The Blackwell Lessons (18 page)

59

By the time we pull into the garage I’m so desperate for Marc that I almost can’t stand it.

Marc effortlessly parks the car, but as he turns the engine off his eyes close and he lets out a low moan.

‘You are fucking irresistible.’ His hands go to my hips and he lifts me up and down on his lap. ‘Oh Sophia. Oh yes. Yes. Yes!’

I move against him over and over, my arms around his neck so I can pull him really deep inside me.

I moan and throw my head back, my hair tumbling over the steering wheel.

‘Marc,’ I murmur, as we move together on the leather seat. ‘Oh god Marc. Oh god.’

Our hips meet over and over again as we get into a rhythm that rubs me in all the right places.

Marc grabs my hair and holds it tight, watching me with stern eyes as he thrusts his hips.

I try to kiss him but he won’t let me, keeping a hold on me so I’m forced to look at him.

‘I want to see your face when you come,’ he breathes, thrusting into me and letting out long, low moans.

His hand is on my buttocks and he pushes me against him with every thrust, making sure that every part of me makes contact, inside and out.

‘Oh Marc. Oh god.’

Marc moves into me again and again, and I can’t hold back any more.

My orgasm is huge and overwhelming, knocking me back against the steering wheel and making me cry out.

Just as I think my orgasm is finishing, Marc pulls me back to him and slams his hips up between my legs one, two, three times …

‘Oh!
Oh
,’ I moan, as more waves of pleasure wash over me. I cling to Marc, my eyes closed, feeling my body overtaken with warmth.

I hear Marc’s breathing quicken in my ear, and with a low moan he comes too.

He buries his face into my hair. ‘Sophia. Oh god yes! Oh
yes
.’

His hips push hard between my legs and his hands grip my buttocks. Then he sinks back into the leather seat.

We cling to each other, breathing heavily, the world coming back into focus.

I let out a long breath. ‘I can’t believe we just did that in the car.’

‘You were safe. I would never have lost control. Although I’ll be the first to admit, you made it very difficult.’

‘I lost control though.’

‘Yes you did.’ Marc takes a strand of my hair and turns it in his fingers. ‘I love watching you lose control. And seeing you come. Even all this makeup can’t take away how beautiful you are when you come.’

My hand goes to my cheek. ‘You don’t like the makeup?’

‘I don’t mind it. But I prefer you without.’

‘You don’t think I look like a princess then?’ I ask, raising a teasing eyebrow. ‘That’s the name for me on set, you know. Princess Sophia.’

‘I can well believe it.’

‘But I don’t want to be a princess. I want to be like everyone else.’

‘That’s what makes you a princess. A real, humble, beautiful princess. And a lady.’ Marc’s hand hesitates on the car door handle. ‘Which I hope Leo Falkirk appreciated when he did that scene with you today.’

‘He did. He was the perfect gentleman. It’s just acting Marc. You know that. It doesn’t mean a thing.’

‘One thing’s for certain. I’ll be finding out the day you’re shooting the bedroom scene. And making sure I’m on set.’

‘Oh Marc. Come on. Aren’t we past this jealousy stuff?’

‘We’re past it, but that doesn’t mean I won’t take care of you. What kind of man wouldn’t be there to protect you?’

‘From what?’

‘From Leo taking things too far, for one.’

‘Marc. On a set full of people? That’s silly.’

‘Not that silly. I’ve been in this business a long time. It happens.’

The smile leaves my face. ‘You’re kidding me.’

‘No. I’m not. I’ve seen famous actors lose control on set. The camera keeps rolling and the actors win Oscars for their performances. And no one knows they weren’t really acting.’

‘Have you ever—’

‘Never.’

I shake my head. ‘Well Leo would never do that. And
I
would never … anyway, Leo is crazy in love with my best friend. And he’s done plenty of bedroom scenes before. I think he can control himself.’

‘I’m not so sure.’

‘Marc.
Come
on. Hey – haven’t we got our first scan soon? Shouldn’t you be thinking about that instead of worrying about stupid things? Please Marc. No more jealousy, okay?’

‘I’m not jealous. I’m protective. More of you now than ever. And to tell you the truth, I’m not looking forward to the scan.’

‘You’re not?’ I feel hurt spike my chest. ‘How come?’

‘Because if I feel this protective of you now, how the hell am I going to feel when I see a real-life picture of our baby?’

60

‘I wish you’d eaten some breakfast,’ says Marc, as I lie on the hospital bed. ‘You need to keep your strength up.’

