Chapter Three
Emily:
I’m practically hyperventilating as I scurry away from Luke’s trailer, my heart pounding frantically against my ribs.
My legs feel like jelly, and I’m not sure how I’m even managing to walk straight.
I can still feel the ghost of his lips on mine, the memory of his tongue in my mouth, the sensation of his mouth on my breast, nursing from me.
I can’t believe that just happened.
Luke Jackson. THE Luke Jackson. He kissed me. He nursed from me. He told me he’d been thinking about me, that he wanted me to have his baby.
It’s all too much to process, my mind reeling with a dizzying swirl of emotions and sensations. I can still taste him on my lips, can still feel the scrape of his stubble against my skin, can still feel the heat of his hands on my body.
I make it back to the wardrobe department, my cheeks still flushed, my body still humming with an intense, tingling energy.
I grab a bottle of water from the small fridge, my hands shaking as I twist off the cap and take a long drink.
The cool liquid does little to calm the fire that’s still burning inside me.
“Are you okay, Em?” asks Jessica, one of the other wardrobe assistants. She’s looking at me with a concerned expression, her head tilted to the side. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
Or been thoroughly kissed and ravished by one of the biggest movie stars in the world. But of course, I can’t say that. “I’m fine,” I manage to say, my voice a bit shaky. “Just... hot. The sun’s really beating down today.”
Jessica doesn’t look convinced, but she doesn’t push it. “Okay. Whatever you say,” she says, shrugging.
I slip away before she can ask any more questions, my mind still replaying everything that happened in Luke’s trailer. It feels like a dream. Like something out of one of my fantasies. But it wasn’t. It was real. It really happened.
And I’m wearing his shirt. The shirt he gave me after mine was soaked with milk... after he nursed from me.
I can’t stop the smile that spreads across my face, a secret, knowing smile that I can’t suppress. I look down at the black button-down, and it feels like a claim. Like he’s marked me as his.
The thought sends a rush of heat through me, and I press my thighs together, trying to quell the ache that’s building between them.
I need to see him. I need to be near him. It’s like an addiction, a craving that I can’t ignore. I know I should probably go back to the wardrobe department and actually do my job, but I can’t. My feet are already carrying me across the set, my eyes scanning the crowd for him.
And then I see him.
He’s standing in the middle of a scene, surrounded by cameras and crew members. He’s wearing the tuxedo I brought to him, the tailored black fabric clinging to his muscular frame. He looks devastatingly handsome, so much so that it takes my breath away.
But it’s not just his looks. It’s the way he carries himself, the confidence that radiates from him, the intensity in his blue eyes. He’s completely focused, completely in his element, and I can’t help but be mesmerized.
I find a spot near the edge of the set, trying to be inconspicuous, but my eyes are locked on him. I watch as he delivers his lines, his voice deep and commanding, then I watch as he moves, all fluid grace and raw power. He’s a force of nature, and I’m completely captivated.
But then he finishes his scene, and the director calls “Cut!” The tension breaks, and the crew starts bustling around, adjusting lights and moving cameras. Luke turns, and our eyes meet.
My heart does a little flip, and I can feel the blush creeping up my neck. But he doesn’t look away. He holds my gaze, a small, private smile playing on his lips. He’s looking at me like I’m the only person on the entire set, like I’m the only person who matters.
But then other women start gravitating towards him.
There’s Amanda from the makeup department, her blonde hair perfectly coiffed, her dress clinging to her curves.
There’s Samantha from the production team, her confidence radiating from her, her smile bright and engaging.
There’s even the leading actress, a stunningly beautiful woman named Clarissa, her eyes sparkling with interest.
They’re all drawn to him, like moths to a flame. And who can blame them? He’s Luke Jackson. He’s magnetic, charismatic, and devastatingly handsome. He could have any of them. Probably all of them, if he wanted.
But he’s not looking at them. He’s looking at me.
Even as they surround him, their voices a low murmur of compliments and flirtations, his eyes never leave mine. He nods, he smiles, he’s polite, but it’s all mechanical. His focus, his attention, it’s all on me.
I see him excuse himself, his movements fluid and graceful. He starts walking towards me, and the butterflies in my stomach go into overdrive. My heart is pounding so hard I’m surprised no one else can hear it.
“I’m finished on set for a while, sweetheart,” he says, grabbing my hand. “Let’s go back to my trailer.”
He begins pulling me towards his trailer, and I’m suddenly aware of multiple eyes on us. He’s not even trying to hide this. I see the jealous glares from the women, the shocked expressions from the crew. But he doesn’t seem to care.
“Luke, people are looking,” I whisper, my cheeks burning with a mixture of embarrassment and pride.
“Let them look,” he says, pulling me closer. “I want everyone to know you’re mine.”
The possessiveness in his tone sends a shiver down my spine. He’s not ashamed of me. He’s proud to be with me. The thought fills me with a giddy happiness that makes me feel like I’m floating.
We reach his trailer, and he pushes the door open, pulling me inside before closing it firmly behind us. The second the door clicks shut, he’s on me, his hands cupping my face, his lips crashing down on mine.
