The first fingers of dawn are creeping through the kitchen window as you stretch and bend, warming your body for a run and you just know it’s going to be a scorcher later. Luckily, you’re not needed on set until after dark today for yet another night shoot so you’ll miss the worst of the heat for once. Your body clock, however, still went off nice and early this morning, waking you up and leaving you restless enough to want to get up and burn off some energy, thinking you’ll just take a nap later in the afternoon. You’re looking for your ipod in the mess that’s on the kitchen table when you hear shuffling footsteps coming down the hallway towards you and you look up to see Norman, face still crumpled from sleep, hair trying to leave his head in all directions, stifling a yawn as he comes into the kitchen. He physically gives a little jump when he realizes you’re there and you give him a big smile.
“Damn, I keep forgetting you’re here,” he says, his voice coming out raspy with sleep.
“Well at least you’re not naked this time,” you tell him and he chuckles. “I’m sorry, I’m sure they’ll find a place for me soon.”
“Nah, no problem. Happy to help out. We can’t have our newest cast member sleeping in her car, can we?”
“I didn’t wake you, did I?”
“Nope. Thirsty,” he mumbles, leaning past you to pull open the refrigerator and snag a bottle of Gatorade.
He’s close enough that you can smell the heat from his skin, the slight musk of the cologne he wears still lingering from the previous day and your mouth moistens slightly as his arm brushes yours. You learned pretty quick from your first meeting with him that Norman has no sense of anybody else’s personal space, instead of the handshake you had received from everyone else when you were introduced, he had immediately pulled you into a warm hug as his way of saying hello. With available housing severely lacking in the small town where you film, the production company had put out feelers for anybody willing to put you up until they could find you a place of your own. Starting to feel a little bit like the red-headed step-child that nobody wanted, you were eternally grateful if a little hesitant when Norman had agreed to let you stay with him. Not that you hadn’t shared with a guy before but never one you’d just met. After a brief phase of awkward adjustment to sharing a living space with a complete stranger, you both fell into a domestic routine that kind of surprised you. All you really knew about him before you met was what you had seen on tv or in the media but he surprised you by being so much more than the lovable goofball he was so often portrayed as. Instead you found a man with a sweet nature and a wickedly intelligent mind whose interests were so varied that he could make your head spin in the span of one conversation.
And try as you might to deny it, you knew that you were feeling more for him than you really should for somebody you had to work side by side with, day in and day out. You tried to keep yourself at a distance from him, always professional on set, but at home he would more often than not invite himself to join you after work to just hang out and unwind from the day, discussing filming and swapping stories, until you found yourself watching the hours go by until you could spend time with him again. You’re sure, at least you hope, that he has no idea what’s going on in your mind most of the time and that’s the way you plan on keeping it. This job is an amazing opportunity for you and you’re certainly not going to jeopardize it by some foolish crush on your leading man. You’re way more level-headed than that, you remind yourself as he leans back against the kitchen counter and cracks the seal on the bottle in his hand, the veins along his forearm standing out for a brief second and you feel your pulse quicken. He takes a long pull on the bottle, eyes half-closed, and you find yourself fascinated by the workings of his throat muscles as he swallows it down. He lowers it slowly, wiping the heel of his hand across his lips as he catches you watching him, looking you up and down like he’s just realized you’re dressed already.
“You going out for a run?” he asks and you blame your over-active imagination for thinking that his eyes linger for just a fraction too long on the bare skin of your thighs below your shorts.
“No, I thought I’d get up and dress like this so that you could chase me around the kitchen for a few hours, get some cardio in before we have to go to work,” you tell him with a sassy roll of your eyes as you go back to searching for your ipod.
“I could totally do that,” he whispers, his hands suddenly landing on your hips from behind, the weight of his body pressed to yours.
You jump at his touch, heart racing, and whirl in his grip to find yourself squashed between the firmness of the table against your ass and the more pleasant firmness of his body against yours.
“Ha ha, very funny,” you respond, pushing ineffectually against the warm skin of his abs.
