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I swallow, my voice nearly lost. “Yes.”
He nods, looking me over before he undoes the button of my jeans. “I’m going to make you a smoothie before we go. And you’ll eat a protein bar, too. And if, at any point, you’re not feeling well, you tell me, all right?”
I nod, not breathing a word.
Teddy tugs off my pants, tapping my legs so I step out of them. My briefs follow, leaving me in the nude from the waist down. “You’re going to wear this for me,” he says, his tone not leaving any room for argument, not that I would argue. “And while you watch me fuck my scene partner, you can think about how I’m thinking of these.”
Fuck.
Teddy eases the leather up my legs, the motion gentle and smooth. He tugs it over my half-hard cock, positioning me just so beneath the unforgiving fabric. His fingers glide over the little bow last, eyes meeting mine.
“Beautiful, babydoll.”
I nod, my heart pounding.
Teddy replaces my jeans before standing up. “Ready?”
“Yep,” I eke out.
Teddy’s grin is a touch feral.
True to his word, my tease of a husband has me eat a protein bar before we leave and drink a smoothie on the way to the studio. Honestly, I don’t mind him looking out for me, especially considering I have been regaining my strength after the complete upheaval of my intestines.
I’ve seen the outside of the Elite 8 Studios building before, but I’ve never been inside it. Today, Teddy leads me right to the nondescript door on the nondescript building, enters a code, and we walk inside.
“Oh my God,” I breathe.
Teddy chuckles as I hasten toward the massive neon “Elite 8 Studios” sign on the wall inside the door. It’s bright yellow, and I remember it from when Niko started here. He took a picture in front of it and sent it to me.
I hand Teddy my phone. “Please?” I ask excitedly.
He capitulates, taking a picture of me grinning like a fool in front of the sign. I hop on my feet a little when I see it, and then I send it right to my best bro-friend.
“Show me everything,” I say to Teddy, heading further into the building. His soft laugh follows.
I gasp when we reach the doors leading into the studios themselves. There’s three of them, aptly named Studio 1, 2, and 3. Block-letter titles sit beside the door to each, above which rests a light to indicate whether or not filming is in progress. Studio 2 is lit red. The rooms are completely closed off, a necessity from a soundproofing standpoint, and just like I imagined in my most perfect dreams, someone steps out of one of the doors in nothing but a jockstrap.
I grab Teddy’s arm, a huge grin on my face as the man walks down the hall. “That was Thor,” I hiss. “Did you see? Teddy, did you see?”
He laughs silently as I sprint ahead. Down another hall are what look like offices. Teddy tells me the private rooms are that way, too. There’s a glass-walled gym that Teddy uses a few times a week. Next up is a room that, at a peek, is lined in pink orchids. Seeing the table stationed in the middle, I deduce this is where the wax torture happens. I pass quickly by.
Further down the hall, there’s a break room filled with comfy couches and chairs, all sorts of snacks and drinks, and nude art on the walls. Past that is a large, open studio space where props are stored, from beds to inflatable pools to a motorcycle. And then… Then, there’s the locker room.
I spin to Teddy with wide eyes. “Can I?”
He shakes his head, a small smile on his face. “Afraid not. Performers only.”
I groan, although I understand the need for that sort of privacy. Even in porn production, boundaries are important. “Fiiine,” I mutter. And then add, because I can, “My husband is mean.”
The playful slap to my ass has my blood pooling south real damn fast.
“Fuck,” I breathe, my cock pressing against the leather of my thong.
“Behave, sweetheart,” Teddy says, grabbing my chin in a light hold and placing a kiss near my ear. He hums before leaning back, and I swear I can feel the rumble of it in my cock. “Come on. You can hang out in the break room while I go talk to Jerome.”
“Yeah,” I say, clearing my throat. “Sounds good.”
As Teddy heads off to clear my visit with the boss, I peruse the art on the walls inside the break room. It looks like stills of the performers, possibly taken during filming. But they’re cropped such that they look tasteful, in a way. Like classy erotic art.
