by M. S. Parker
He smiled back, leaning down to take my nipple between his lips. I gasped, arching up against him, surprised at the rough suction.
“Too much?” he asked, glancing up at me.
“No,” I breathed. “More.”
Guys usually treated me like I was going to break, but Alix didn’t seem to have that problem. His thumb stroked over my clit, the pressure hard enough to make me jerk. Teeth worried at my nipple, sharp bites of pain that didn’t cancel out the pleasure from his mouth and his hand. He slid a finger inside, and my head fell back, eyes closed.
“Look at me, Sine.”
I squirmed, hips moving as his finger and thumb continued to work between my legs. My hands opened and closed over my head, the need to touch, to hold, frustrated me more than I thought possible.
“Sine.”
He didn’t shout, but the authority in his voice made me open my eyes. I gasped as a second finger pushed inside, but as soon as my eyelids started fluttering...
“Don’t.”
I looked at him, saw the dark hair fall across his forehead, and my fingers itched to push it back.
“I want to touch you,” I confessed, my voice close to begging. “Please, Alix.”
He shook his head, eyes on my face as he bent his head, flicked his tongue against my nipple. He twisted his fingers, sending a new rush of sensations through me.
“Don’t close your eyes,” he cautioned. “I want you watching me as I make you come on my fingers.”
Sex with my two previous partners hadn’t been entirely unpleasant, but I’d had to use my own fingers to make sure I finished. If the pressure building in my belly was any indication, I wouldn’t need to do that tonight.
“I know you don’t believe you’re desirable,” he said quietly. “But you are, Sine. I desire you. I see you.”
His thumb circled my clit faster, drawing out gasps and moans as he pushed me closer to the edge.
“You can trust me,” he continued. “Let me show you how good it can be. Do you want that?”
I nodded, every muscle in my body tensing, coiling in anticipation. I bit my lower lip, vaguely remembering how thin my walls were. Then his mouth was on my breast again, and I came, hard enough to make him swear as my pussy clamped down on his fingers.
I was still breathing hard when he moved over me. I’d known he was much bigger than me, but I hadn’t really felt it until now. He balanced on his elbows, his body hovering over mine, close enough that I could feel the heat radiating off his skin. For a long moment, we stayed like that, and then his mouth was on mine again. He kissed me hard and deep, lowering his body until I felt the tip of him pushing against me. I cried out as he eased his way inside, but he swallowed the sound.
Our bodies shouldn’t have fit together, shouldn’t have been able to move this way. He was so big all over, he could crush me, tear me in half, but he didn’t. Even as he moved inside me, filling me almost to the point of pain, I could feel the restraint, the sheer magnitude of the power he held back.
Each stroke made me struggle against my restraints, desperate to have some form of control, some outlet for everything building inside me. All I could do was take it, absorb it, until it all became too much and I exploded.
Even through the white-hot pleasure of my climax, I felt him jerk against me, bury himself deep. And then he was coming too, groaning out my name, and I knew that no matter what we said or intended, things would never be the same.
9
Alix
I kept going over things in my head, trying to figure out when I’d changed from wanting Sine to continue modeling for me to simply wanting her. She was nothing like the women I usually went for. I’d always preferred slender builds, but Sine was the definition of petite. When I picked her up the other night and carried her to her bedroom, I realized just how small she was. For a moment, when I’d been above her, I had the sudden urge to tell her that I’d protect her, keep her safe. That I’d never let anyone hurt her. Not even me. Not even if I had to walk away.
But that thought hadn’t been enough to stop me from sinking into her, from finding pleasure in her body.
It hadn’t been until I’d untied her and started rubbing her arms and hands to get the circulation flowing properly that I’d realized just how stupid I’d been. She was my assistant and my model, not some nameless Sub I met at a club. And while Sine might not have been a virgin, she definitely wasn’t experienced, especially not in bondage. Having sex with her could ruin everything.
I’d always vowed I’d never be the sort of sleazy photographer who’d seduce his models, and until Saturday night, I’d kept that promise.
I hadn’t lingered, but I hadn’t exactly snuck out either. I cleaned myself up in her tiny bathroom before letting her know I’d see myself out. She hadn’t seemed upset when she’d gone to take a shower, but I’d been too cowardly to wait around to make sure she was okay. Now, I was kicking myself for that.
What if she didn’t come in today? She would be well within her rights to file a harassment claim, or even something worse if she felt like I’d pressured her into sex. I could lose her as an assistant and as a model, and that would be the very least of the consequences my rash actions could have. It wasn’t outside the realm of possibility that she could sue me, drag my name through the mud. And it’d be all my fault.
When Jean had told me to behave myself with Sine, she hadn’t meant this, but if she found out what happened, she’d kick me to the curb. She’d always been so proud that I wasn’t one of those asshole artists who kept needing to be bailed out of jail. And while my sexual preferences for BDSM weren’t public knowledge, I didn’t try to hide my membership at Gilded Cage either. I was neither a recluse nor a partier, neither a serial romancer or a life-long bachelor. I didn’t see myself in the tabloids, and I liked it that way.
