A Life in Hollywood Ch. 14 - Scarlett Johansson and Elizabeth Olsen Part 2 (Avengers: Age of Ultron) (Patreon)

A Life in Hollywood

Chapter 14 - Scarlett Johansson and Elizabeth Olsen Part 2 (Avengers: Age of Ultron)

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The restaurant was a small Italian place just outside the lot gates, the kind of spot locals knew about but tourists never found. Elizabeth had picked it because it was close enough to walk to and quiet enough that no one would bother them. She wore a simple black dress that hugged her figure without trying too hard—fitted at the waist, flowing over the gentle curve of her hips, the hem stopping mid-thigh. The fabric was soft and clung lightly to the full swell of her tits and the round, firm shape of her ass when she moved. Her hair was down, loose waves framing her face, and she had on minimal makeup, just enough to make her eyes pop.

Osiah had changed into dark jeans and a fitted gray button-down, sleeves rolled to his elbows. He looked relaxed but still carried that quiet set authority.

They got a corner booth. The place smelled like garlic bread and red sauce, warm lighting from hanging lamps making everything feel intimate without being stuffy. Elizabeth slid in first, wincing a little as she favored her wrapped ankle.

“You sure you’re okay to walk on that?” Osiah asked as he sat across from her.

“It’s fine,” she said with a small smile. “The wrap helps, and the doctor said light activity is good. Plus… I wanted to do this.”

They ordered quickly—pasta for her, steak for him—and a bottle of red wine. The conversation started easy.

“So how’s it been running the extras on a film this big?” Elizabeth asked, twirling her fork in her spaghetti.

Osiah took a sip of wine. “Chaotic, but manageable. The scale is insane compared to the first Avengers. More people, more moving parts. But the background guys are solid once you talk to them like humans instead of props.”

Elizabeth nodded, eyes lighting up. “I noticed that. You’re really good with them. Most 2nd 2nds just bark orders. You actually make them feel part of it. I saw you with that one kid earlier—he went from nervous to locked in after you talked to him.”

Osiah shrugged, but the compliment landed. “They’re the ones selling the world. If they look fake, the whole shot falls apart. I just remind them it’s their city getting wrecked.”

They talked about the pace of filming. Elizabeth leaned in, glass in hand. “It’s moving fast. Joss is keeping things tight. We’ve got most of the big Sokovia stuff in the can already. My scenes with the team are mostly done too—thank God, because floating around on wires is exhausting.”

“You make it look effortless,” Osiah said. “That hand movement with the energy in the street scene? It felt real. Like it actually cost you something.”

Elizabeth’s cheeks warmed. “Thanks. I’m still figuring Wanda out. She’s quiet but powerful. I don’t want her to feel like just another superhero. I want her to feel… human.”

Osiah nodded. “You’re nailing it. The way you hold back until the moment you let go—it sells the power.”

Elizabeth’s smile widened, genuine and a little shy. She took another sip of wine, the red liquid catching the warm light of the hanging lamp above their booth. “Thanks. That means a lot, actually. Sometimes I worry I’m playing it too safe, you know? Like I’m still figuring out how much of Wanda is me and how much is just… the suit and the effects.”

“You’re not playing it safe,” Osiah said, leaning forward slightly, elbows on the table. “I’ve watched you on the monitors. That quiet intensity you bring to her—it’s what makes the power feel earned. Not just flashy. Real.”

They moved on to her next roles. Elizabeth’s eyes brightened as she talked about auditions coming up, her fork pausing mid-twirl in her pasta. “I’ve got a couple of things I’m reading for. One’s a smaller indie—really raw, emotional stuff. No capes, no powers. Just a woman trying to hold her life together after everything falls apart. The other is bigger, a period piece set in the 1950s. I want something that lets me disappear into the character, you know? Not just the Marvel schedule forever.”

Osiah listened, nodding slowly. “You’ll get them. You’ve got the range. The strength. People see it on set every day. Keep going after what feels right. You’re not just the witch in the suit—you’re the one who makes her matter. The one who makes the audience care.”

Elizabeth smiled, the kind that reached her eyes and softened her whole face. “That means a lot. Coming from you… you see more of the set than most people. You know what actually works, what feels real versus what’s just noise.”

Dinner flowed easily after that. They laughed about set stories—Elizabeth teasing him about how calm he stayed when an extra tripped over a cable during a reset the other day, nearly taking out half the background. “You didn’t even flinch,” she said, grinning. “Just walked over, helped the guy up, and kept the whole thing moving like it was nothing.”

Osiah chuckled, cutting into his steak. “Years of practice. I once had a practical debris rig almost take out a whole craft services table on a low-budget horror flick. Learned real quick that panicking only makes it worse. Better to just fix it and keep rolling.”

The wine loosened them both, the conversation turning comfortable and easy, with an undercurrent of something warmer building between them. By the time the check came, the booth felt smaller, the air thicker. They paid and stepped out into the cool evening air, the lot lights glowing softly in the distance.

They walked back toward the trailers slowly, Elizabeth favoring her good leg, her hand brushing his arm once or twice as they talked about nothing and everything. The lot was quiet now, most of the crew gone for the night, the distant hum of generators the only sound besides their footsteps.

Outside her trailer door, she stopped and turned to him.

“Thanks for dinner,” she said softly, her voice a little lower than usual. “I had a really good time.”

Before he could answer, she stepped in, rising on her good toes, and kissed him. It started soft—tentative, almost testing—but the moment their lips met, the tension that had been building all day snapped. Osiah’s hand came up to her waist, steadying her, and the kiss deepened, hungry and urgent. Her fingers curled into his shirt, pulling him closer as their tongues slid together, the taste of wine and want mixing between them.

They stumbled inside her trailer, the door clicking shut behind them with a soft, final sound. Elizabeth’s hands were already tugging at his shirt buttons, impatient and eager, while Osiah backed her toward the bed, careful of her wrapped ankle. He lifted her gently onto the edge of the mattress, mindful of the injury, and dropped to his knees between her legs.

The first position was slow and careful. He pushed her dress up her thighs, kissing the soft skin on the inside of one as he slid her panties down her legs. When he entered her, it was deep but controlled, one hand braced beside her head on the bed, the other cupping her ass to keep her steady. Elizabeth gasped, her head falling back against the pillow, legs wrapping around his waist as best she could without straining her ankle.

“God… you feel so good,” she whispered, voice shaky and breathless.

Osiah moved in long, steady strokes, grinding deep, savoring the tight, wet heat of her. “So do you,” he murmured against her neck, lips brushing her skin. “Tight and wet… been thinking about this since I saw you watching us that night.”

