“You’re sure?” I nodded. “Not just about this stuff,” he said nodding toward the items on the wall, “But about us… doing this? You know…”
I bit back a grin. I’d never seen him tongue tied with words. I found it endearing. “You mean have sex? Yes, I’m sure.” I wanted to tell him he wasn’t the only one who found someone sexy around there, but decided to save it for another time.
Brad leaned in and almost kissed me, but instead playfully nibbled at the side of my neck. I drew in a long breath between my teeth and shut my eyes when he left a trail of wet kisses over my collarbone and down the center of my chest until his head was buried in my cleavage. My skin tingled as he licked at the line between my breasts. He wrapped his arms around me to unclasp my strapless bra, which fell onto my lap at once. The cool air of the studio perked my nipples.
He brushed it off my legs to lean in and run the tip of his tongue around one of my budding nipples. I shuddered and suppressed a little moan, sucking my lower lip between my teeth. I felt the tips of his fingers grazing the skin around my other breast before he finally gave it a pinch. I squealed and jerked in the chair, even more so when his mouth closed around my other breast and he started to teasingly suck.
Instinctively, I opened my legs a bit wider and pressed my chest upward. My entire chest flushed a crimson red as Brad messaged my breasts. Then a trail of kisses ran down my stomach and the tops of my legs before he stood up to get the riding crop off the wall. He walked in front of me with a devious smirk, slapping the crop lightly on the open palm of his hand.
My skin was on fire—electric and buzzing with excitement. I could still feel his wet kisses cooling in the air as I looked up at him with eager eyes.
“Bet this is something you’re familiar with.” He reached out and pressed the crop against my lips, motioning for me to remain silent.
I held my breath. If he was going to use this on me, then it was real; this was really happening. I was really in a New York City studio with Brad Hastings, getting hot and heavy, experimenting in the scariest and sexiest moment of my life. I struggled to comprehend everything. It all seemed like a fantasy, but when I felt the tip of the riding crop twirling in circles on my stomach I was quickly shocked back to reality.
He lifted the crop and lightly tapped the tops of my thighs. He tapped again, a bit harder. On the third time, he got a wince out of me. When he had talked about whipping me I imagined the long whip I posed with licking my back, but not this. Then I realized what I envisioned would be much, much more painful and I was glad he was easing me in.
He lifted the crop higher and gave my legs a good smack. Then another. And another. He lifted it even higher and came down with a swoosh of air, hitting me harder than before. I to cried out. I clenched my teeth and felt another hit just as hot tears sprang to the corners of my eyes. The riding crop fell on the floor with a clatter, but I was too distracted by the feeling of Brad’s lips on my knee to care.
He kissed slowly up my leg, leaving warm kisses on each spot the riding crop had struck. It was sexy, soothing, and painful all at the same time. Then, he did the same on my other leg, starting at the knee, but he didn’t stop at the top of my leg. Instead, he kissed inward until I felt his hot breath on my center through the fabric of my thong.
“Oh,” I breathed with a whimper.
Brad pushed my legs apart and shoved my panties to the side, dipping his head in to push his face into me. I shuddered and curled my fingers into the palms of my hands, drawing in a rattled breath to hold in my lungs. His warm, wet tongue ran along my wetness before slipping in just a bit. My leg jolted, earning a little smirk from Brad as he looked up at me from between my thighs. Then he trailed the tip of his tongue up my wetness and circled around my sensitive nub.
He tilted his head up and licked me again once before standing up and wiping his face clean with the back of his hand. I was so turned on it was almost painful the way my muscles trembled with excitement. The way he left me with just one teasing little lick was enough to drive anyone crazy. I knew he had done everything on purpose. His actions were carefully orchestrated to make me a shaking mess.
He eased my wrists out of the rope cuffs only to reposition the stool near the wall so he could sit on it and drape me over his lap.
“Hold onto this bar,” he told me.
I grabbed onto the bar affixed to the wall near some chains for some semblance of balance, my ass naked and exposed entirely to him. His hand ran up the back of my leg and cupped my cheek, kneading the flesh before giving me three quick smacks that echoed throughout the quiet room.
I yelped and pulled away until he held onto my waist so I wouldn’t fall off his lap. The tip of his finger ran right next to my opening before smacking my ass again, this time with five spankings that packed more power than the first three. He pinched the flesh and I wondered if he was admiring the red marks on my fair skin.
He grabbed me by the wrists and roughly helped me straddle him. His thumb pressed at the center of my mouth, but he didn’t smear the lipstick.
“Not like this,” he reminded me as he grabbed my hips and forced them down until I felt his hardness push up against me through the fabric of my thong and his pants. I moaned deep and heavy as he pressed against me. “Move your hips.”
At once, I pushed them down and started moving them in a circle with panty breathy moans.
“Stop, climb off and bend forward, hands on the stool.” He ordered as he stood up and guided my hips. I followed his orders as he unbuckled his pants and pulled his hard shaft. He looked at me, bare breasts dangling enticingly underneath me as my body bent over. He held onto himself, slowly jerking as he walked forward and pressed his tip against my mouth.