“Oh, I’m deadly serious,” he tells you, blue eyes meeting yours with a mischievous glint. “Don’t think I don’t see the way you look at me all the time.”
You stammer something, trying to form a coherent sentence and failing miserably, feeling your skin prickle all over, both from the embarrassment and from the overwhelming nearness of him.
“But what you don’t know, is that I’m looking at you too,” he leans in to breathe against your ear. “I’m just a lot better at hiding it.”
He leans back again to look at your face and you try to get a handle on the runaway train full of thoughts that’s careening through your mind right now. Do it. Don’t do it. Bad idea. Good idea. Career. Damn he’s hot. Fuck!
“But,” he says, stepping back out of your space in the midst of your inner turmoil and raising his hands in a submissive gesture, “if I’ve read something wrong and you’d rather go for a run…”
It takes less than a second for your body to override your brain’s indecision as you reach out to take hold of his wrist and pull him back to you, noting the smug grin that’s quirking up the corner of his mouth before he tilts his head to kiss you. The roughness of his beard scratches at your face but the softness of his lips as they press against yours more than makes up for it, his kiss starting slow and almost reserved, his hands sliding up your arms to rest around your neck, his thumbs pressed gently under your jaw. You part your lips to him and he accepts the invitation, slowly sliding his tongue against yours, the tang of citrus from the Gatorade sharp against your tastebuds. Your hands rise and fall at your sides, wanting to touch him but you’re all too aware of his almost naked state and not sure where to place them. As his hands reach up to pull your hair loose from the ponytail you had tied for running, his fingers combing through your hair and wrapping it around his fist as he deepens your kiss, your hands move seemingly of their own volition, snaking out to slip around his waist, travelling up his spine and then back down, your fingertips dipping into the waistband of his boxer-briefs.
With one hand still pinned in your hair, pulling your head back to expose your neck, he runs his mouth down your throat in a series of nips and suck, licking at the sensitive skin covering your collarbone making you shudder beneath him. His other hand slides up under your tank top, caressing the slippery fabric of your sports bra until you can feel your nipples straining against the material, aching to feel his touch against your flesh. With a chuckle of delight against the base of your neck where he’s still covering your skin in drawn out kisses, he discovers that your bra is a front loader, his fingers slowly teasing down the short zipper and popping it open to take your breast in his hand. At the first touch of his roughened skin against your sensitive flesh, you let loose a small sigh of desire and want, his hand tightening at the sound to give you a massaging squeeze. The lower half of his body is arched into yours and you can feel his erection against you, a hardness that’s making you ache more than a little, and you slide a hand around from his back to palm him through his underwear, rubbing him firmly and being rewarded with a soft moan against your neck. He raises his head to look you firmly in the eye, a wide smile on his face.
“All this has got to go,” he tells you, waggling his fingers up and down your torso at your running outfit and then tugging on your tank top.
With a light laugh, you shrug out of your top and bra, Norman giving a low whistle of appreciation that makes you blush even harder, his hands taking the job of removing your shorts and panties for you in one sensual slide down over your hips and to the floor where you kick them aside, standing naked except for your running shoes before him. With his strong hands at your waist, he guides you into the corner of the kitchen where the two lengths of countertop intersect and boosts you up to sit on the cool, marble surface. His hands stroke along the curve of your hips and down along your thighs until he reaches your knees which he parts to slip his body between as he leans in to kiss you once more. Your arms lock loosely around his neck, one hand stroking the soft mess of his hair as his kisses move down your neck and across your chest, his tongue flicking at your nipples before descending to your stomach.
“Now, the key to good cardio,” he informs you between licks and sucks to the skin of your abdomen, “is to make sure you’re properly warmed up first, just to make sure everything goes smoothly once you get to the real heart-pumping stuff.”
