by M. S. Parker
His eyes were sparkling as he spoke, “Now how about some fun?”
Chapter 4
He left me standing in the middle of the studio naked.
Okay…that’s not exactly what I’d seen coming.
I’d assumed fun would entail sex. After all, he was supposed to be this big time flirt. A lady killer, right?
I was so worked up, if he’d decided to seduce me, I wouldn’t have minded. Actually, I was on board with the idea. I was no virgin and I wasn’t afraid of my own sexuality. After all, I had taken his dare and had actually enjoyed it.
Should I feel embarrassed now? Exploited or something?
I’d just posed naked for money.
Abruptly, I realized I did feel a little embarrassed, and out of place. Grabbing one of the blankets on the bed, I wrapped it around myself and started to pace. Drifting up and down the studio, I let my eyes wander to the framed prints on the wall. They were advertisements, some of them for small local places, but others were for national brands that I’d heard of even back in Tennessee.
It made me feel better. Flynn wasn’t doing any of this to sell to some cheap skin magazine.
Bouvier was top-of-the-line fashion and the name itself was synonymous with elegance. If my naked body ended up in one of their advertisements, it would be tasteful.
Maybe I could get some shots worth putting into a portfolio. Kendra had been telling me I could be a catalog model. I’d always assumed that she was just being polite. Typically, women who looked like me ended up getting hired as plus-sized models. In this society, anything over a size eight was considered plus-sized, but that’s the fashion world for you. I refused to perpetuate that way of thinking.
I’d never thought much about it when she told me I should consider trying to find any agent, but maybe she was serious. I definitely wasn’t cut out for her world, but there were other options.
Maybe modeling was a possibility. Apparently Flynn saw something in me.
As I was considering the drastic career change, Flynn returned with a crate and pulled out half a dozen small jars.
I gave him a curious look and he grinned.
“Body paint!”
The devilish look was back in his cadet blue eyes though now I could see he forced it. Something had happened during our intimate photo shoot and he wanted to put it out of his mind. He wanted to put me back in one of the regular places woman usually held in his life: easy fun or pure art.
I shook my head. “Nice try, sleazeball, but you’re not turning me into cheap performance art.”
He grinned. The blanket I’d wrapped around my torso and tucked in near my breasts chose that moment to loosen and gape, drooping down to my waist.
I caught it, but before I could cover back up, Flynn came over and tugged it away.
I wasn’t about to get into a wrestling match after all the work I’d done to convince him of my nonchalant attitude so I gave it up with a bored sigh. “I’m not letting you put a bunch of paint all over me,” I said again.
“Oh, come on, it won’t hurt a bit.” He lifted a brow as he added, “You want the three thousand, right?”
I swallowed down the urge to growl at him. “What exactly did you have in mind?”
He smiled.
A few moments later, I wish I had stuck by my no.
I held still as he lifted gloved hands, covered in brilliant red, toward my torso. “Don’t move,” he said. His eyes lingered on my face. “You don’t want it to run.”
I swallowed and held still.
He’d had me pull my hair up and now I stood in front of him, naked, without even the illusion of modesty my long hair could provide. When he cupped my breasts in his paint-slicked hands, I gasped.
“There’s one.”
I didn’t breathe as he backed away and changed the gloves, pressing them into a vivid purple this time.
He pressed one palm to my neck. The other to my abdomen. But instead of stripping off the gloves, he dipped them back into the small pool of paint he’d poured out and, a moment later, I had a purple palm print on my right ass cheek and another one on my left hip.
The pattern continued. A blue palm above my pubis, along my right thigh. Orange on my right hip and left knee.
It didn’t take that long, but I was practically panting for a release that wouldn’t come when he backed away and started to take pictures. He stopped after only a couple and came back, releasing my hair from the ponytail. He stood so close his chest touched my nipples.
A weak whimper left my lips.
His eyes came to mine.
My heart stopped for a moment and we were both still.
The hand that had been smoothing my hair down tightened in it. “Gabriella,” he muttered, just before he caught my mouth in a searing kiss. I couldn’t stop the moan as his tongue turned delicious circles around my own.
Without breaking the kiss, he pulled off his shirt and I wondered if he purposefully wore ones that buttoned so he could take off his clothes while still managing a knee-weakening kiss. Flinging his shirt aside, he raised his head. We were both breathing heavily and his eyes darkened as he glanced down at my breasts, marked by the mostly-dried red paint he’d placed on me.
His mouth came back to mine, but he didn’t linger. Instead, he began to move in a line down my chin, my neck, along the midline of my chest.
When he went to his knees in front of me, I started to tremble. One hand gripped my left hip, almost exactly where he’d placed the palm print earlier. The other curved around my waist, again mirroring a painted palm print.
“I’ve been dying to touch you like this,” he said, his voice guttural. “I’ve wanted it from the first time I saw you.”
The fading light outside made our faint reflection appear in the nearby windows and I watched us, watched as his hands made my body burn. I knew I should put a stop to it. I was letting myself become a cliché, seduced by a known womanizer.