A nurse is preparing the scanning equipment, and the female sonographer is waiting by the bed.

‘I’m just too nervous,’ I say. ‘And sick. I’ll eat something after the scan. I promise.’

The sonographer smiles. ‘Okay Mrs Blackwell. Would you mind lifting your t-shirt?’

I do, and the sonographer rubs cold gel on my tummy. Then she puts a plastic, white thing on my shiny skin. ‘Let’s get started.’

‘Can you see if it’s a boy or girl?’ I ask.

‘Not yet. Not until your next scan. We’re just going to do a few checks today to make sure the baby’s healthy.’

I tighten my grip on Marc’s hand.

As the sonographer moves the plastic thing around my belly, I notice white shadows appear on the TV hanging over the bed.

‘That’s your baby,’ says the sonographer, nodding at the screen.

‘Oh my god!’ I whisper in awe. ‘Oh Marc. Look!’

Marc’s beautiful, dark eyebrows furrow together. ‘Does everything look the way it should?’

The sonographer laughs. ‘Typical father question. Yes, Mr Blackwell. From what I can see here, you have a perfectly healthy baby in there. We’ll be able to see more on the next scan. But so far so good.’

‘So nothing to worry about?’ I squeak.

‘We never know for absolute certain of course,’ says the sonographer. ‘And there’s still the other scan. But I don’t think you have anything to worry about.’

Marc helps wipe the gel from my tummy and pulls my t-shirt down.

‘Happy?’ I ask, squeezing his hand.

‘Relieved.’

‘It’ll be fine Marc. I promise.’

‘Well we’ve got the first scan out of the way,’ says Marc. ‘What’s next on the emotional, calendar? Ah yes. Your bedroom scene with Leo Falkirk.’

‘I’m sorry. I know it’s going to be difficult. It’ll be difficult for me too.’

‘Why?’

‘Because I know you’ll hate it.’

‘That’s not the only reason. You’re nervous. Aren’t you? I can tell.’

‘Yes,’ I admit. ‘I’ve never done a bedroom scene on camera before. I suppose I still have inhibitions.’

‘Let’s go home. You can show me the script again.’

61

Back at the townhouse, Marc and I sit in the lounge while he looks over the script.

Marc dismisses Rodney for the day, telling him we’ll order takeout food for our evening meal.

I know as soon as Marc dismisses Rodney that he has something planned. Something to do with the script. And helping me with my inhibitions.

‘Okay.’ Marc smacks the script on his knee. ‘So this isn’t the usual bedroom scene. This is a little more animalistic – two people covered in dirt and bruises having sex on a hay bale.’

‘
Animalistic
?’

‘Can you think of a better word?’

‘What about … passionate?’

‘It’s more than passionate. The characters are both bruised and worn out. Rapunzel is bleeding. The hero could be killed soon, by Baz’s character, and he thinks, “If I’m going to die, we need to make love”.

‘She resists him. Tries to fight him off. But then she relents, knowing she loves him and wants him too.’ Marc raises a teasing eyebrow at me. ‘In other words, the scene is animalistic.’

‘Fine. We’ll go with your word.’

‘I’m glad to hear you’re finally doing what you’re told. Now. Let’s get you in costume.’

‘We don’t have any costumes here.’

‘Rapunzel wears rags in this scene. I’m sure we can construct something.’

‘Is that really necessary?’

‘Yes. It’s really necessary. You need to practise having your clothes torn off.’

I laugh. ‘Don’t you think we’ve practised that enough already?’

‘Go choose one of my shirts. I’ll get some scissors.’

‘We don’t have a hay bale,’ says Marc, leading me down into the basement car park. ‘But we do have a dungeon.’

‘We’re going to practise here?’ I say, following him down the steps.

‘Can you think of a better place? It’s dark. Gloomy. The perfect atmosphere don’t you think.’

‘I suppose.’

Marc’s carrying a handful of leather sofa cushions, and he drops them on the concrete floor, right by an oil stain.

‘They’re going to get filthy,’ I say.

‘So I’ll buy some more.’

‘It must be nice being a millionaire.’

‘I’m not a millionaire, Sophia. I’m a billionaire.’

I laugh. ‘Either way, it’s not good to waste things.’

‘These are leather cushions. Wipe clean. They may get a few scuff marks, but that just adds to their character.’

‘If you’re sure.’

‘I’m sure. I love seeing you in my clothes.’

I’m wearing one of Marc’s black shirts, which swamps me and comes to the middle of my thighs. On Marc’s insistence I’m wearing nothing underneath, because in the scene I’ll look naked.

