Dark Frame

by Iris Blaire

  This is what I will have to deal with for the rest of my life. Any man who finds out that I used to pose for an erotic magazine, I’ll have to deal with wondering if they label me as a little slut in their head.

  I take a couple of deep breaths. This isn’t a problem you need to worry about, Evan.

  Calming down, I see that something has been placed outside of my door. I walk toward it and bend down, picking up the harvest-themed bouquet, sniffing the bright yellow blossoms and burnt-orange lilies. Attached is a note:

  Down in the quad. –D

  My heart skips a beat, followed by a flush of anger, and then confusion. Of course my curiosity won’t allow me to ignore it. I’m secretly desperate to know what he wants. I find a cup of water and leave the flowers in my room, and then hurry downstairs.

  Dallas sits on a stone park bench outside of the dorm hall. He’s dressed in jeans and a black pea coat, an ash-colored scarf wrapped around his neck.

  I’ve never seen him dressed like this. California doesn’t really allow the opportunity for cold-weather clothing. He looks sexy, and intelligent, and everything I know that he is. Everything that makes me want to slowly unravel that scarf and kiss the hollow of his throat.

  Instead, I cross my arms and say, “Don’t you have better things to do than wait out in the cold by a Harvard dorm?”

  He smiles. The tip of his nose is red. I wonder how long he’s been waiting.

  “We’re going,” he says.

  “Where?”

  “Back to Boston,” he says. “I figure you haven’t actually given yourself the time to see the sites, and I know the city well enough to give you a tour.”

  What the hell does he think he’s doing? I can’t go see the sites of Boston with him, my ex. I need to get over him. And I need to try extra hard, especially after today’s shoot. Spending any amount of time with him will just make things more confusing. He knows that.

  “I really have to study,” I tell him.

  “Do you have a test tomorrow?” he asks.

  “Well, no.”

  “Then you don’t have to study.”

  Heat bubbles in my chest. “Don’t act like you don’t know how this field is. Because you do. You know how hard I am working here. You know what this means to me.”

  His expression stays perfectly cool. “I know exactly what this means to you, but considering that in less than a week I am heading back to Costa Rica for the rest of the year, I figured you’d be willing to give me just a little bit of time.”

  “Time for what, exactly?”

  His eyes grow soft, and I feel as though he’s looking right into me, seeing all of these fiery, confusing feelings that I still have for him.

  And then he says, “Time to prove to you how much I still love you.”

  Britain

  I would give anything to have Evan at dinner with me when A.J. and four more of his cronies walk into the dining room.

  At least Evan would mutter, “What the fuck?” But the models’ conversations fall to silence so quickly, it’s like someone dead just walked into the room.

  “Good evening!” he says brightly. Too brightly. “I hope all of you are looking forward to me overseeing your performances for the rest of your time in this excellent manor.”

  I catch Jaime’s gaze. His eyes are wide as he stares at me intensely. No, I didn’t know about this, I try and communicate. And yes, I’m scared shitless.

  A.J. being here can’t mean anything remotely good.

  While A.J.’s new assistants—all young men dressed in black—sit on the other end of the table and begin serving themselves, A.J.’s eyes find mine, and he hooks his finger, motioning for me to follow him. I take a deep breath and stand, feeling everyone’s gaze as they stare at me.

  I follow him out of the dining room and into the foyer, and he shuts the huge double doors behind him so that we’re alone.

  “Do you know why I’m here?” he asks. I know he’s attempting to keep the tone of his voice moderately vague, like he’s trying to hide his emotions from me.

  Probably because he’s really, really pissed.

  “You’re unhappy,” I say straightly.

  He nods slowly. “So unhappy, in fact, that I’m pulling you off the issue.”

  I should have expected that, but the punch to the gut is so hard that it takes me a couple of seconds to remember how to breathe. “Pulling me off the issue,” I repeat.

  “The men with me are photographers from other magazines that my company owns. I deemed it necessary to pull them off of their projects in order to fix the one you’ve so royally fucked up.”

  There’s no way that this man is going to intimidate me. My hands clench into fists at my sides and I say through gritted teeth. “I beg to differ.”