The kiss is hungry and demanding, full of a raw need that takes my breath away. His tongue slides against mine, and I moan into his mouth. I feel like I’m drowning in him, in the taste of him, in the feel of him.
He walks me backwards, our lips still fused together, until my back hits the wall of the trailer. He presses against me, his body hard and muscular, and I can feel his erection against my belly. He’s so much bigger than me, so much stronger, and my body can’t help but respond to that.
“I’ve been thinking about you all day,” he growls, his hands roaming down my body, cupping my breasts through his shirt. “Thinking about your sweet milk, about how good you tasted. I need more, Emily.”
His hands are already unbuttoning the shirt I’m wearing, his fingers fumbling with the buttons in his haste. The fabric parts, revealing my bare breasts, and he groans, his gaze fixed on them. They are heavy, and I can feel the familiar ache, the warmth that signals that I’m full again already.
“Luke,” I whisper, my hands tangling in his hair as he lowers his head to my breasts. “Please...”
His mouth closes over one of my nipples, and a jolt of pleasure shoots through me. I cry out, my back arching, pushing my breast further into his mouth.
He sucks gently at first, then with more urgency, and I can feel the milk flowing, can feel the relief as the pressure in my breast eases. He groans, the sound vibrating against my skin, and I can feel the vibration all the way down to my core.
“You taste so fucking good,” he murmurs, releasing my breast, only to move to the other one. “So sweet, so perfect.”
His words send a shiver down my spine. He’s so vocal, so unashamed of what he’s doing, of what he wants.
And it’s intoxicating. I’ve always dreamed I’d find a man like this, a man who takes what he wants without apology, a man who isn’t afraid to show his desire.
And the fact I happened to find that with Luke is my greatest fantasy.
My hands are in his hair, gripping the soft strands, holding him close. I never want this to end. I want to stay here in this trailer with him, with his mouth on me, drinking from me, forever.
But then his hands are on the button of my shorts, deftly undoing them and sliding them down my legs, along with my panties. I step out of them, kicking them aside, now completely naked in front of him. He leans back to look at me, his eyes dark with desire, taking in every inch of my body.
“So beautiful,” he says, his voice rough. “All of you.”
He lifts me effortlessly, and I wrap my legs around his waist, my arms around his neck.
He carries me over to the small couch, laying me down gently.
He’s still fully dressed in his tuxedo, and the sight of him so formally attired while I’m completely naked makes me feel more vulnerable, more exposed, and more aroused than I’ve ever felt in my life.
He kneels between my spread legs, his eyes feasting on me. I can feel myself blushing, my cheeks burning with a mixture of shyness and excitement. I’ve never been naked in front of a man before. But with Luke, it feels right. It feels natural.
“You’re so wet for me, aren’t you, sweetheart?” he asks, his fingers trailing up my inner thigh, making me shiver.
I can only nod, my breath hitching as his fingers get closer to where I ache the most.
“All this for me?” he murmurs, his fingers brushing against my folds. “All this because I drank from your sweet tits?”
I whimper, my hips bucking up against his hand. “Yes,” I breathe. “All for you.”
A slow grin spreads across his face, and it makes my stomach flutter. “Such a good girl,” he says, his thumb finding my clit and rubbing gently.
He circles my clit slowly, teasingly, and I can feel the tension building, the pleasure coiling in my belly. My hips move of their own accord, rocking against his hand, seeking more friction, more pressure.
“You like that, don’t you?” he asks, his voice a low growl. “You like me touching you here.”
I nod, my hands gripping the cushions of the couch. “Yes,” I gasp. “I like it so much.”
He increases the pressure, his thumb moving faster, and I cry out, my back arching off the couch.
“Tell me what you want, Emily,” he commands, his other hand moving to my breasts, cupping them gently. “Tell me what you need.”
“I... I need...” I can’t form the words, my mind foggy with pleasure. All I can think about is him, about the way he’s touching me, about the way he’s looking at me.
“Look at me,” he orders, and my eyes flutter open to meet his. They’re dark, almost black with desire, and the intensity in them takes my breath away. “Tell me you want me to put a baby in you. Tell me you want to be mine.”
His words send a jolt of pleasure through me, and I can feel my orgasm building, the tension coiling in my belly, ready to snap.
“Yes,” I cry out. “Yes, Luke! I want it! I want you to put a baby in me! I want to be yours!”
“Good girl,” he growls, his thumb moving faster, harder. “That’s what I want to hear.”
And then I’m falling, my body convulsing as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over me. I cry out his name, my hands gripping the couch cushions, my hips bucking against his hand as my orgasm rips through me.
He doesn’t stop, his fingers continuing to stroke me, drawing out my pleasure until I’m spent. I collapse back against the couch, my chest heaving, my mind foggy with bliss.
He leans down, capturing my lips in a soft, gentle kiss. “You’re so beautiful when you come,” he murmurs, his tongue tracing my lips. “I could watch you do that all day.”
I can only moan in response, too exhausted, too sated to form words. He chuckles, and I feel my face heat in response.
“But the next time you come, it will be with me inside you, while I’m filling you with my seed.”
And with that, he gets up off the couch and begins to undress.