Tempt Me: A First Class Romance Collection

by Jessica Hawkins

  “If you’re uncomfortable,” Ken says, “try inhaling through your nose and blowing it out your mouth a few times.”

  “I look that bad?” she asks me.

  Ken smiles. “Don’t worry. Even professionals get nervous.”

  Halston waits for me to answer. Just me. I don’t even think she’s trying to make me feel secure about the situation; she genuinely wants me to direct her every move. Ken glances over too. It’s a heady feeling having both of them under my direction.

  “I could put my hand around her throat,” he says. “I saw one like that on your account.”

  She shifts feet. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

  “I won’t do it for real,” Ken says.

  “It’s just that we already did it . . . Finn and I.”

  I love that she wants to protect our pose. And at the same time, she’s the one who wanted this. I was against bringing in a third person, and maybe for that reason, I want to test my authority. “Let’s try it,” I say. “A familiar pose might loosen you up.”

  Her throat ripples with a swallow, but she nods. My dick stirs—not just because she’s submitting, but because she’s submitting to me. Not him. While another man touches her, I’m still the one to command her.

  Ken splays a hand over her collarbone and pins her back to his front. I know what that soft ass feels like pressed against me. Begging for more. Wearing black and white, they’re yin and yang, angel and devil. I take a photo. And another. Ken slides his hand up around her throat.

  “Put your finger in her mouth,” I say.

  He raises his hand to her face. Halston clamps her mouth shut like dropping a gate to keep him out.

  I lower my camera. “Hals.”

  She releases her lip, and Ken sticks the tip of his index finger between her teeth. That’s when I realize—as much as I didn’t want to do this, domineering Halston never fails to excite me. Only now, I’m dominant with her in front of another man.

  How far will she go? How far does she want to go? If her journals are any indication, there aren’t many boundaries, if any.

  “Never mind that,” I say. “Doesn’t look right.”

  Ken takes his hand back, wiping it on his jeans. “Might look better if we were facing each other. Or even if . . .”

  I adjust the aperture. “If what?”

  “She were on her knees.”

  I glance up just in time to catch him shift feet. Halston looks between us, trembling slightly. Her fear is doing something to me. She’s been walking this line for a while by showing me that journal, inviting Ken here, chatting with that stranger on New Year’s Eve. But she won’t do anything without my permission. Without my order. With their silence, their uncertainty as they wait for my answer, my head swims.

  “Undo his pants.”

  Neither of them moves—or objects. If Ken’s uncomfortable with it, he can speak up. He doesn’t. Halston slowly lifts the edge of his shirt, and he takes it from her, holding it up out of the way. She touches the button of his jeans. It takes her a few tries to get it open. She begins to unzip his fly, then looks at me.

  “That’s good,” I say. “Now you can get on your knees.”

  She freezes. Her eyes are as big and gray as ever.

  Ken bites his lip, watching her. He might be gay, but I’m not convinced he’d turn Halston down. Halston senses it too, because her chin trembles.

  I need to know that Halston trusts me. Always. That she’ll submit because she wants to, and not just to anyone. Only me. “All-loved by lovers all,” I tell her.

  I can see the words from her “dark” journal entry about the threesome sinking in. Finally, she gets to her knees. I raise my camera and instruct her. I get her hands at his waistband. I take a photo from behind her. Ken threads his hand through her hair and fists it. He isn’t pretending. She sucks in a breath. I make sure to capture all of it, and since her face isn’t in the shots, she follows me with her eyes.

  “Let’s try the fingers again,” I say.

  Ken cups the side of her face. This time, she leans in and licks his thumb. She pulls it into her mouth and begins to suck, keeping her eyes on me. My heart pumps. I’m both jealous and excited, my erection straining against my zipper.

  “My willing doll,” I murmur, love and arousal churning through me. Her expression softens. We’re speaking another language. Our language. There’s no one else in the room.

  I get closer for my shot. Ken is hard. When a hot, sexy blonde sucks on your thumb, it’s inevitable. I’ve had her hot mouth around my fingers, I know how good it feels.