Elizabeth moaned, her nails digging into his shoulders. Her tits bounced softly with each thrust, the dress still half on, pushed up around her waist, the fabric framing the full, heavy swell of her breasts. They stayed like that for long minutes, building heat together, until she came with a quiet, shuddering cry, her cunt pulsing around him in tight, rhythmic waves.

Osiah didn’t stop. He flipped her carefully onto her stomach for the second position, stacking pillows under her hips to keep pressure off her ankle. He took her from behind, slower this time, one hand on her lower back, the other reaching around to rub her clit in slow circles. Her ass rippled with every deep push, the wet sounds of her soaked pussy filling the trailer, soft and filthy.

“Fuck… Osiah,” she gasped, pushing back against him as much as she could. “Harder… I can take it. Please.”

He gave her what she wanted, hips snapping forward a little more firmly, the slap of flesh on flesh growing louder. Elizabeth’s tits pressed into the mattress, nipples dragging against the sheets as she moaned into the pillow, her voice muffled but needy.

That was when her phone rang on the nightstand, the screen lighting up with Scarlett’s name.

She froze for a second, body still trembling from the building pleasure, then reached for it with a shaky hand. “It’s… Scarlett,” she breathed, voice wrecked and uncertain.

Osiah didn’t slow down. He kept thrusting into her, deep and steady, his fingers still circling her clit. “Answer it,” he whispered, voice dark and filthy against her ear. “Let her hear what you sound like when you’re getting fucked.”

Elizabeth’s hand shook as she swiped to answer. “H-hey, Scarlett…”

Scarlett’s voice came through the speaker, low and knowing, a little breathy. “Hey, Liz. Just checking in… how’s that ankle? You sound… out of breath. Everything okay?”

Osiah thrust deep, grinding against her, his thick cock stretching her wide. Elizabeth bit back a moan, her free hand gripping the sheets. “Y-yeah… it’s fine. Just… resting it like you said.”

Scarlett laughed softly, the sound husky and warm. “Good. I’m in my trailer… relaxing too. Tell me how dinner went. Did he take good care of you?”

Elizabeth’s eyes fluttered as Osiah picked up the pace, his cock hitting deep with every stroke, the wet slap of their bodies filling the trailer. “He… he did. It was nice. Really nice.”

Scarlett’s breathing was getting heavier on the line, soft little sighs slipping through. “Mmm… I bet it was. Tell me more. What did you talk about? I want to hear every detail while you’re… relaxing.”

Osiah leaned down, lips brushing Elizabeth’s ear, his voice low and filthy. “Tell her how full your pussy feels right now. Tell her how hard I’m fucking you while you talk to her. Tell her your cunt is dripping down my balls.”

Elizabeth whimpered, trying to keep her voice steady even as Osiah drove into her again. “We… talked about the shoot. How fast it’s moving. My next roles… he was really encouraging…”

Scarlett moaned softly on the other end, the sound unmistakable and needy. “God, that’s hot. Keep going, Liz. Tell me how good it feels. I’m touching myself right now thinking about it… imagining how deep he’s buried inside you. Are you taking him nice and deep right now?”

Elizabeth’s cunt clenched hard around Osiah’s cock. “Scarlett… I can’t… I’m trying to—”

Osiah’s hand slid around to rub her clit in tight, relentless circles, his hips never slowing. “Tell her you’re cumming on my cock while she listens. Tell her how good it feels to get fucked while you talk to her.”

Elizabeth’s voice broke, turning into a shaky moan. “I’m… I’m close, Scarlett. He feels so good… I’m gonna cum…”

Scarlett’s breathing turned ragged on the line, the wet sounds of her own fingers clearly audible now. “Do it, Liz. Cum for him. Let me hear you. God, I’m so wet thinking about you taking him… I’m fingering myself so hard right now… my pussy is dripping just imagining his thick cock splitting you open…”

Elizabeth came hard, a choked moan escaping as her body shook, cunt pulsing and squeezing around Osiah in strong, rhythmic waves. Scarlett’s own cry followed a moment later, sharp and satisfied, her voice breaking into a long, trembling “Fuck… yes…” before the line went quiet.

Osiah didn’t stop. He fucked her through it, hips snapping forward with deep, controlled strokes, drawing out every last spasm until Elizabeth was whimpering, oversensitive and trembling beneath him. Then he flipped her carefully onto her back again for the third position, mindful of her wrapped ankle, spreading her legs wide as he drove back in deep.

Elizabeth came twice more—once from the new angle hitting her perfectly, her tits bouncing with every thrust, and again when Osiah’s fingers found her clit again, rubbing firm circles while he whispered filthy praise against her ear. “That’s it… cum on my cock again… such a good girl taking every inch while Scarlett is listening.”

Finally, he groaned low in his chest and filled her, thick spurts flooding deep inside as he ground against her, hips rolling to push every drop into her spasming cunt.

When he pulled out, he guided her head down gently, his voice rough but soft. “Clean me up.”

Elizabeth obeyed without hesitation, taking his cock into her mouth, licking every trace of their combined mess with soft, eager strokes—tongue swirling around the head, sucking gently along the shaft until he was clean and glistening only with her saliva.

They lay tangled together afterward, breathing hard, the trailer quiet except for the low hum of the air conditioner. Elizabeth’s head rested on Osiah’s chest, her wrapped ankle propped carefully on a pillow. Neither spoke for a long time. The kiss outside her door had led exactly where they both knew it would, but the reality of it still felt new and electric, the air between them warm and heavy with satisfaction.

Eventually Elizabeth lifted her head, a small, shy smile on her lips. “I… I don’t usually do this. Not like this.”

Osiah ran his fingers through her hair, calm as ever, his touch gentle. “Neither do I. Not on set. Not with someone I actually like talking to first.”

She laughed softly, the sound warm against his skin. “Good answer.”

They stayed like that until the night grew late, then Osiah helped her clean up, making sure she was comfortable with her ankle elevated before slipping out quietly. The walk back to his own trailer felt longer than usual, the memory of her body, her moans, and the way she had looked at him still fresh on his hands and in his mind.

The next days on set settled back into the familiar rhythm of production. Osiah threw himself into his 2nd 2nd AD work with the same steady focus he always had. The massive street battle sequence was the big push for the week, and he spent hours coordinating the background actors for the wide shots involving floating debris and panicked civilians.