  He releases a stark, harsh laugh. “Is that so? I’m not for your sad attempts to make cheap, soft-core art with my magazine,” he nearly growls. “As of now, you will be watching and taking note of my instructions, since apparently it’s impossible for you to take directions over email. And then maybe, maybe when I’ve thought about it more, I’ll let you photograph a part of the next issue under supervision.”

  My blood boils, and I do everything I can to harness the scream of rage lodged in my throat. I don’t even give him the satisfaction of a nod. I just glare at him until he says, “I’m glad we’re at an understanding.” He spins on his heel and returns to the dining room.

  Taking deep gulps of air, I pull out my phone to call Evan. But before I press send, I realize that there is nothing she’s going to be able to do for me. Instead, I’ll just cause her unnecessary worry while she is trying to study, because this most definitely means that A.J. is going to demand that she and Dallas have actual sex during a shoot.

  I shove my phone back into my pocket and hurry up the stairs.

  Once in my room, I take a bath, hoping that my anger fizzles to the point where I won’t try to punch through a wall or burst into tears. The latter would be worse. When signing the contract, it never occurred to me that something like this would happen when I gave up control.

  I was so blindsided.

  I should have hired a lawyer.

  What’s worse than my work being taken from me is my work being mutilated.

  I can’t keep thinking about this. Not right now.

  I dry off and change into a flimsy cami and yoga pants. I towel off my hair and comb through it. When I open the door to leave, Jaime is standing right there, leaning against my door frame.

  I nearly cry out in surprise, clutching my heart. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m here for your next apology,” he says casually.

  I frown.

  “Give me your glasses,” he asks, “And turn around.”

  I hesitate. Nothing inside me is satisfied with the notion that I trust him already. I slide off my glasses. “I’m not really in the mood,” I say as I turn around.

  His hands cup my shoulders, and a shiver runs down my back. “I promise it will be worth your while.”

  “I’m out of work,” I say coolly.

  “I heard. What a cocksucker.”

  “There’s nothing I can do about it,” I tell him.

  Suddenly a piece of silky fabric is thrown over my eyes. I curse. “What are you doing?”

  “Calm down, it’s just one of my ties.”

  “I mean, what are you doing?”

  “Remember when I was supposed to lead you to your surprise birthday party?”

  “And you pushed me in the fucking pool?” I finish. I’m beginning to panic now.

  His hands rest against my waist. “I’m apologizing for that,” he says into my ear.

  I swallow. “I don’t… I don’t know. This house is huge and has lots of places where I could fall to my death.”

  He chuckles. “I need you to trust me. Let me show you that you’re safe with me now.”

  I nod uneasily, still unsure if I’m making the right decision. Before I let him move me, I
ask, “Tell me why you did it first.”

  “Oh, that’s easy. Because Cameron told me to.”

  “God, you guys are such dicks.”

  He laughs and pulls me against his chest. We begin to walk. “Have you talked to him recently?”

  “Me? No. The bulk of our communicating is on Facebook. It usually consists of me calling out his dumb political posts as fallacy.”

  He laughs at this too. The boy does laugh a lot. I could get used to it.

  “Stairs,” he says.

  I take a step up, but Jaime does most of the work, his large, strong hands shifting all over my body to project me toward a specific destination. I blindly reach out in front of me to stable myself, but my hands never run into any walls or banisters. Midway up the stairs, he wraps one arm around my waist and cups the back of my thigh with his hand. A surge of pleasure races through my abdomen.

  Finally, we reach level ground. A few more steps and I listen as Jaime unlocks a door. He pushes me into a room.

  His bedroom.

  He leaves me to shut the door behind us and lock it.

  My entire body shakes in waiting. “Can I…” I reach up to take my blindfold off and he captures my wrists.

  “Not yet,” he whispers into my ear. His tongue swipes against my neck and I gasp. “I’ve been thinking about it,” he says huskily. “About your proposal.”

  “What proposal?”

  “Playing with you.”

  I shudder at his breath on my neck.

  “You have no idea how much I’d enjoy a night of abandon with you. How… taboo it would feel.”

  “What, getting to fuck a girl you considered a sister for most of your life isn’t normal?”

  He presses a finger against my lips to hush me. “I need you to promise me something. Promise me that this will stay between us. That your family will never find out.”