Marc wears cargo trousers and an unbuttoned black shirt.

As I stand, bare feet on concrete, Marc turns me around and slashes the back of the shirt with sharp scissors.

‘Whoa!’ I say, as I hear cotton ripping.

‘Turn around.’

I do, and Marc artfully slashes the front of the shirt – just enough to reveal bare flesh but no x-rated parts.

‘You’re good at that,’ I remark. ‘Maybe you should have a career in sexy rag making.’

Marc stands back and looks me up and down. ‘Okay. We’ll go from the part where the prince is in manacles and you release him.’

‘It’ll be funny doing it that way around,’ I grin.

‘Won’t it just?’ Marc gives me that stomach melting smile of his.

‘Marc—’

‘We’re working. Time to be serious.’

He goes to stand by the rough brick wall and raises his hands over his head. ‘Shame there aren’t any real manacles down here,’ he says. ‘Maybe I should get some fitted.’

‘Maybe you should.’ I take a sharp intake of breath as I watch my handsome husband with his shirt undone, arms raised over his head, bare chest rising and falling.

‘Well. What are you waiting for Rapunzel?’ says Marc. ‘Come and rescue me.’

I move my body to stand more like the Rapunzel character – she’s sort of a tomboy; feisty and full of energy. Then I pretend to run through a doorway, out of breath, and desperately searching for the love of my life.

‘Prince Frederick!’ I gasp, throwing a hand to my chest. ‘Oh my god. What did they do to you?’

Marc’s stern, measured temperament vanishes, and he suddenly becomes the cocky, relaxed Prince Frederick, all flirty smiles and smouldering eyes. ‘Tortured me. It wasn’t my best day.’

‘Let me get you down.’ I run to Marc, moving my hands over his wrists, pretending to undo manacles.

Marc rubs his wrists and fixes me with playful eyes.

He is such an incredible actor. I’m just blown away by how he can transform like this.

‘Thank you, Princess.’

I take a step back. ‘You’re welcome.’

‘So tell me. Why did you rescue me?’

‘Because you’re the only one who can free this city.’

‘That’s the only reason?’ Marc takes a step forward.

‘We should go. We need to …’

Marc grabs my wrist. ‘Nothing to do with love then?’

I struggle against him. ‘I don’t love you.’

‘You know, your lips tremble when you’re lying.’ Marc presses his lips to mine, but I struggle away.

‘We need to go,’ I stammer. ‘We need to—’

But then Marc kisses me again and I fall silent.

We tear at each other’s clothes, gasping for breath as we rip away fabric.

Marc carries me to the cushions and lays me down, tearing my shirt clean off.

He simulates movement between my legs, kissing me passionately at the same time.

Oh my god. He is so incredible.

‘How are you staying in control?’ I say, my voice husky.

‘It’s difficult.’

‘You don’t have to. We don’t have to act any more.’

‘Thank god for that.’

Marc’s thumb moves in circles between my legs and I arch my back and throw my head back.

‘If Leo tries anything like this I will knock him out,’ Marc murmurs in my ear.

‘You’ll have to get in line. Jen will knock him out first. Then me – ee …
oooh
.’

Marc circles and circles and I move my hips to meet his hand, moaning and gasping.

‘And if he tries anything like
this
,’ says Marc, freeing himself from his cargo trousers. ‘I will kill him.’

He plunges inside me and I gasp.

‘Marc. Marc. Oh god, Marc.’

As he begins to move, all the warm good feelings build up and I grab his backside and pull him into me over and over again.

I see Marc’s eyes begin to close.

‘Sophia.
Sophia
,’ he groans as he moves with me. ‘I could watch you come all day.
All
day.’

When he says that I can’t hold back any more. I let my head fall back and moan as an orgasm flows through my body, pleasantly burning between my legs.

Marc keeps moving and moving, grabbing my backside and pulling me nearer.

‘God I want you. God!’ He squeezes his eyes shut and his jaw hardens as he pounds into me over and over again. ‘Sophia!’ He collapses on top of me and grabs my backside tight as he comes. Then he buries his head in my hair.

‘Just to make it absolutely clear,’ he whispers, ‘our rehearsal ended when I put my hand between your legs.’

‘I’m glad you cleared that up. I don’t want to get confused when I do it for real.’

‘Sophia!’ Marc jerks up and gives me a warning look.

I laugh. ‘Joking! Joking!’ I put my hand to his rough cheek. ‘You know I am.’

‘I know.’ Marc smiles. ‘But sometimes I like to be reminded.’