“Remember—you’re not screaming in terror,” he told a cluster of thirty extras gathered near a fake storefront, his voice carrying just enough to reach them without shouting. “You’re annoyed. This is your city. These superheroes keep wrecking your commute. You’ve got places to be, kids to pick up, coffee getting cold. Sell the frustration. Eyes on each other, muttered complaints, maybe a glare at the sky when the rubble starts flying. Let’s make it feel real.”

He moved through the group with easy confidence, adjusting marks with quick, precise gestures—tapping a woman’s shoulder to shift her two feet left so she wouldn’t block the camera on Elizabeth’s upcoming beat, nudging a man’s stance so his body angled naturally toward the action instead of staring straight at the lens. He gave quiet notes as he went, keeping his tone conversational. “Less panic, more irritation—good, keep that shoulder tension.” “You’re late for work, not running from a monster.” “Eyes on your friend next to you, not the green screen.” The extras responded immediately, their movements tightening up under his direction. He kept the whole machine moving without raising his voice once, his headset crackling with updates from the 1st AD as he relayed calm instructions to the background captains.

When the first take rolled, Osiah stood off to the side, eyes scanning the frame like a hawk. One extra drifted too far left; he signaled the captain with a quick hand gesture and the man corrected it before the director even noticed. The take went clean. Osiah allowed himself a small nod of satisfaction as the crew reset for the next angle.

He stayed busy through the afternoon, repositioning groups for different camera setups, making sure the background reactions felt layered instead of uniform. During one reset he crouched beside a younger extra who looked nervous. “Hey, you’re doing fine. Just remember—you’re not an extra in a movie. You’re a guy whose lunch break just got ruined by giant robots. Think about that and let it show on your face. Small stuff. It reads.”

The kid nodded, visibly relaxing. “Thanks, man.”

Osiah gave him a quick clap on the shoulder and moved on.

Elizabeth returned to set a few days later, moving better but still careful with the ankle. She was able to shoot her scenes again, and Osiah made sure her blocking protected the injury—extra padding on the wire rig, a stool ready between takes so she could stay off her feet. He caught her eye during one reset and gave her a small, private smile. She returned it, cheeks coloring slightly as the memory of her trailer flashed between them.

Later that afternoon, during a brief lull, Osiah walked past her while she was reviewing sides with one of the script supervisors. He paused just long enough to say, “Looking strong out there. The ankle holding up okay?”

Elizabeth nodded, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Yeah. Thanks for making sure the blocking didn’t mess with it. I appreciate it.”

“Part of the job,” he replied easily, but his eyes lingered on her for a beat longer than necessary. “You’re moving well. Keep listening to it though. Don’t push too hard.”

She laughed softly. “I won’t. Promise.”

He gave her a quick nod and continued on, but the brief exchange left a quiet warmth in the air between them.

The rest of the week continued in that steady, focused rhythm. Osiah coordinated another large background push for a night exterior where the Avengers fought through a collapsing building. He spent the better part of an hour directing over a hundred extras to run, duck, and react realistically while practical debris rigs rained down around them.

“Background, on my mark,” he called into the walkie, voice steady. “When the wall comes down, you scatter—don’t clump. You’re trying to get out alive, not pose for the camera. Eyes forward, keep moving, sell the panic but stay out of the heroes’ sightlines.”

He moved through the crowd like a conductor, adjusting positions with quick touches and quiet words. “You—two feet right. Good. You’re shielding your friend; make it look protective.” “Less flailing, more purpose. You’re running for cover, not auditioning for a horror movie.” The extras listened, their energy sharpening under his calm direction. When the cameras rolled, the scene felt alive because the background felt alive.

Between takes he checked in with Elizabeth again, making sure she had water and a place to sit. “You good?” he asked quietly.

She nodded, wiping a bit of sweat from her brow. “Yeah. Better than I thought I’d be. Thanks for keeping an eye on the rigging for me.”

“Anytime,” he said, and meant it.

The days blurred together in the best way—long hours, constant resets, but the work felt solid. Osiah moved through it all with quiet competence, the kind that made the machine run smoother without anyone noticing how much he was doing behind the scenes.

Scarlett, meanwhile, was in her element. She threw herself into her action beats with ferocious energy, nailing a long take where Black Widow took down a group of Ultron sentries in a brutal hand-to-hand sequence. The tactical suit hugged every curve of her body like a second skin—strong shoulders rolling with each punch, narrow waist twisting fluidly, the full swell of her tits straining against the zipper with every sharp breath and impact. The powerful, rounded shape of her ass flexed and tightened visibly as she moved, the fabric stretching tight over the firm muscle when she launched into a spinning kick or dropped into a low sweep. Her red hair was pulled back tight into a practical ponytail, but strands escaped during the fight, sticking to her sweat-damp skin and framing her focused face.

The camera caught every precise strike, every flip, every calculated roll across the ground as she dispatched the sentries with ruthless efficiency. She drove an elbow into one sentry’s throat, the impact sharp and clean, then followed with a leg sweep that sent another crashing to the floor. A spinning kick caught the third across the chest, the force of it making her ass clench and her tits bounce heavily inside the suit as she landed and immediately flowed into the next move. The choreography was fast and brutal, but Scarlett made it look effortless, her body moving with the lethal grace that had defined Black Widow for years.

Between takes she was all business—checking the choreography notes on a tablet the stunt coordinator held out for her, adjusting the fit of her suit where it had ridden up slightly on her hips, wiping sweat from her brow with the back of her hand. She took a quick swig of water, breathing steady, then rolled her shoulders to keep the muscles loose.

“Again from the top,” the director called. “Scarlett, that kick was perfect—keep that energy.”

She nodded, already resetting her stance. “Got it. Let’s make the second sentry hit the ground harder on the sweep.”

The stunt team adjusted the rigs, and they ran the sequence again. Scarlett exploded into motion—elbow strike, leg sweep, spinning kick—her ass flexing powerfully as she pivoted, her tits pressing firmly against the tactical top with each forceful movement. Sweat glistened on her exposed collarbone and the tops of her breasts, the suit clinging even tighter now. When she finished the take, she stood with hands on her hips, chest rising and falling, a satisfied little nod to the stunt coordinator.

“Not bad,” she said, voice carrying just enough for the nearby crew to hear. “Let’s do one more where I add a follow-up punch after the kick. I think it reads better.”

The coordinator grinned. “You got it. Resetting now.”

As the crew prepared for the next take, Osiah walked past to reposition a group of background extras who had drifted too close to the fight zone. Scarlett caught his eye mid-stride. She shot him a quick, knowing look—eyes dark, lips curving into the faintest smirk—before she turned back to the fight coordinator as if nothing had happened. The look was brief, but it hit Osiah like a spark, tightening something low in his stomach. He kept moving, adjusting an extra’s mark with a calm word, but the memory of that smirk lingered.