“Suck it,” he demanded.
I eagerly opened my mouth as he eased it in all the way, my eyes starting to water as my lips sealed around his girth. He pulled it out and watched me struggle to catch my breath before holding the base of his shaft and rubbing the head over my lips, smearing my red lipstick.
“Go on,” he urged. I opened my mouth a little more, this time prepared for him to thrust his entire length inside, but he didn’t. He slid it in slowly, inch by inch, until I closed my mouth around it at the base and drew in a deep breath through my nose. He felt large and heavy against my tongue as I flattened it along his shaft.
Slowly, he started thrusting and held onto my shoulders, only picking up the pace once he had wrapped my hair around his hand and started to tug. Eventually he was thrusting hard and fast, stopping briefly only so I could catch my breath. He finally pulled out and tilted my head up to look at me, smirk etched across his face.
He held up a finger, motioning for me to wait as he walked into the back room. “Come in here,” he finally called out. I straightened up, slightly confused, before turning to walk into the room. I noticed he had put a condom on as he sat in the chair, which only meant one thing. My heart pounded against my ribs as I thought about what was about to happen.
He motioned for me to walk over to him. I gulped nervously and my breath completely stopped as he grabbed my hands, easing me onto his lap. His lips landed against mine passionately, placing his hands on my hips and pushing me down until he pressed against my entrance.
“Ready?” he muttered against my kiss.
I nodded. In an instant he pushed me down, his full length pushing inside me at once. I cried out and threw my head back. He was so long and thick it was almost painful, but it felt so, so good. Scorching tingles fluttered down the backs of my thighs as I felt him fill me up inside. He guided my hips to roll up and down, his hardness thrusting in and out. The quiet room filled with the rhythmic slapping of our skin as I repeatedly plopped down on his lap.
“You’re absolutely gorgeous.” He whispered against my ear. His hot words sent my heart racing.
Our pace picked up until my breasts bounced wildly with my rocking hips. I let out tiny breathy moans, eyes shut, nails digging into the flesh of his shoulders as
I felt him stab deeper into me.
I plopped back down on him with a little yelp, forcing his entire length inside. My hips rolled and rotated in tiny circles. I smiled as I earned a pleasured whimper from him. He pushed his hips up so hard I squealed and nearly fell off his lap.
“Fuck!” I screamed, feeling him fill me even more as he thrust his hips up. I moaned and pushed down against him. My eyes clenched tight and I gripped the back of the chair so tightly my knuckles turned white until I collapsed forward, body tense and shaking. The orgasm wracked my body until I fell against him in a trembling heap.
Brad let out his own guttural moan as he pushed up in short quick thrusts. His hands clasped onto my thighs. I winced when his nails dug into my flesh. He let out a loud breath as his thrusting hips stilled, eyes staring into mine. I sat on top of him with heaving breath as we held each other for a few minutes and waited for our heart beats to slow.
“Now…” I started as I drew in another deep breath, “Now I feel dirty.” I laughed as I looked down at our sweaty bodies.
“In more ways than one.” Brad laughed. “We actually have a shower here,” He leaned back to look in my eyes and smirked. “Since I got you all dirty, how about I help you clean up?”
Behind the scenes of a runway show, I sat completely still in front of the mirror with framed lights as my hair and makeup were done. I had plenty of time to reflect on my wild night with Brad. It was the first time I had really sat and thought about it so deeply. After that night my life had gotten significantly busier with the full onset of New York Fashion Week in full swing.
I had loved every minute of that night with Brad, but the longer my thoughts went on the less sure I became of this whole model life being right for me. It was nothing bad– I didn’t feel unsafe, unwelcome or pressured. I had been doing everything I dreamed of doing in the big city and then some. I just didn’t feel like myself.
“Chloe,” one of the women working the backstage area called a few feet away from me. She looked rushed and stressed. The woman beckoned me over to make sure the hair and makeup were good to go before shoving a miniscule dress in my hands along with a pair of sky-high stilettos to match.
“You’re on in three!” the woman said before turning on her heel and storming off to find the next model. I quickly but carefully got into the dress and slipped on the heels to join the queue of models waiting to take the runway. I had to keep my mind clear so I wouldn’t miss my cue, much less risk tripping down the runway or walking incorrectly.
The moment I was shoved to the center and the bright lights hit me, everything washed away. Only the dress, the shoes I wore, and the runway existed. I felt more in my element than ever, like I had finally found the place I belonged to. It was something I first experienced when I finally fell into a photo shoot, usually with Brad’s strategic and gentle coaxing. As I placed my hand on my hip and looked forward before turning to walk back up the runway, I felt spectacular. I felt dazzling.
When I was pushed to the queue waiting to go back out for the finale, the feeling didn’t fade. It wasn’t until the show was over and I was washing off the face the makeup artist painted on that I started to come down from my fashion-high.