“They’re mirrored,” he said, misreading the expression on my face. “We can see out, but no one can see in.”
He stood back up, bringing my mouth to his with a forceful tug on my hair. As his tongue tangled around mine, my brain kept telling me to stop, to hold onto my self-respect.
His cock was hard, throbbing against me, but it didn’t matter if he wanted me and it didn’t matter how good it felt to have his hands stroking my back, my hips, my ass.
Stop, I told myself. You need to stop…
But even as I finally pulled up the strength to do it, he looked down at me, a puzzled look on his face. It was as though he didn’t know what was going on, as if he’d never touched a woman, kissed a woman. As if he didn’t know what to make of me.
And when he came back to kiss me again, I couldn’t bear to pull away.
When he lowered me onto the hardwood floor, I didn’t resist. I lay there, looking up at him as he finished what I’d attempted to start before. He stripped out of his pants with smooth expedience and in moments, he was coming down on top of me, naked and hard.
It was my turn to look, I thought as I greedily devoured the sight of him. Damn, he was beautiful. The v-grooves of his hips and the thin trail of dark curls that started at his bellybutton all pointed towards a thick, swollen shaft. It was perfectly shaped, curving up towards his belly. Long, but not too long. The right size to make me feel every inch, but not so big that he’d have to be careful. And thick...sinfully thick. The sight of him made me swallow and I squirmed a little, thinking of having him inside me.
He caught my knees and slowly pushed my thighs apart, his eyes on my face the entire time. My breath hitched as he cupped me, bold and blatant, using his middle finger to stroke the pulsing point of my clitoris.
I shivered. He smiled at my response. He came down over me and started to massage my clit even as he began to circle my entrance with another finger.
“You’re already wet,” he whispered. He watched me as he pushed inside and I sucked in a breath, pressing my palms flat
to the floor.
He hissed in a breath as he began to stroke me with his finger, soft and shallow at first, then faster and deeper.
Arousal sparked sharply when he added a second finger and curled them, withdrawing completely so that I felt every single inch.
I started to rock up to meet his hand, panting, whimpering…and he stopped.
I heard the unmistakable sound of a condom wrapper ripping and opened my eyes, locking with his. Without looking away, he pushed his hands underneath my buttocks and opened me further. The tip of his erection teased me, slid back and forth along my clitoris and then, slowly, he pushed inside.
I stared into his eyes and tried not to beg. I needed more.
With one smooth stroke, he moved forward, filling me even as I cried out. He held himself still inside my body and I could feel him throbbing as he waited, either for his own control or my adjustment.
His mouth found mine again as he rocked slowly against me. I clutched his shoulders as I slid my tongue between his lips. He began to thrust, long, deep strokes that made me whimper and moan.
He took each sound into his mouth, swallowing them down.
His teeth caught my bottom lip, worrying at it until I dug my nails into his shoulders. He kissed his way down my throat and the air was filled with the sounds of pleasure I couldn’t control.
My climax came with a suddenness that took my breath away, my legs shaking, my entire body convulsing in one coil and release of ecstasy. It hit hard and fast, stealing my breath away and Flynn slowed, his movements easing for a moment.
I sucked in oxygen, my head spinning.
Once I was no longer seeing stars, he caught my thigh in his hand, lifting my leg as he started to surge against me, hard and fast. I cried up in surprise. He buried his face against my neck, his cock an iron brand throbbing inside me.
He muttered something that sounded like my name and then drove himself into me faster and harder than before. The wild rhythm brought me to another peak and we came together in a tight tangle of limbs and sweat and fire.
He slid down and dropped his head to rest between my breasts.
I tried to steady my breathing, dazed delight spinning through my head.
Whoa…
That was the only thought in my head.
Whoa…
I’d had sex before and I’d enjoyed it before. Or so I’d thought. But this…whoa…this had been pure lust.
I didn’t dare to wonder how I stacked up against what must have been a considerable list of his previous partners, but I could say that the few other lovers in my past had been fumbling, awkward teenagers compared to him. I was about to say something when he pulled away and sat up, his face set in grim lines.
He flicked a glance at me and I caught sight of the anger there. My blood froze. I had the oddest feeling the anger was directed at himself, not me, but still, the sight of it made my belly churn.
He pushed himself to his feet, not looking at me. “I’ll call down to the front desk and they’ll have the cash for you.”
He turned his back on me as he walked to a stack of towels sitting on a nearby table and tossed one my way.
“Shower’s in there,” he said coolly, jerking his head over his shoulder. “Make it fast.”
“I…”
He lifted his head, staring at me with ice in his gaze.
I grabbed my clothes and ducked into the room I hadn’t noticed until now. Shaking, I pressed my back to the wall and looked around. The bathroom was elegant and upscale and the toiletries would have probably blown my mind if I had been capable of thought. Instead, though, I was in a state of numbness as I washed up, the paint washing off easily under the spray of water.
When I came out, Flynn had already dragged on a pair of jeans and was on the phone.
He caught sight of me and turned his back.
Fury lit inside me—finally.
That ass.