  Halston’s breasts jiggle under her t-shirt as she gets more into it. One word from me could end this. He’d take his hand back. I get to decide when and where and how far it can go, and that’s what’s getting me off about this.

  I’ve seen enough. Now I want to act.

  “We have what we need,” I say without warning.

  Halston releases Ken’s thumb and sits back on her calves. With one look, I know what she needs. What she’ll always need. None of this means anything to her without me.

  “What?” Ken asks.

  “That’s good for tonight.” I set my camera on the desk and head for the door. “Come with me, and I’ll get you your check.”

  “But we’ve barely started,” he points out.

  I turn back to him. From the corner of my eye, I can see Halston still on her knees, her cheeks bright pink as she practically vibrates. My girl’s ready for me, and I’m losing patience. “And?”

  “Nothing. Never mind,” Ken says when he sees the look on my face. He throws a wave in Halston’s direction. “See you.”

  I open the door, let Ken exit first, then turn back to Halston and point to the couch. “Hands and knees. Now.”

  I walk Ken out, nabbing the envelope with his check from the kitchen table. He says something along the lines of next time, but I’m barely listening. I’m so hard, my ears are ringing. “Yeah, sounds good,” I say, nearly shoving him out the door.

  When I return to the studio, Halston’s in position on the sofa. She looks over her shoulder, tracking me with her eyes. “Is he gone?”

  I come up behind her, reach around, and unbutton her pants.

  “Finn?”

  I yank her jeans and underwear down by their waistbands, just enough to bare her pussy to me. I take out my cock and run it up her wet slit. She must’ve enjoyed that more than she let on.

  “I didn’t want it,” she says, almost pleads. “What I wrote, I thought maybe . . . maybe I might . . . but when his hands were on me, I didn’t want him.”

  I know, baby, I know. “Tell me what you do want.”

  “Just you.”

  She nearly drips onto the crown of my dick. I slam into her, and she jolts forward. “Oh, God,” she cries. “Finn. I only want you to touch me. Only you inside me.”

  I rear back and thrust again, vaulting her face into the cushion. “Tell me you’re mine.”

  “I’m yours,” she says, her cheek pressed against the sofa. “You’re all I need.”

  I mold one hand to the curve of her ass, spreading my fingers over her lower back, and give it to her harder than I ever have. I circle her clit with my two favorite fingers, relishing the way she writhes. I lose myself in her, so much so that I’m not even sure if she comes. I only know I’m not going to wait another second to lay claim to what’s mine. To let her know I’m not going anywhere. To leave my mark for any other fucker who might come sniffing around.

  I hold her hips in place as I give her a few solid drives and erupt inside her, filling her as deeply and completely as I can. I keep her there while I milk myself, making sure to empty every last drop in her.

  She breathes in body-wracking shudders. “You came,” she rasps. “You came inside me.”

  “I know.” I stare down at her. “I don’t want you ever questioning that you’re mine.”

  29

  Finn isn’t expecting me this early, so I make noi
se as I enter the apartment. Even though it’s officially been over a week, I’m not quite used to living with someone yet. “Finn?” I call as I remove my coat.

  “In the bedroom.”

  I find him in front of the mirror, knotting a thin, black tie. “Hel-lo, handsome,” I say.

  He bends his knees for a kiss. “I thought you were doing happy hour.”

  “I changed my mind.” When I’d asked Benny what she was up to tonight, she hadn’t extended an invitation. “I want to come with you instead.”

  He looks at me in the reflection. “To the rehearsal dinner? But it’s a job.”

  “So?”

  “So if you come, they might figure out who you are.”

  “I thought you said the bride was referred to you by a previous client.”

  “She was, but still. If she’s seen our photos, it wouldn’t take much to put it together.”

