When she’s gone, the world turns frigid.
I lean against the cold tile, even as I shake. Some part of me believes that the lower I can get my body temperature now, the longer I’ll be able to go before seeking out Christine again.
Wait, what am I thinking?
Christine can say whatever she wants, but Iwill notbe doing this again.
I...can’tlet myself do this again.
It’s too risky. Not to mentionhorrificallyembarrassing.
I wait until the hall is quiet and sneak out shortly after.
This was a onetime thing. A moment of weakness. Now I know what I’m up against, and I can plan accordingly.
I make a promise to myself as I lift my chin and stride back to set.
Never again.
CHAPTER
THIRTY-THREE
MYLO
Twenty-four hours later
Christine pinsme to a brick alley wall around the corner from the studio, where the afternoon sun casts us in inky shadow.
Her tongue slides down my throat, and I moan as relief floods my body. I need her grip bruising my arms, her weight against my chest, her touch on my cock.
Her sea salt taste sends me aching with thirst, and I’d sooner drink the whole ocean than have my fill of her.
When I tremble on the edge, she flips me around and presses my cheek against the rough brick, sliding her hand down my shorts and freeing my cock. She strokes with one hand and slides her fingers into my mouth with the other, sucking at the base of my neck and sending me pouring onto the gravel. She grinds against my ass, and I think I hear her cum just from that.
Then she’s gone.
Dazed and drained, I yank my shorts back into place and lean against the wall. With shaking hands, I take a hit from my vape—which had been my cover story to get out here to hide the throbbing bulge that showed too easily through my thin shorts.
Three and a half more days. A little over seventy-two hours. Then I can be on a plane, breathing blessedly filtered air, recovering what’s left of my dignity.
I will not be going to a heat center because I will not be going into heat. I’ll find a doctor in LA who’s willing to prescribe a higher suppressant dose; you can find a doctor in LA willing to prescribe anything. Then I’ll go camp out in Joshua Tree until I have myself under control.
I remain confident in my restraint through the rest of that day and a normal night of sleep.
As I arrive at the sound stage the next day, my confidence wobbles. Then crumbles. I barely make it through lunch, and I spend that break on my knees in Christine’s dressing room, eating her out and making a growing puddle on the towel thrown down just in time.
Fuck, she tastes incredible. I don’t know whether it’s her arousal or my drool that adds more to the fluids pooling on the leather and overflowing onto the towel.
We clean up in the nick of time, and I swear to myself (again) that I won’t make a habit of sneaking into Christine’s dressing room.
The next morning, all it takes is a look: eyes meeting on opposite sides of the breakfast buffet. My body flares with need, and she can tell. I follow her outside, and she pushes me to the back of the van I just arrived in, fucking me against the rough carpet until my exhausted cock can’t even twitch.
Christine saunters back into the warehouse, and it takes me a good five minutes before I can even move again. I make it inside just in time to avoid a reprimand from Gabriel, then havea pretty good day. Now that every whiff of Christine doesn’t set me off, I can actually enjoy myself.
Until dinner. I have to keep swallowing to stop my drool from overflowing, and it’s not because of the roasted turkey. As I flee craft services, I don’t make it to Christine’s dressing room; I duck to the back side of a set, between the scaffolding that holds up the sculpted interior of Electra’s space plane and the metal warehouse wall.
I can only lean against a steel I-beam, begging the metal to wick the heat from my skin as I tremble and whimper, cock fighting with my shorts.