The lot felt alive again with both women back in the mix, the production humming at full speed, the air thick with the smell of pyrotechnics and fresh paint. Scarlett powered through another take, this one involving a higher wire-assisted flip. She launched off a crumbling set piece, the suit pulling tight across her ass as she twisted mid-air, landing in a perfect roll that transitioned straight into a brutal elbow strike. Her tits bounced heavily with the impact as she came up fighting, the camera loving every controlled, powerful movement.

Between setups she stood off to the side, hands on her hips, catching her breath. A PA brought her a fresh towel and water. She wiped her face and neck, the towel coming away damp, then adjusted the zipper of her suit where it had pulled down slightly during the flip, giving a brief flash of cleavage before she zipped it back up.

“Looking strong,” the director called from video village. “That flip looked great on the monitor. Let’s try one more with a little more aggression on the final sentry.”

Scarlett gave a thumbs-up. “Aggression I can do. Just make sure the rig doesn’t snag on the suit again.”

She reset, rolled her shoulders, and launched into the sequence once more. The suit clung to every curve as she moved—ass flexing with each powerful step, tits straining against the fabric with every strike and roll. Sweat made the material gleam under the lights, highlighting the strong lines of her body. When she finished, she stood tall, breathing hard but smiling.

“Better?” she asked the director, wiping her brow again.

“Perfect. Print that one.”

Osiah, finishing his reset of the background, caught her eye again as he walked past. Scarlett’s smirk returned, quicker this time, her eyes flicking down his body for half a second before she turned back to the stunt team. The lot continued to hum around them, the production feeling sharper and more alive now that the key players were fully back in rhythm.

Later that week, the production shifted to a massive interior hangar set for a high-stakes evacuation sequence. Osiah was deep in his 2nd 2nd AD work again, coordinating over a hundred and fifty background actors who were supposed to be frantic SHIELD personnel trying to load civilians onto Quinjets while the base collapsed around them. The hangar was enormous, filled with practical smoke machines, flashing emergency lights, and the constant roar of simulated jet engines.

“Background, listen up,” Osiah said into his headset, voice calm but carrying. “This isn’t a drill. The roof is coming down. You’re not heroes—you’re scared people trying to get your families out alive. Move with purpose, but don’t run into each other. Help the person next to you if they fall. Make it feel chaotic but human.”

He walked the floor himself, adjusting positions with quick, precise gestures. To a group of extras near a mock Quinjet ramp he said, “You three—carry that ‘injured’ guy like you actually care if he makes it. Slow him down a bit; you’re not super soldiers.” To a cluster of “civilians” he added, “Kids first. You’re a mom—shield the little one with your body when the sparks fly. Sell the fear, but keep moving toward the ramp.”

One nervous extra kept freezing every time the pyrotechnics popped. Osiah crouched beside him for a moment. “Hey, breathe. The sparks are safe—they’re on a timer. Just react like it’s real. You’ve got a family waiting on that jet. Focus on them, not the lights. You got this.”

The kid nodded, visibly steadier. When the cameras rolled, the background came alive—people shouting, helping each other, ducking debris, the whole scene feeling urgent and desperate instead of staged.

Osiah stayed on the move, checking sightlines, signaling adjustments to the background captains, and making sure no one crossed into the heroes’ primary action zones. His headset crackled constantly with notes from the 1st AD, but he handled it all with the same even tone that kept the massive set from descending into chaos.

Elizabeth was finally cleared by the medical team to film more demanding scenes. The doctor had given her the green light for light wire work and moderate movement, as long as she didn’t push the ankle too hard. When she stepped back onto the set for a new sequence involving Wanda using her powers to hold up a collapsing corridor, the energy around her shifted. She looked focused and ready, her body moving with renewed confidence.

The scene was set in a massive practical corridor that the art department had built to look like it was falling apart—cracked concrete pillars, sparking wires, and large chunks of debris rigged to drop on cue. Elizabeth stood in the middle of the chaos in her Wanda costume, the dark fabric hugging her figure closely. The suit accentuated her lean but curved body—full, soft tits pressing against the textured material, her narrow waist flaring into wide hips, and the round, firm shape of her ass filling out the lower half with a powerful, feminine silhouette. Her red jacket flowed slightly as she moved, but the core suit clung to every line, highlighting the subtle muscle in her thighs and the soft bounce of her breasts when she shifted her stance.

Osiah watched from the sidelines as the cameras rolled. Elizabeth raised her hands, face showing the strain as she held the debris aloft with her energy. The subtle tension in her shoulders, the way her body braced, and the focused furrow in her brow sold the effort perfectly. Her tits rose and fell with each controlled breath, the fabric stretching across them as she poured power into the scene. Her ass tightened visibly when she planted her feet wider for balance, the suit pulling tight over the rounded curves.

“Hold it… hold it…” the director called from video village. “Elizabeth, give me a little more strain in the shoulders—yes, perfect. Now let one piece drop on three… two… one.”

On cue, a rigged chunk of concrete fell. Elizabeth reacted instantly, shifting her stance, her hips swaying slightly as she redirected the energy. The movement made her ass flex and her tits bounce softly inside the suit, the camera catching the raw physicality of the moment. She held the rest of the debris for a few more beats, face tight with concentration, before slowly lowering her hands as the scene wrapped.

The director yelled cut and gave her a thumbs-up from behind the monitors. “Great work, Elizabeth. That felt real. The strain read perfectly—raw, not overdone.”

She smiled, a little out of breath, wiping a strand of hair from her forehead. “Thanks. Felt good to push it again.”

Osiah walked over to reset the background near her mark, careful to keep his steps casual. He gave her a small, private smile. “Looking strong. Ankle holding up?”

Elizabeth nodded, cheeks coloring slightly under the lights. “Yeah. Feels good to be moving again. Thanks for making sure the blocking didn’t mess with it earlier. I know you were the one who suggested the extra padding on the wire rig.”

“Part of the job,” he replied, but his tone was warmer, the corner of his mouth lifting. “You nailed that strain in your face. Made the power feel like it actually costs you something. Not just magic—effort.”

She laughed softly, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “That’s what I was going for. It’s nice to hear it landed. Sometimes I worry I’m holding back too much, trying to make her look pretty instead of real.”

“You’re not,” Osiah said, glancing at the set as the crew reset. “The way you braced your whole body when the debris dropped—that read. It looked like it hurt. That’s what makes it believable.”