  I sit on the edge of the bed. I’ve been having thoughts about that. Dangerous thoughts, or maybe exciting ones—I haven’t decided. The night Ken was here changed some things for me. After he left, Finn and I fucked into dawn, all different ways, until he passed out. I, on the other hand, had never felt more alive, more owned, inside and out. I’d read my darkest desires cover to cover, some of it aloud to myself for the first time. When Finn had recited my words to me with Ken’s finger in my mouth, I understood his message—he accepts me as I am, and he’ll always take care of me. And I began to wonder—if I’m lucky enough to have that, why do I care what others think? This is a different time than when my mom had her accident, and my name was news. People’s names are splashed across the tabloids on a daily basis and forgotten within hours. I’m finally starting to see what Finn’s been trying to show me. I’m my own woman. I don’t need to be afraid of my dad or anyone else. My talent draws people in.

  I want to do this as much for him as myself. “What if they did put it together?”

  Finn stops tightening the knot of his tie. “What do you mean?”

  “I think I want to reveal my identity.”

  He turns around. “You think?”

  “No—I do.”

  “That’s, uh . . . a big deal.”

  “I know. I’ve been toying with the idea for a few weeks.”

  “It’s the first I’m hearing of it, though.”

  I wasn’t aware I had to run it by him. Aside from the rules we laid out that first day, I’ve never tried to regulate what he posts or how he presents himself on our account. “Do I need your permission?”

  “It’s something we need to discuss, yes. And take some time to consider.”

  “Actually, since we’re going to hit a hundred-thousand tomorrow, and it’s your birthday, I thought maybe we could do it then. A big reveal to celebrate.”

  He gapes at me. “Just like that? Do you realize . . . I mean, that can’t be undone, Hals. Once it’s out there, that’s it.”

  I blink in disbelief. Finn’s encouraged me for a while to own my sexuality, my weirdness, my words. I would’ve thought he’d like to see me breaking out of my shell. “Yes, I realize that.”

  He checks his watch. “I have to leave, like, now. We can finish this later, but let’s just say it’s not happening tomorrow. No way.”

  I frown, disappointed. This is our project, not his. That’s exactly it, though. I have to respect his opinion if I want the same from him. I won’t let him talk me out of revealing myself, but I can respect that he wants to announce it in his own time. “Okay. I just need to change.”

  “Hals, it’s my job. I don’t think I’m supposed to bring a date.”

  It’s his job. Nothing to do with me, even though I’m half the reason his career is even taking off. “We’ll tell them I’m your assistant,” I say. “I’ll hold your camera, and I won’t eat. They sound like stuffy uptowners anyway. I doubt they’re up on the latest social media trends.”

  “All right.” He runs a hand through his hair, messing it up after he’d clearly styled it. “You have five minutes.”

  I pop up off the bed, grinning, and fix his hair. At the closet, I hurriedly browse through my things. Finn gave me half the space, but it’s cramped. We had to put our summer things in a bin under the bed. I haven’t been to a wedding in ages, but luckily I have no shortage of little black dresses. I pick the simplest one and pair it with heels, jewelry, tights, and a clutch. I come out of the closet a new woman. Well, as new as I can become in five minutes. Okay, eight.

  Finn’s waiting for me in the entryway.

  “Well, well,” he says, smiling. “You’ll get me in trouble for showing up the bride.”

  I roll my eyes. No amount of primping could erase a full day at work. “Thanks for letting me come. It means a lot.”

  He takes my hand. “Don’t think I won’t put you to work.”

  It turns out the bride and groom are over-the-top welcoming and not the least bit old-fashioned. I try to make myself invisible by shadowing Finn, but they insist we sit at the table and partake in grilled salmon and expensive wine. Finn gets up every few minutes to capture speeches and candids. Watching him work in this capacity is like seeing him through new eyes. He’s overdressed, and ridiculously handsome, but it’s his focus and skill with the camera that keeps my attention.

  “What kind of lens is he using?”

  I turn to find that Eric, the groom-to-be, has taken the seat next to mine. “Um. I’m not sure.”

  “I thought you were the assistant.”

  “I mostly just hold things.”

  He laughs. “Sounds like my impending position of husband.”

  “I also have to tell him how great he is or he gets cranky.”