That was when it hit me– modeling wasn’t what made me think I wasn’t being myself. It was the city life I had adopted, more specifically my adventures with Brad. I ran a brush through my hair intent on pulling it into a ponytail, wondering if what I was doing with Brad was morally correct. Had my mother been right all along? Was there nothing good in the city? The guilt swelled up in my chest again, coming up as a burning ball in my throat. I was choked up.
It didn’t matter that my pictures had been making a lot of money. It only mattered to the extent that my parents and siblings were now in a better position than they were months ago before I left Iowa. The thing that killed me the most was wondering if my family would even want the money if they find out how I was making it. I hated thinking my stint with Amorous Productions would fill them with shame. The last thing I wanted was to disappoint them.
I walked to the bathroom and locked myself in a stall, leaning back against the door to take a few deep breaths. I imagined the look on my mother’s face upon seeing a photo form one of my shoots. The thought mortified me. I busted out of the stall, splashed water on my face, and walked straight out of the venue in search of fresh air. Being around the crowd, the hype, and the busy bodies wasn’t helpful. I turned on the first street and leaned against the wall of a building, looking up at the sky as I tried to calm my nerves.
“How am I supposed to do this?” I wondered aloud. It seemed impossible to reconcile something I truly enjoyed with all the ‘values’ that were instilled on me since I was a little girl. I felt guilty not just for participating, but also for taking pleasure in the types of things I was sure my mother would never approve of.
I shut my eyes and pushed everything out of my mind. This wasn’t something to solve tonight. The end of New York Fashion Week was fast approaching and my schedule was busier than ever. I needed to get a good night’s rest.
The final day of fashion week felt like it came in the blink of an eye. Between fittings, run-throughs, shows, and meetings it seemed like I barely had time to breathe. Finally, the last show came along and went off without a hitch– except I had been invited to, and was expected to attend, an after-party. Despite my exhaustion, I was totally excited for it save for the bit of guilt I hadn’t yet managed to get rid of.
And along with that guilt came Brad, who had decided to go to the after-party at my side. I was stunned and nervous the entire time I cleaned up after the fashion show and even more so on the ride back to Amorous Productions, where I was going to get ready. We were going to meet my roommates a couple of blocks away from the party to arrive together, only the three of them didn’t know what they were in for. They still didn’t know about everything that had happened between Brad and I. As much as I wanted to talk to them about it despite being scared, our busy Fashion Week schedules had made it impossible.
I paired a long sleeved, black crop top with high-waisted black-and-white striped slacks. I wore simple, black leather pumps and let my chocolate brown hair fall loose over my shoulders, my gorgeous emerald green eyes stood out with simple makeup. As I looked in the mirror to make sure everything was in place, Brad came up behind me and handed over a pair of black, round sunglasses.
“It’s nighttime,” I told him blankly.
He chuckled. It was one of those moments where it showed how much of a newbie I was and he, inevitably, found it charming. “It’s for looks, not sun protection.”
I took them from his hand and looked at them. They had silver trim and were much more glamorous in a simple way than the sunglasses people from Iowa sported on sunny days. Taking his word for it, I put them on and turned to check out my reflection.
“You look like a model,” he whispered in my ear, placing his hands on my waist and kissing the back of my shoulder, exposed by the crop top’s wide neckline.
I had to agree. The kind of person I would see in magazines was now in the mirror in front of me. I felt proud for having chosen the outfit on my own. It felt like the first majorly fashionable thing I had picked and purchased since getting into this world. Tilting my head, I noted how the pants made my already mile-long legs look even longer. The pants cinched at my waist, accentuating just how small it was and showing off the sexy curve of my hips. My breasts were easily appreciated in the top without baring too much cleavage, or hardly any at all. I looked chic and effortlessly sexy.
“I do,” I finally agreed with him.
Brad turned my face to him and gave me a peck on the lips. “You’re coming into your own.”
I smiled faintly, wondering if he was right. Maybe everything had felt so confusing and the guilt had welled up inside of me because I was exploring my true self. Maybe that true self really didn’t have a place back in the Iowa.
“It’s all a learning process,” Brad muttere
d, kissing me again and pulling my body flush against his.
“My roommates will be waiting,” I reminded him.
He nodded and took my hand, the two of us leaving the studio to go meet up with the three models eagerly waiting for me and my mystery companion. When the two of us walked up to Nadine, Sarah, and Caroline it took a moment for all three of them to piece things together. Brad and I weren’t holding hands, but we did look close and I knew that wasn’t something my roommates would miss. Even if Brad and I pulled the, “We were just working together,” card the three women would inevitably know what was going on.
I did my best to act normal, greeting them and chatting away about Fashion Week as Brad alternated between walking beside me and slightly falling behind. Every once in a while he would make a comment, agreeing to a compliment one of the three women gave me, that made everyone briefly go silent. Other times he would brush his arms against mine and we would exchange glances. We were never overt, but it wasn’t something we would have successfully kept hidden.
The walk was even more awkward than I had imagined it would be. Sure enough, when we arrived at the party’s venue I was immediately hauled off to the nearest ladies’ room.
SHOOT: A Novel Page 10