While I waited to see if Sine would show up, I brought out the photos from our session Friday night and spread them out on the floor so I could see them in relation to each other. I was kneeling next to a particularly evocative one when I heard the door open. I made myself count to ten before raising my head, not wanting to appear too eager to see her. I didn’t want her to get the wrong idea.
“I didn’t realize you’d taken so many of them.”
She wasn’t looking at me, but rather at the pictures, giving me the opportunity to study her without being obvious about it. She didn’t look any different than she had on Friday, except she was back to a pair of dress slacks and a nice blouse rather than her sundress.
“I’ll let you know if I need you to answer any emails personally,” she said as she turned to go. “Your coffee’s on the table.”
“Do you have anything planned for this afternoon?” I sat back on my heels and ignored the voice in the back of my head telling me this was an imprudent idea. To say the least.
“Nothing specific.” Her eyes met mine for a moment, her cheeks growing pink before she glanced away, focusing instead on the cup she held in her hands.
“I’d like you to model for me again.” I rose to my feet but went for my coffee instead of going to her like my body wanted to.
In the silence that followed, a hundred thoughts ran through my mind, everything from her stomping out in a huff, to her calling the cops, to her taking that to mean I wanted her in my bed. The memory of what she felt like made my stomach tighten, but I knew it couldn’t happen again. Once could be written off as an impulsive mistake. Twice...that would be the start of a pattern I didn’t want.
“I would be open to that,” she said slowly, her finger tracing around the lid of her cup. “But we need to have some rules in place.”
I nodded, took a long gulp of my iced cafe latte before speaking. “That’s a good idea. Did you have anything specific in mind?”
“Two.”
I blinked. If she had two rules ready so quickly, it meant she’d already been thinking about this. I was surprised but not displeased.
“It has to stay profe
ssional between us,” she said, her voice steady. “What happened the other night, it can’t happen again. I’m your assistant, and you’re my boss. A model and photographer. Nothing more.”
I nodded, relieved that she wasn’t going to blow things up because of a moment of shared weakness. “I want the same thing.”
“And no nudity,” she said, eyes darting up to my face again. “It doesn’t matter that you’ve already seen...” She lifted her chin. “I won’t be doing anything like that.”
“Agreed.”
She nodded once and then turned away. “I’ll let you know when I order lunch, and we can get started after that.”
I couldn’t have hoped for a better outcome, I thought as I watched her disappear into her office. No awkward silences or wondering what the other one was thinking. No worries that she’d gotten the wrong idea, no demands or threats of legal action. It should have been everything I could have wanted.
Then why did the thought of touching her again after lunch make me feel elated? That I’d have a reason to feel her soft skin against my palms. That every single idea I had for today’s session morphed into what it would be like to tie her up, pose her, not for photographs, but so that I could lose myself in her again.
She was right to want this to stay professional, but I wasn’t so sure of my own motives anymore.
10
Sine
I’d always been a bit in awe of artists, being able to picture things and then create them. Painters, sculptures, authors, photographers. Mam had a knack for making all manner of things with a needle and thread. Da was a genius with a knife for carving, and a couple of my brothers had the same skill. My sister won every baking contest she entered.
Me? I could organize and schedule. Some talent.
Alix...he could visualize things I couldn’t even dream. I might not have understood what he saw in me, but I’d seen the photos he’d taken, and I couldn’t deny that they were special. Though I knew that was more due to Alix’s talent than me being his subject.
Which meant I was a part of his art in a way, and that made me see modeling for him in a whole new way.
None of that changed how his touch made my skin hum or the fact that I couldn’t stop thinking about what he felt like, smelled like. The things he made me feel.
Like safe.
I’d worn another set of matching bra and panties, these ones white cotton. It’d been a little easier to undress this time, but as I knelt on the blanket and waited for him to tie me up, the anticipation racing along my nerves was more intense than before.
He used leather this time, connecting my wrists to my ankles tight enough that I didn’t have much in the way of mobility. It forced my back to arch, putting my breasts on display, which was made even more embarrassing by the fact that my nipples were hard little points, easily visible. And I couldn’t even blame it on temperature because the lights were hot enough to make me appreciate not having to wear more clothes.
When he finished, he walked around in front of me, and I tilted my head back so I could see his face. He leaned down and rested his hand on the side of my face. His thumb moved across my lower lip, and it took all my self-control not to lick it.
Dammit.
This was going to be harder than I thought.
By the time I got home, my skin felt like it was on too tight, my body flushed. I felt antsy, like I couldn’t quite sit still. I paced as I waited for my dinner to heat up, but even as I ate, I fidgeted. Fingernails tapping against the table. Chopsticks stabbing into the reheated rice.
I just couldn’t relax.
I must have tossed and turned for an hour before I accepted the fact that I wouldn’t get any sleep unless I did something else to relax.
It was far too easy to recall his face in my mind, see his strong jaw and those smoky eyes. Easy to pretend that the hand pushing up my t-shirt, and then sliding under my panties, was his. My own fingers were so much smaller than his, but I let my mind fill in the blanks, change the way I knew things were.
