Page 46 of Green
10
Gemma
Ihad been working such long hours.
Fortunately.
If I didn’t have a job to throw myself into, I would probably have stayed at home, touching myself while thinking about that stiff one in Theo’s jeans 24/7. Every now and then, even when I was in the middle of a conversation with someone on the crew, or when I was in the zone, moving props around on set, I suddenly heard echoes of Theo groaning in the shower, fifteen minutes after seeing me in a towel.
That was a mistake. I shouldn’t have done that.
It was sexy as hell and made me feel a lot better after the vomiting incident, but it was still a huge mistake. It felt like everything was in slow motion while I walked down the hall and met his gaze and the way his mouth parted just made me feel so good and he looked so freaking hot standing there in his pajama pants. He had no idea that while he was jerking off in the shower I was in bed quietly devastating my clitoris with a vibrator, fantasizing about going into his room, pushing open the door to his bathroom and dropping my towel once he realized I was there, opening the steamed-up shower door and stepping inside, he still had one hand on his big hard cock and the other hand reached out to grab behind my neck to pull me in for a kiss but I smirked and pressed him back against the wall, slid down his body so he could feel my wet breasts against his skin until I kneeled down between his legs, took him in my mouth and gave him the blowjob of his life.
In my fantasy I was totally capable of giving him the blowjob of his life but in reality I was pretty convinced that he had gotten so many of those from so many beautiful women over the years that it would be impossible for me to top them. Especially given my very limited exposure to penises.
Which was why I kept reminding myself that Ben was the smart choice for me at this point.
Despite everything, it just wasn’t sitting right with me—neither the overt sexual tension nor the covert sexual fantasies with Theo.
It’s like gluten-free bread, or when Benedict Cumberbatch does an American accent. It should be the greatest thing in the world, the answer to our prayers, but it just felt wrong and made me cringe a little.
He had to go out of town for two weeks of meetings and press interviews because the line of high tech athletic wear had been so successful, but he left a Post-it on the fridge that said he really wanted to talk to me, so would I call when I was home, didn’t matter how late.
I texted him that I didn’t have time to talk, that I was too tired when I got home. It was true.
It was also true that a month earlier I would have called him anyway.
But three weeks of an independent film production schedule was exactly what I needed to avoid the inevitable disaster that would be a “talk” with Theo at that point. I missed him. Of course I missed him. I’d be on location for a week in Palm Desert, and I’d arranged to stay with Chloe and Ethan at their new place when I got back. Once production wrapped I’d have time to look for a new place. I’d have to rip off the bandage. I didn’t know any other way, and I was sure that Theo would understand why, eventually.
Once I had gone on location in Palm Desert, Theo had gotten home and gone nuts.
I had never received so many daily texts from him since I’d met him.
About the most trivial things, so many questions, but never the one I needed him to ask me, the one that would change everything.
Theo: I can’t find that bag of chia seeds from Costco.
Me: In the drawer with the million other little bags of chia seeds.
Theo: It’s not there I looked.
Me: Look again.
Theo: Found it. Thanks.
Theo: How’s the catering?
Me: Good.
Theo: How’s Ben?
I did not respond to that one.
Theo: Should I grow a mustache?
Theo: Unrelated question—do these jeans make me look fat?
(Image attachment of sleeping kitten in back pocket of jeans)