Elizabeth’s smile grew, a little more confident. “Thanks. I needed that. The ankle’s still a little tender, but I can feel the difference now that I’m allowed to move more. The doctor said moderate stuff is fine as long as I don’t twist it again.”

“Good. Listen to it,” he said, nodding toward the corridor set. “We’ve got a few more takes like this today. If you need a break or want me to adjust the extras so you have more room, just say the word.”

“I will,” she replied, her eyes meeting his for a beat longer than necessary. “Really. Thank you.”

Osiah gave her a quick nod before moving on to adjust the extras, but the brief exchange left a quiet spark in the air between them. The production rolled on, the days blending into long hours of filming, resets, and the constant low hum of a set that knew it was making something big.

As a small celebration after a particularly long day of successful takes, Scarlett texted Elizabeth late in the afternoon: “My trailer after wrap. Bring wine if you want. We deserve it. Just us girls… and maybe one more if he’s free.”

Elizabeth stared at the message for a long moment, thumb hovering over the screen. Her heart gave a little flutter. The memory of the dinner with Osiah, the kiss, the way he had fucked her so carefully yet so thoroughly in her trailer, still lingered warmly between her legs. And now Scarlett was inviting her over. “Just us girls… and maybe one more.” The implication was unmistakable. Elizabeth’s cheeks heated. She typed back a quick “I’ll be there” before she could overthink it, then set the phone down, pulse already quickening.

A few trailers away, Scarlett and Osiah were alone in her space. The day’s filming had wrapped, the lot outside growing quiet. Scarlett lounged on the bed in nothing but a loose robe, the front open just enough to show the inner curves of her tits. Osiah sat on the edge, still half-dressed, one hand resting on her bare thigh.

“You really think she’ll come?” Osiah asked, voice low, thumb stroking lazy circles on her skin.

Scarlett smiled, slow and wicked. “She will. I saw the way she looked at you after dinner. And after what she walked in on that night… she’s curious. Hungry. She just needs a little push.” She leaned in, kissing the corner of his mouth. “Besides, I told you I wanted her with us. Tonight feels right. We’ve all been circling each other long enough.”

Osiah’s hand slid higher, cupping her ass possessively. “You’re playing matchmaker and director at the same time. Dangerous combination.”

“Only because I know what I want,” Scarlett murmured, nipping at his lower lip. “And right now I want to watch you fuck her while I sit on your face. Or maybe let her ride you while I taste both of you. Either way, I want her moaning between us.”

Osiah chuckled darkly, squeezing her ass harder. “You’re filthy.”

“You love it,” she shot back, eyes gleaming. “And so will she.”

Elizabeth accepted the invitation, nerves and excitement twisting together in her stomach as she walked the short distance across the lot. She had changed into something simple but flattering—a soft sweater and jeans that hugged her hips and ass. Her mind raced with questions. Was this just a casual hangout? Or did Scarlett mean what the text hinted at? The memory of watching Osiah fuck Scarlett while she talked to her fiancé still burned hot in her thoughts, making her thighs press together as she approached the trailer door.

When she opened the door to Scarlett’s trailer that evening, she froze in the doorway.

Scarlett’s head was dangling off the edge of the bed, throat bulging visibly around Osiah’s thick cock as he fucked her face in slow, deep strokes. His hips rolled deliberately, the outline of his shaft clear in her throat with every push. Scarlett’s eyes were half-lidded in bliss, saliva dripping down her cheeks and onto the floor in shiny strands.

Osiah pulled back with a wet pop, Scarlett gasping for air, a long string of spit connecting her swollen lips to the head of his cock.

“Sorry, Liz,” Scarlett said with a wicked, breathless smile, voice hoarse. “We started a little early. Come in.”

She reached out, grabbed Elizabeth’s hand, and pulled her inside, the door clicking shut behind them with a soft, final sound.

The three of them didn’t waste time.

Scarlett was already naked, her skin flushed and gleaming under the trailer lights, cum still glistening on her thighs from Osiah’s earlier load. She tugged Elizabeth closer, kissing her hard and deep, tongues sliding together as her hands roamed over the black dress, squeezing her waist and pulling her hips forward. Osiah stood back for a second, cock still hard and slick, watching the two women with dark, hungry eyes.

“Get her out of that dress,” he said, voice low and rough.

Scarlett didn’t hesitate. She pulled the dress up and over Elizabeth’s head, revealing the simple black bra and panties underneath. Elizabeth’s body was gorgeous—full, soft tits straining against the bra, narrow waist flaring into wide hips, and that round, firm ass that filled out the panties perfectly. Scarlett unhooked the bra, letting Elizabeth’s heavy tits spill free, nipples already hard and begging for attention.

“God, look at you,” Scarlett murmured, cupping one tit and thumbing the nipple, rolling it between her fingers. “So fucking pretty. These tits… I’ve been thinking about them all day.”

Osiah stepped in, gripping Elizabeth’s waist from behind and pulling her back against his chest. His hard cock pressed hot and heavy against the small of her back as he kissed the side of her neck, teeth grazing her skin. “You’ve been thinking about this since you watched me fuck her, haven’t you? Watched my cock stretch her open while she tried to talk to her fiancé.”

Elizabeth shivered, nodding, her voice barely a whisper. “Yes…”

Scarlett dropped to her knees first, hooking her fingers into Elizabeth’s panties and sliding them down her legs. She leaned in and licked a slow, broad stripe up Elizabeth’s soaked slit, making her gasp and buck her hips.

Scarlett stayed on her knees between Elizabeth’s legs, eating her out with hungry, wet strokes while Osiah stood behind her, hands mauling her tits, pinching and rolling her nipples as he kissed and bit her neck. Elizabeth’s hands tangled in Scarlett’s hair, hips rocking against Scarlett’s mouth while Osiah’s thick cock rubbed against her ass, leaving a trail of pre-cum on her skin.

“Fuck… Scarlett,” Elizabeth moaned, voice shaky and needy. “Your tongue feels so good… right there…”

Osiah squeezed her tits harder, fingers sinking into the soft flesh. “Tell her how wet you are. Tell her you’ve been dripping since you saw me throat-fuck her. Tell her your pussy is aching for this.”

Elizabeth’s head fell back against his shoulder, a broken whimper escaping. “I’m so wet… I can’t stop thinking about it… about both of you… about how deep you were inside her…”

Scarlett moaned into her cunt, licking faster, sucking hard on her swollen clit while her tongue flicked inside her. Elizabeth came hard within minutes, thighs shaking, a broken cry escaping as she gripped Scarlett’s hair tighter, her cunt pulsing against Scarlett’s mouth.