His lips made their way down my stomach, his fingers brushing over the thin red curls, then dipping between my folds. I gasped, arched my back. As his finger entered me, his thumb moved over my swollen clit, sending wave after wave of pleasure through me.
“You have no idea how beautiful you are, do you?” His voice was low, full of desire. “Come for me, Sine. Come, and then I’ll taste you. I want my mouth on you, want to bring you pleasure. I want to bury my cock in your tight pussy, fuck you until neither of us can see straight.”
The pressure on my clit was nearly unbearable, riding that thin line that only he seemed able to find. His free hand slid up to cover my breast, fingers rolling then twisting my nipple. Pleasure and pain blended together, and I writhed against his touch, wanting, needing...
I came with a shout, barely holding back his name. It was bad enough I’d been fantasizing about him and touching myself. Saying his name would make more of it than I wanted. He was attractive. Any straight woman or gay man could see that for themselves. It was no different than picturing another good-looking man. That’s all there was to it. Nothing more.
All that existed between Alix and me was a business relationship that was a touch more complicated than most.
11
Alix
I always thought of myself as the sort of person who owned their actions. If I did wrong, I didn’t try to hide it. I accepted the consequences and tried to make better decisions.
Which was why I was feeling like shit for having taken things too far with Sine. And even worse for not being able to stop myself from thinking about her yesterday when my libido had gotten the better of me. When I’d gotten home, I had the shower so cold that I’d almost been shivering, but it hadn’t done a thing to diminish my throbbing erection. I’d known that only one thing could do that, and I hadn’t been able to hold back. It had been her face I’d seen as I wrapped my hand around my cock. Her voice I’d heard saying my name, heard moaning in pleasure.
And it had been her name I’d said when I’d reached my climax.
The guilt I’d felt when I was done hadn’t stopped me from dreaming about her. Or from thinking about her almost non-stop all morning when she was in the office. I had an all afternoon meeting with Jean to discuss my new line, so there’d be no modeling today, but as I worked on what I was going to tell Jean, Sine was in my head. Usually, when I had an idea, I saw around the model, but with this one, she was key.
Jean was waiting at our usual restaurant, already munching on her favorite appetizer. I barely sat down when our regular waiter brought over a bottle of Merlot. I wasn’t much for day drinking, but Jean and I always indulged in some wine with our business lunches. I was especially grateful for that today. I needed something to help me relax. My cock would’ve preferred a whole other course of action, but sex with Sine was off the table.
And my word choice, of course, made me think of spreading Sine out on the table, and I was glad that the way I sat kept anyone from seeing that just the thought of her was enough to make me hard.
“You look tired,” Jean observed. “I hope that’s a good thing. I’ve had two gallery owners call me, wanting to schedule a showing for Alix Wexler’s new line-up.”
“I have one,” I said and was pleased to see her relieved smile. “I tried a couple things and got inspired. I plan on talking to Sine tomorrow about signing the release papers.”
Jean’s eyes narrowed. “Sine? As in Sine McNiven? The nice Irish girl I hired to be the assistant you didn’t want?”
I took a drink of my wine and then swiped a stuffed mushroom from Jean’s plate. “You were right.”
“Did you choke on those words?” Jean asked with an amused smile. “They have to be hard to swallow.”
“Fine, fine.” I shook my head, laughing. “Enjoy your moment.” I slid a manila envelope across the table. “Then take a look at these.”
She opened the envelope after the waiter took our orders, taking her
time to really look at each of the dozen photos I carefully selected. It was Jean’s usual practice. She needed to have an idea of what I wanted to do so she could sell it the best way.
“You had your assistant model for you.” She started through the pictures a second time, shaking her head. “Didn’t I tell you to behave yourself with her? She’s twenty-three years old, Alix. What were you thinking?”
I frowned. “I was thinking that Sine’s an adult who can make her own choices.”
Jean put the photos back into the envelope. “If she decides you pressured her into taking those, you could end up in serious legal trouble.”
“I made sure the lines were clear,” I said, feeling like a little boy defending himself. “And I’m taking care of the legalities.”
“Will the new line be as erotic as these?” Jean asked, her tone strangely disapproving.
She’d never asked that before, not like that. When Jean and I had first sat down more than a decade ago to discuss how our professional relationship was going to work, she told me that she’d never try to direct my art, that she would only market it as I created it.
“You’ve never had a problem with my subject matter in the past,” I said mildly. “Why the change?”
Jean leaned forward. “She’s not a model, Alix. She’s a good kid.”
“Is this where I’m supposed to promise that my intentions are pure and that I won’t corrupt her?” I ran my finger around the rim of my glass.
“Could you promise any of that honestly?” Jean countered.
I considered her question. Were my intentions for Sine pure? Was I going to corrupt her if I followed through on my series idea?
I knew there were two ways to answer those questions, and they all depended on whether or not I could maintain the professional boundaries that Sine and I had set in place.
