” She tugs at the shirt to emphasise her words. “I thought you meant it wasn’t going to be a glistening, sweaty, ab-fest.”

“It won’t be, because I’m going to highlight them to perfection,” she tuts, her hands reaching for the hem of my shirt and for the life of me. I don’t know why. I take a step back.

“Wait, I’m confused.”

“Clearly.”

She giggles, this cute, enticing sound, and I made her do it. Even if it was with my stupidity. I can’t remember the last time a woman’s laugh gave me a fucking hard-on. But here I am, rocking a fully-fledged boner from her laugh and I’m backing away from her touch.

“Hey, come back here. I need to get you ready for wardrobe.” She advances, her hands grabbing onto the hem of my shirt and pushing it up. “Oh…”

“I…shit,” I mutter, her eyes bouncing from my cock-tented pants, so close to her hand, up to my face and back again.

“Ah, maybe you should take the shirt off,” she says kind of breathlessly, and yet she doesn’t take her hands off my shirt.

“I…ah, I don’t mind. In fact, I’d prefer if you took it off.” Her face jolts up to mine, her pupils devouring the ocean colouring. Those full, glossy lips part and she sucks in a breath before she sinks her teeth into the bottom one. Fuck me if it isn’t the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.

“Hello? I’m looking for Asher Scott,” a booming voice calls out just across from us, and…shit, I don’t even know her name.

“Um, here,” she says, dropping my shirt and taking an exaggerated step away from me. “He’s over here.”

“God, finally. C’mon, we need to get you into wardrobe. We’re running so far behind.” Opening my mouth to ask Miss Makeup her name, I’m yanked forcibly away by a tall man, whose face doesn’t move an inch despite the annoyed huff he makes. “Come. On. Move it.”

“But…”

“You can flirt later, lover boy. Right now, we need to get you suited up.”

I’m pushed and pulled around, and finally tossed a pair of pants and a jacket. Ordered into a makeshift changing room and told to make it snappy. None of this has gone how I expected. Deluding myself into thinking this was going to be nothing more than a party, with a few snapshots taken, a weariness takes over. Shucking off my pants, thankfully my cock has decided to behave, I shimmy into the plaid, skinny ones.

“Oh, by the way, you’ll have to take your undies off for these pants. We don’t want any lines showing.”

“Fuck,” I hiss, my head flopping forward as I comply.

Zipping them up, I glance down at how tight they are, my cock easily defined. “Listen, we need to behave.”

“Sorry, did you say something?” The wardrobe guy says, his voice getting closer just as the curtain is ripped open. “Oh! Now that is going to get some tongues wagging.”

“Don’t you think they’re a bit…tight?” I back track, lowering my hands to cover myself. I’m all for flaunting what I’ve got, but if the pretty little makeup girl is still around; that’s gonna get uncomfortable, quick.

“Tight? Sweetheart, they’re perfect. And, might I add, sculpt that package perfectly.” His eyes dance from my cock, pressed against my thigh to my eyes, his twinkling with mischief. “And this will set everything off perfectly.”

He hands me a dusty-rose coloured jacket and nothing else. “Well, don’t just stand there, put it on.”

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