They didn’t let her come down.

Scarlett stood, kissing Elizabeth again, letting her taste herself on her lips. Osiah turned Elizabeth around, bending her over the edge of the bed. He pushed her legs apart and thrust into her from behind in one smooth, deep stroke, filling her completely. Elizabeth gasped, her tits pressing into the mattress as he started fucking her with long, powerful strokes, his hips slapping against her ass.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” Osiah groaned, one hand gripping her hip, the other reaching around to rub her clit. “Taking my cock so well already… this pussy was made for it.”

Scarlett knelt on the bed in front of Elizabeth, spreading her legs and guiding Elizabeth’s mouth to her soaked cunt. “Eat me while he fucks you, Liz. Let me feel that tongue while he ruins you.”

Elizabeth moaned into Scarlett’s pussy, licking eagerly as Osiah pounded into her from behind, his thick cock stretching her with every deep thrust. The wet slap of flesh filled the trailer, mixed with Scarlett’s moans and Elizabeth’s muffled sounds.

Osiah sat on the edge of the bed, pulling Elizabeth onto his lap facing him. She sank down onto his thick cock in one slow, careful motion, mindful of her ankle. He held her hips, guiding her as she rode him, her tits bouncing heavily with every rise and fall. Scarlett knelt behind Elizabeth, hands spreading her ass cheeks, tongue licking where Osiah’s cock disappeared into her pussy.

“Ride him, Liz,” Scarlett urged, voice husky and low. “Take every inch. Feel how deep he is inside you. Let that big cock stretch you open while I taste both of you.”

Osiah groaned, thrusting up to meet her, his hips snapping upward in steady, powerful strokes that drove him deep into her tight heat. “Fuck, you’re tight. So wet and tight… squeeze my cock just like that. Milk me with that pretty little cunt.”

Elizabeth moaned loudly, head thrown back, her full tits bouncing and jiggling wildly with every rise and fall. “Osiah… you’re so deep… I can feel you in my stomach… fuck, it’s so much…”

Scarlett’s tongue kept working, licking Elizabeth’s clit in firm, wet strokes and dragging along Osiah’s shaft every time she lifted, tasting the slick mess they were making together. The wet sounds of Elizabeth’s pussy taking Osiah’s cock filled the trailer, mixed with the soft, obscene licks from Scarlett’s mouth.

Elizabeth’s hips rolled faster, chasing the pleasure as Osiah thrust up harder, his hands gripping her ass to help her bounce on his cock. Her tits heaved with every movement, the soft, heavy flesh slapping together lightly as she rode him.

“God, look at you,” Osiah growled, voice rough with lust. “Riding my cock so good while your friend licks your clit. You love this, don’t you? Love getting fucked while she tastes how wet you are for me.”

Elizabeth’s voice broke into a needy moan. “Yes… I love it… don’t stop… fuck me harder…”

Scarlett moaned into her cunt, sucking harder on her swollen clit. “You taste so fucking good mixed with him. Keep riding that thick cock, Liz. Let him fill you up. I want to feel you cum on my tongue while he’s buried inside you.”

Osiah thrust up harder, his hips snapping to meet every downward bounce, driving his cock deep into her dripping pussy with wet, filthy slaps. Elizabeth’s tits bounced heavily, nipples hard and dark, her body trembling as the pleasure built fast and intense.

“Cum for me,” Osiah ordered, one hand sliding up to pinch her nipple hard. “Cum all over my cock while Scarlett licks you clean. Let me feel that tight cunt squeeze me.”

Elizabeth came again, cunt pulsing around him in strong, rhythmic waves, her tits jiggling wildly as she shook. A broken cry escaped her lips, her hips grinding down desperately as the orgasm rolled through her.

They didn’t let her come down.

Scarlett kept licking, her tongue flicking over Elizabeth’s sensitive clit even as she trembled through the aftershocks. Osiah continued thrusting up into her, slower now but still deep, grinding against her as she rode out the pleasure.

Osiah laid Elizabeth on her back on the bed, careful with her ankle, spreading her legs wide. He fucked her in long, deep strokes while Scarlett straddled her face, grinding her soaked pussy against Elizabeth’s mouth. Elizabeth licked eagerly, tongue sliding inside Scarlett as Osiah pounded into her.

“Eat her, Liz,” Osiah growled, hips snapping forward, driving his thick cock deep into her tight cunt with wet, heavy slaps. “Taste how wet she is from watching us. Suck on her clit while I fuck this pretty cunt. Let me feel you moan around her while I stretch you open.”

Scarlett moaned, hands tangled in Elizabeth’s hair, rolling her hips to grind her dripping folds harder against Elizabeth’s tongue. “Yes… just like that… your tongue feels so fucking good. Keep licking me while he ruins you. Fuck, Liz, you’re so eager… I can feel how much you love tasting me while he’s balls-deep in that tight little pussy.”

Elizabeth came hard again, moaning loudly into Scarlett’s cunt, her body shaking as waves of pleasure crashed through her. Her cunt clenched and pulsed around Osiah’s cock, milking him with every spasm. Scarlett followed a moment later, thighs clamping around Elizabeth’s head as she ground down through her orgasm, a raw, satisfied cry tearing from her throat.

Osiah didn’t slow down. He kept fucking Elizabeth through her climax, long, powerful strokes that made her tits bounce heavily on her chest. The wet slap of his hips against her ass filled the trailer, mixed with the obscene sounds of Elizabeth’s tongue working Scarlett’s soaked pussy.

“God, listen to you,” Osiah groaned, voice rough with lust. “Cumming so hard on my cock while you eat her out. Such a good little slut for us. Your cunt is gripping me so tight… I can feel every pulse. Keep licking her—make her cum again while I fuck you stupid.”

Scarlett rocked her hips faster, smearing her wetness across Elizabeth’s face. “Yes… fuck, Liz… right there… suck my clit harder. I’m so close again… don’t stop… Osiah, fuck her harder so I can feel her moan into me.”

Osiah obliged, his thrusts turning faster and deeper, the head of his cock dragging against that sensitive spot inside Elizabeth with every stroke. Her tits jiggled wildly with the force, nipples hard and dark. Elizabeth’s moans vibrated against Scarlett’s cunt, her tongue working frantically as another orgasm built fast inside her.

“That’s it,” Osiah growled, one hand reaching up to pinch Elizabeth’s nipple hard. “Cum again for me. Let me feel that pretty pussy squeeze my cock while you make Scarlett cum on your tongue. You love this, don’t you? Being used by both of us.”