You bite your lip at his emphasis on the word ‘pumping’, hands tightening into fists as he raises your knees to plant your feet, one on each work surface, opening you to him and giving your abdomen one last kiss as he takes his first taste of your pussy, the scratch of his stubble even more pronounced against your skin there but sending shivers of delight through you nonetheless. You anchor your feet more firmly, butt raising slightly off the counter beneath you, as he slips the heat of his tongue over your clit, teasing it with his tip and then licking it full force with it flat against you. Hands yanking in his hair, you moan with every touch he makes against you, feeling your thighs trembling from straining to push yourself even more open to him, craving more, wanting him to never stop. While his tongue is teasing your clit with a series of rolling strokes across it, you feel him trail his fingers up the inside of your thigh and then push them slowly into the slick wetness he’s created. You clench around him, feeling the thickness of his knuckles as he pushes as deep as he can, curling his fingers up to search for that little bundle of nerves that you know will make you dizzy if he hits it just right.
Your foot nearly slips from the countertop as he finds the right combo of tongue and fingers and your body lets loose underneath him, your breath panting from your lips as your orgasm burns throughout your insides and there’s nothing you can do but grip his head and ride it out. He teases you until your done with soft licks and strokes, waiting until he feels your body relax back down before he pulls away, moving immediately back up to take your lips in a more passionate kiss than the ones before and you can feel his urgency transmitted through his touch. As your body regains its equilibrium, you carefully lower your legs back down, letting some of the feeling come back while you continue to kiss him, tasting nothing but yourself on his lips and loving it, the thought of him with his tongue buried inside you making you ache to come again. With a gentle pressure against his chest, you back him away from you, taking time to admire the flush in his cheeks and the want on his face, as you steer him a few steps back and then stop. You give his crotch a pointed look and then raise an eyebrow at him, making him laugh before he strips out of his underwear, letting his cock free to stand hard and proud away from his body and you lick your lips at the sight.
With a firm hand on his chest, you have him sit on a kitchen chair, leaning over to taste his lips once more, his hands coming up to fondle your breasts, tweaking at your nipples until you giggle and straighten up.
“I’m ready for my workout,” you tell him, wetting your lips at the sight of his glistening cock just waiting for you to fuck it.
“Well, come on then,” he says hoarsely, reaching out his fingers to stroke against your wet pussy, “I think you’re definitely warmed up enough.”
You grab his hand, pulling his fingers from you, bending to suck them into your mouth, tongue swirling around them until his mouth opens in a guttural groan and you release him, turning to straddle his thighs, using his knees to leverage yourself as you lower yourself back towards his lap. His right hand comes to your back to steady you as his left grips firmly at his cock and guides it into you, your slick walls parting around his length until he’s filling you. Squeezing around him, your pussy twitching at the width of him opening you up, you start an experimental slide up and down, increasing your speed as you find your rhythm, his hips coming up to meet yours each time. His fingers are curled around your hips, digging gently into your flesh as you ride his cock faster, leaning forward so that his tip is slamming your g-spot with each thrust, loud gasps flying from your mouth. His hand comes up, grazing its way through the sweat slicking your spine to clasp over your shoulder, pressing you down to him with each thrust he makes up.
“Fuuuuck… yes… there,” you yell, releasing your grip from his knee with one hand to reach between you and rub furiously on your clit as he slams into you. “I’m going to…to… come…”
“Shiiit,” he moans behind you, thrusting harder for a second and then slamming back down, pulling you with him as he jerks inside you, his orgasm tripping into yours as your eyes close, your fingernails digging into his kneecaps until it’s over.
With a deep sigh you open your eyes, his hand softly stroking the skin on your back and he steadies you as you stand on slightly shaky legs, following you up to turn you and pull you into a warm embrace, the scent of sex and sweat mingling in the air around you. He pushes your damp hair back from your face, tucking it behind your ear, fingers tracing back over your cheekbone and then across your lips before he dips his head to kiss you softly and slowly, filling you with a different kind of warmth than that of pure lust.
“You know, Mika,” he says, pulling back and flicking his head to get his bangs out of his eyes, “working on the show is very demanding. I’m thinking that maybe you should do a lot more cardio to keep in shape.”
“Really?” you ask with a smile, hands stroking at his sides.
“Uh-huh, and if you like, I’d be more than willing to help you out with that, you know, for the sake of the show.”
“I think we could come to some arrangement,” you tell him, leaning into him to kiss him once more and thinking that you may never have to go running again.