  “Same with Elyse,” Eric says. “You’re writing my job description right now. More wine?”

  I’ve already had a glass, but tonight, we’re celebrating—Eric and Elyse. Finn’s birthday and his burgeoning career. My big decision to come out and one-hundred K. I slide my wineglass over for a refill.

  Elyse walks up, waving an envelope. “For this weekend,” she says, sitting on the other side of me, in Finn’s chair. “Your boss won’t take it until the job is done, but I just want it gone. All the outgoing envelopes of money are giving me anxiety.”

  I smile, slipping the check under the table and into his camera bag. “I’ll hide it from him until Sunday.”

  “So do you guys do many weddings?” she asks.

  The answer is no. In fact, I think this is Finn’s first, but I don’t want to ding his credibility. I drink Pinot Noir while thinking of an answer. “I’m new, so no,” I say. Not technically a lie. “I’ve never done one.”

  “Done one what?” Finn asks, planting his hands on the back of my chair. I look up at him, and he winks.

  “Wedding,” I answer. “As a photographer’s assistant.”

  “That makes two of us,” Finn says.

  “Really?” Elyse looks surprised. “I wouldn’t have thought so. I guess I should’ve asked.” She laughs. “Luckily, we’re easygoing.”

  “Who was it that recommended you again?” Finn asks. “I didn’t catch the name when we were on the phone.”

  “Oh, well, actually . . .” She lowers her voice, leaning in. “That’s not true. I was a little embarrassed to say, but,” she and Eric exchange a glance, “we found you because of your other photos.”

  Wait. Other photos? Mine?

  My jaw drops. I’d wondered fleetingly whether they’d nosed around Finn’s website and found the link to our account . . . but this! A real-life encounter with our followers.

  Finn laughs stiffly. “And your first thought was wedding photographer?”

  “We’re a little non-traditional if you can’t tell,” Elyse says. “We were so sick of fake smiles and tears, awkward prom poses. At the last minute, we came across your work and decided to scrap our other photographer. We want something more original.”

  I look up again, but Finn’s stepped back, outside my line of vision. “Wow. I’m glad,” he says, a
lthough he doesn’t sound glad.

  Oh my God.

  This couple, sitting next to me?

  They’ve seen me half-naked. And they liked what they saw. Enough to hire Finn for the biggest day of their lives.

  Did they like what they read too?

  I take a fortifying sip of wine. It leaves a film that has me smacking my tongue against the roof of my mouth. “How’d you find the account?” I ask, trying not to sound as eager as I feel.

  “I don’t even remember. Do you?” Elyse asks Eric. “Was it Sharon?”

  “I think so,” Eric says. “We have some friends who are obsessed with the latest social media and they’re always unearthing these amazing sites. How’d you get started with that, Finn?”

  It’s making me nervous that I can’t see Finn. It could be my imagination—it must be—but I think tension is rolling off his body. “It just kind of happened,” he says.

  “And how involved is the model, really?” he asks. “She can’t really be that hot and articulate.”

  Elyse reaches across me to slap Eric’s arm. “Hey.”

  “I just know what a rare combo it is,” he backtracks, “since I’m lucky enough to have found it in you. Clearly.”

  I want to squeal. Kick up my feet. Invite the whole dinner table into our conversation. He’s talking about me. Me. I’m sitting right in front of them, and they have no idea.

  “She’s very involved,” Finn says. “All the writing is hers.”

  “Can you give us a hint?” Eric asks. “Is she famous?”

  I swipe my clammy palms down the front of my dress, then pick up my wine glass. I can’t not speak up. This is a sign—I was right earlier. It’s time for me to come out. I stop trying to suppress my smile. “It’s me,” I blurt. “I’m her.”

  Both pairs of eyes turn to me. Probably Finn’s as well. “Halston,” he says under his breath. His hands return to the top of my chair, but I don’t look up. I don’t care if he’s mad. This is my moment. My heart might be racing a mile a minute, the inside of my elbow might be burning, but it’s liberating to say the words to someone other than Finn.