Elizabeth’s response was a muffled, desperate moan, her body tensing as the pleasure peaked. She came again, harder this time, her cunt spasming around Osiah’s thick shaft in rhythmic waves. Scarlett cried out, grinding down through her own second orgasm, thighs trembling around Elizabeth’s head.

Osiah kept pistoning into her, long, deep strokes that drew out every last tremor, his hips slapping against her ass with wet, filthy sounds. The trailer was thick with the smell of sex—sweat, cum, and the musky sweetness of their combined arousal.

He didn’t let up until both women were shaking and gasping, bodies slick and spent, the three of them tangled together in a messy, heated heap.

Scarlett moved onto all fours on the bed, ass raised high, back arched in invitation. Osiah positioned himself behind her, gripping her hips as he thrust back into her soaked cunt in one smooth, deep stroke. At the same time, Elizabeth slid underneath her in a sixty-nine, her mouth immediately finding Scarlett’s swollen clit while her tongue occasionally brushed Osiah’s balls and the base of his cock as he fucked Scarlett.

“Fuck, look at you two,” Osiah groaned, his hips snapping forward in steady, powerful strokes that made Scarlett’s ass ripple with every impact. “My two dirty girls. One taking my cock deep, the other licking my balls while I fuck her. You love this, don’t you? Love being used together like the greedy little sluts you are.”

Scarlett pushed back onto him hard, her voice breaking into a moan. “Yes… God, yes… fuck me harder. Liz, suck my clit while he fills me up… I want to feel your tongue on me while his thick cock stretches my cunt.”

Elizabeth moaned in response, her tongue working frantically over Scarlett’s swollen clit, licking and sucking as Osiah’s cock pistoned in and out inches from her face. The wet, filthy sounds of Osiah’s hips slapping against Scarlett’s ass filled the trailer, mixed with the obscene slurping of Elizabeth’s mouth. Osiah’s hand reached down between Elizabeth’s legs, his fingers finding her clit and rubbing it in firm, relentless circles at the same time.

“Keep licking her,” Osiah growled, thrusting harder into Scarlett, his balls slapping against Elizabeth’s chin with every deep stroke. “Taste how wet she is from watching me fuck her earlier. Suck that clit while I pound this tight pussy. You’re both so fucking soaked for me.”

Scarlett’s back arched deeper, her tits hanging heavy and swaying with every brutal thrust. “Fuck… Liz, your tongue is perfect… right there… don’t stop sucking my clit. Osiah, harder… fill me up. I want to feel your cum dripping out of me while she licks it up.”

Osiah’s hips snapped forward faster, driving his thick cock deep into Scarlett with wet, heavy slaps. The force made Scarlett’s ass ripple and jiggle, her tits bouncing wildly beneath her. Elizabeth’s tongue never stopped, licking Scarlett’s clit and the base of Osiah’s shaft every time he pulled back, tasting the messy mix of their arousal.

“God, you two are perfect,” Osiah groaned, his fingers rubbing Elizabeth’s clit faster. “One taking every inch like a good little whore, the other licking my balls and her cunt while I fuck her. Cum for me, both of you. I want to feel you squeezing my cock and moaning into her pussy.”

Elizabeth came again from Osiah’s fingers, her cries muffled against Scarlett’s soaked cunt, her body shaking as waves of pleasure crashed through her. Scarlett followed a moment later, pushing back hard onto Osiah’s cock, her thighs trembling as she ground down on Elizabeth’s tongue through her orgasm.

Osiah kept thrusting through it all, long, deep strokes that drew out every spasm, his cock pistoning into Scarlett’s pulsing cunt until he finally buried himself to the hilt with a low, guttural groan. Thick, hot spurts flooded her deep, mixing with the mess already inside her as he ground against her ass, milking every last drop.

They stayed locked together for a long moment, breathing hard, bodies slick with sweat and cum, the trailer thick with the raw, musky smell of sex.

All three collapsed together on the bed in a heated, messy tangle. Osiah rolled onto his back, pulling Elizabeth on top of him so she straddled his hips. She sank down onto his thick cock slowly, taking him inch by inch until he was buried deep inside her again. At the same time, Scarlett swung a leg over his face, lowering her soaked pussy onto his waiting mouth while she leaned forward to kiss Elizabeth deeply. Their hands roamed freely—groping each other’s tits, pinching hard nipples, squeezing soft flesh as their tongues slid together in a hungry, open-mouthed kiss.

The three of them moved in a slow, filthy rhythm. Elizabeth rolled her hips in lazy circles, riding Osiah’s cock with deep, grinding strokes that made her full tits bounce heavily between them. Scarlett ground down on Osiah’s tongue, her ass flexing as she rocked against his face, moaning into Elizabeth’s mouth. Osiah’s hands gripped Elizabeth’s hips, guiding her movements while his tongue worked Scarlett’s cunt in long, wet licks, sucking on her clit and pushing inside her.

“God, you two look so fucking good,” Osiah groaned against Scarlett’s pussy, the vibration making her shiver. “Ride that cock, Liz. Bounce on it while you kiss her. Let me feel how wet you are.”

Elizabeth moaned into Scarlett’s mouth, her hips moving faster, taking him deeper with every roll. “Osiah… you’re so deep… I can feel you hitting so far inside me… fuck, it’s so good…”

Scarlett broke the kiss just enough to speak, her voice breathy and rough. “Keep riding him, Liz. Take every thick inch. I want to hear how wet your pussy sounds while you fuck him.” She reached down, pinching Elizabeth’s nipple hard, rolling it between her fingers. “And you—eat my cunt Osiah. Suck my clit while she rides you. Make me cum on your face so she can taste it when we kiss.”

Osiah thrust up harder, meeting Elizabeth’s downward bounces with powerful snaps of his hips. The wet slap of their bodies filled the trailer—her soaked cunt taking his cock over and over, her tits bouncing heavily, Scarlett’s ass grinding against his mouth. Elizabeth’s hands cupped Scarlett’s tits, squeezing the soft, heavy mounds, thumbs flicking over her hard nipples as they kissed again, tongues sliding messily.

“Fuck… I’m close,” Elizabeth gasped against Scarlett’s lips, her hips grinding faster, clit rubbing against Osiah’s pelvis with every roll. “He’s so deep… I can feel him in my stomach…”

Scarlett moaned loudly, grinding down harder on Osiah’s tongue. “Cum for him, Liz. Let me feel you shake while he fills that tight little pussy. I’m so close too… his tongue is so good… keep sucking my clit, Osiah. Don’t stop.”