As I continued to stand there, he looked back at me and I heard his sigh, listening to him say, “Hold on.”
“I told you, money’s down at the desk.”
“I ought to just tell you to shove that money up your ass,” I snapped. I had my pride.
Jerking up my chin, I strode past him. I should do it.
He was already talking to whoever when I slammed the door shut behind me.
The rent was due—soon.
I was flat broke. And Flynn probably wouldn’t notice anyway, which would make the whole statement a moot point.
I walked down the steps at war with myself.
I hesitated at the bottom of the steps and just as I started to head toward the door, a woman looked up, a smile on her face. “Ms. Baine?”
I froze.
She came out from behind the desk, an envelope in hand. “Your fee.”
Slowly, I took it.
Rent. Electricity. Groceries, I told myself. He’d offered me the money before we’d had sex. I was being paid for modeling. Not for what had happened after. They were two different things.
I pasted a fake smile on my face and left as quickly as I could. I didn’t plan on ever going back there.
Chapter 5
My memory of the Flynn incident swung back and forth like a heavy pendulum of guilt and pride.
On one side, I was devastated that I had let myself be drawn in by such a cheap ploy. I thought I was smarter than that.
But on the other I could still feel the aftershocks from my climax.
Was I really just a naïve girl who let a manipulating bastard take advantage of her?
I was a free, adult woman who took her pleasure when the opportunity arose.
It was enough to give me a headache.
The one thing I couldn’t do was let myself think about the look I’d seen in Flynn’s eyes—that one brief flicker of something I’d thought was real. I didn’t know if there had been any real emotion there or not, but whatever it had been, he’d buried it deep and I wasn’t going to try to dig it out, no matter how good the sex had been.
The worst part was that I lied to Kendra that evening when I handed her the money.
“You sold a treatment for a new show? That is so great! I’m so proud of you.” She threw her arms around me.
“It’s not really a big deal. I managed to do my job,” I said, grateful she couldn’t see my face.
“It’s going to be a hit, I know it. What’s it about?” She released me, still beaming from ear to ear.
“A romantic comedy?” It came out like a question.
“You’re not sure?” Kendra asked, confused.
I sighed. “Because it’s not the truth. I lied.”
I collapsed against our kitchen counter. Kendra leaned against the opposite side and crossed her arms, the expression on her face saying she was waiting for an explanation.
I still couldn’t tell her the truth. “It was just the script for a commercial. Not even a good commercial. One of those awful acne cream ads where all the people talk about ugly ducklings and other fairytale bullshit.”
“Oh, who cares, Gabs.” She rolled her eyes. “You’re doing what you love and you’re making it work. We can pay rent!”
“And buy groceries,” I added.
More than the lie, I felt what Kendra said get under my skin.
She was proud of me for doing what I loved. Except I hadn’t done any of it.
“Yay to groceries,” I said, forcing myself to smile. “I’m going to splurge...I’m getting ice cream.”
I didn’t sleep worth crap. It wasn’t until the cool, quiet hours of early morning that I understood why I was so uneasy.
Kendra had been so excited for me because she thought I was making money doing something I loved.
Instead, I’d taken off my clothes, had some pictures taken, then had sex with a man who’d set my body on fire. That wasn’t what had me crashing though.
It was the look on his face after.
I should have stayed.
I should have pushed him, f
ought with him. Something.
Instead, I’d let the hurt inside me win.
I’d given up. Even though I felt something between us, I’d given up.
I thought about the look I’d seen in his eyes. The entire reason I’d let him pull me down to the floor when the voice of reason had told me to pull away. That intense, strange expression on his face as though he had no idea who I was or what he was doing there. It was as though he had been seeing me for the first time.
But when he’d freaked out, what had I done?
“I ran,” I muttered.
Here I was, still stuck in my dead-end job, not doing much of anything that I’d dreamed about. Then I end up having the kind of sex girls only can dream of and when it went to shit, did I do anything to find out why? No. I fucking ran.
It was like I was just giving up on everything I’d always expected to find in my life.
I was wallowing on the couch when Kendra burst through the door with a bag of colorful ribbons and tissue paper. My eyebrows shot up. It was a rare day when she was up before me, and an even rarer one when her chestnut brown curls weren’t perfectly styled, but rather pulled back into a sloppy ponytail.
“My cousin’s son turns two next week. Look! I got him finger paint.”
I stared at the bright colors. The red, the blue, the orange…
“I lied!”
For a moment, Kendra just looked at me. Then she put the gift and trimmings down and went into the kitchen. I stayed where I was. After all, in the studio apartment we shared, the kitchen was just on the other side of the big, open room. Hugging my knees to my chest, I watched her.
Dramatic confessions were nothing new here.
We both had a penchant for drama. It was just my turn this time.
“So. Details,” she said calmly.
“I did the whole hand modeling gig. That much was real,” I said. “And I knew he probably flirted with everyone. It just felt good.”
“It’s okay to flirt and it’s even okay to have sex. You’re both consenting adults. Don’t be so hard on yourself, Gabriella.” Kendra smiled at me as she pulled two cups down out of the cabinet.