Osiah groaned into Scarlett’s cunt, thrusting up harder, his cock pistoning deep into Elizabeth with wet, filthy sounds. “That’s it… both of you. Cum on me. Squeeze my cock and flood my mouth. I want to feel you both fall apart at the same time.”

Elizabeth came first, cunt pulsing around Osiah’s cock in strong, rhythmic waves as she kissed Scarlett harder, moaning into her mouth. Her tits bounced wildly with the force of her orgasm, body shaking as pleasure crashed through her. Scarlett followed a moment later, grinding down on Osiah’s tongue with a loud, broken moan, her thighs trembling around his head as she came hard.

Osiah groaned into Scarlett’s pussy, thrusting up hard one last time, burying himself deep inside Elizabeth as he filled her with his final load. Thick, hot spurts flooded her, mixing with her own wetness as he ground against her, milking every drop.

They collapsed in a sweaty, tangled heap, breathing hard, bodies slick and spent. The trailer smelled like sex—musky, sweet, and raw. For a long moment the only sound was their heavy breathing and the faint hum of the set outside.

Scarlett smiled lazily, tracing a finger over Elizabeth’s breast. “Welcome to the fun, Liz.”

Elizabeth let out a breathless laugh, still trembling. “I… I think I like it here.”

Osiah pulled them both closer, one arm around each woman. “Good. Because we’re just getting started.”

They stayed like that for a while, limbs tangled, hearts slowing. Eventually Osiah stirred first, pressing a soft kiss to Elizabeth’s forehead and then Scarlett’s shoulder. “We should clean up before someone comes looking for us.”

Scarlett hummed in agreement but made no move to get up right away. “Five more minutes. I’m still feeling that last one.”

Elizabeth smiled against Osiah’s chest, her fingers idly tracing the lines of muscle on his stomach. “Same. My legs don’t work yet.”

Osiah chuckled, the sound low and warm. He carefully disentangled himself, helping both women sit up. The three of them moved slowly to the small attached bathroom, the space tight but intimate. Osiah turned on the shower, letting the water heat up while Scarlett grabbed clean towels from a shelf. They took turns under the spray, hands gentle now—Osiah washing Elizabeth’s back, Scarlett rinsing cum from her own thighs, Elizabeth helping wipe sweat and slick from Osiah’s cock with a soapy hand.

No one rushed. The water cascaded over them, washing away the evidence of the night but not the easy, satisfied smiles on their faces.

Once they were clean and dried off, they pulled on comfortable clothes—Elizabeth borrowing one of Scarlett’s oversized t-shirts that hung loose on her frame, Osiah in his jeans and nothing else, Scarlett in a simple robe left open at the front. They settled back on the bed, propped against pillows, sharing a bottle of water and a few pieces of chocolate Scarlett had stashed in a drawer.

“That was… intense,” Elizabeth said softly, a shy but happy smile playing on her lips. She leaned her head on Osiah’s shoulder, her hand resting on Scarlett’s thigh. “I didn’t expect any of this when I asked you to dinner.”

Scarlett laughed, the sound light and affectionate. “Neither did I when I first told him I wanted you to join us. But fuck, it worked out better than I imagined.”

Osiah’s arm tightened around Elizabeth’s waist. “You were perfect. Both of you.”

Elizabeth bit her lip, then spoke again, voice a little quieter. “This has been… really good for me. I had a rough break-up a few months ago. It messed with my head more than I wanted to admit. Feeling wanted like this, without any pressure… it’s accelerated everything. Made me feel alive again. Sexy again. Thank you. Both of you.”

Scarlett reached over and squeezed her hand. “You deserve it, Liz. You’re gorgeous, talented, and you’ve got this quiet fire that’s fucking irresistible. We’re lucky you walked in on us that night.”

Osiah nodded, his thumb stroking slow circles on Elizabeth’s hip. 

“We can keep doing this. Every chance we get while we’re filming. No strings, no drama—just us, whenever the schedule allows. Fuck like rabbits every single time we can sneak away.”

Elizabeth’s cheeks flushed, but she smiled wider. “I’d like that. A lot.”

Scarlett’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “We should make it even better next time. Maybe a video call with Romain while we’re at it. Let him think I’m just having a late-night chat with my co-star while Osiah’s buried inside me… or while you’re riding his face, Liz. Imagine his voice on the line while we’re all moaning.”

Elizabeth’s breath hitched, a mix of shock and arousal flashing across her face. “You’re serious?”

“Dead serious,” Scarlett said, grinning. “He calls every night anyway, thinking I’m just tired from stunts. We could make it fun. You could be right there, trying not to make a sound while Osiah fucks you senseless. Or maybe we let him hear just enough to wonder.”

Osiah chuckled, shaking his head. “You really are a bad fucking girl.”

Scarlett leaned over and kissed him, then turned to kiss Elizabeth softly. “Only with the right people. And you two? You’re definitely the right people.”

They talked for a while longer, voices low and comfortable, planning nothing serious but enjoying the idea of more stolen moments on set—quick fucks in trailers, late-night visits, maybe even a risky encounter in a quiet corner between takes. The conversation felt easy, the three of them already slipping into a natural rhythm.

Eventually the night grew late. Osiah helped Elizabeth gather her things, making sure she was steady on her ankle before walking her the short distance back to her own trailer. Scarlett stood in her doorway, robe barely closed, watching them with a satisfied smile.

“Sleep well,” she called softly. “We’ll do this again soon.”

Elizabeth turned and gave her a small wave, cheeks still pink. “Definitely.”

Osiah walked her to her door, pressing one last gentle kiss to her lips. “Rest that ankle. We’ve got more long days ahead.”

“I will,” she promised, then added with a shy smile, “Thank you. For everything tonight.”

He nodded, eyes warm. “Anytime.”

Inside her trailer, Elizabeth collapsed onto her bed with a happy, exhausted sigh. The memory of the night played behind her eyes—Osiah’s hands, Scarlett’s mouth, the way they had all fit together so perfectly. For the first time in months, the ache from her recent break-up felt distant, replaced by something lighter, hotter, and far more exciting.

Across the lot, Osiah returned to his own trailer, the taste of both women still on his tongue. He smiled to himself as he stripped down for bed. The shoot had just gotten a lot more interesting.

Scarlett, alone in her trailer now, lay back on the rumpled sheets with a contented sigh. She touched her still-sensitive body lightly, remembering the feel of Elizabeth’s tongue and Osiah’s cock. Tomorrow would be another long day of filming, but the nights? The nights were theirs.