  I open my mouth to say yes, because the way his hands are toying with my waistband is killing me, but the question is too strong in my mind. “Why do you care so much? I’m twenty-two… they don’t have control over me anymore.”

  “Have you told your parents about the magazine?”

  “Of course I haven’t.”

  “And why’s that?”

  “Because I’m not insane. If I told my dad I was using the camera he bought for me to shoot porn, he’d disown me.”

  “And your parents have the best idea out of anyone of all the shit I’ve gotten into in my life. If they find out that… that…”

  “You’re one of my many lays…”

  He pauses. I caught him off guard.

  “Oh please,” I continue, “Did you really think you’d be the lucky guy to take my virginity?”

  “Of course not.”

  “I lost it at sixteen by the way. A month after my first kiss. Your little Miss Innocent wasn’t so innocent after all.”

  “You what? Who? Who was it?”

  I spin to face him, leaning in close to where I think his mouth is. “Like I’d tell you.” I run my finger down the front of his chest. “I won’t promise to keep it our secret if you decide that you want to make things interesting. But you should trust that it’s not in my best interest.” I’m totally fucking with him. I’d never tell my parents. They have no reason to know anything about my personal life.

  We’re at a standstill, my finger hooked in the waistband of his jeans. Suddenly he pushes me backward. My shoulder blades connect with a wall, leaving me breathless.

  “Let me see you,” I gasp.

  “Not yet,” he responds. “Trust me. Lift your arms up.”

  I do as I’m told. He lifts my cami up and over my head until I’m only in my yoga pants and a white lace bra. He groans, cupping my breasts and kissing the hollow of my throat. I arch my back, and he reaches behind me and unsnaps my bra. When I let it fall to the floor, he kisses down my chest and nips at the top of my breast. Suddenly, his hot tongue is on my nipple, swirling and sucking, and I release a whimper.

  “Better than I could have ever imagined,” he says slyly against my skin.

  I bite down on my bottom lip as I smile, resting my head against the wall and allowing him complete control to explore my body. He tugs my yoga pants down and I kick them away, and then he pulls me from the wall. I feel his presence as he circles me, dropping to his knees behind me.

  His fingers start at the back of my knee and trail up my thigh. He cups my ass and squeezes lightly. “Fuck,” he breathes. “You have no idea how long I’ve been dreaming about your ass.”

  I giggle. “Really? I don’t think it’s that great.”

  “Brit,” he palms it gently. “It’s pretty remarkable.” Suddenly his lips are pressed to the back of my leg, right where my butt meets my thigh. I release a shiver as he nips lightly at the skin, my knees almost buckling. He holds me up. “I hope you’re patient,” he mutters.

  “Why’s that?”

  “Because I plan on slowly enjoying every inch of you.”

  I groan involuntarily as he nips at my ass again. His hand presses against the inside of my thigh, and I separate my legs just enough to allow his hand to travel up, the tips of his fingers brushing against my covered slit.

  “I can tell how wet you are already.”

  Oh, God. I can’t believe we’re actually doing this.

  He crawls around to the front of me. I hold onto his shoulders as he tugs down my panties at an achingly slow pace. He plants a kiss on my bare mound before slipping them all of the way down my legs, inhaling audibly.

  He pushes my legs until they’re shoulder-width apart, gently grazing my slit with the tips of his fingers before pushing them past my folds. I dig into his shoulders as two of his fingers slip into my pussy.

  He places a kiss against my thigh. “How about you indulge me in some of those fantasies?”

  “Now?” I whimper.

  His thumb grazes my clit, and my knees almost buckle again. Jaime holds me up. “This is my apology, after all.”

  I guess his timing couldn’t be more perfect.

  I cup the back of his neck for support. “The day you stole my panties and hung them on the fence, as pissed as I was, it left me wondering—if you did it because… because….”

  He chuckles against my leg. “I wanted bury my face in them or something?”

  “Something.”

  “And?” he asks.

  “And…” I inhale a deep breath and stare into the darkness of my blindfold, wondering if telling him this secret is such a good idea. But I press forward. “That night, I fantasized about you coming into my room.” I’m glad I can’t see him for this next part. “I touched myself to the thought of you eating me out.”

  He groans.

  “I had my first orgasm that night.”

  “Fuck, Brit. I thought I couldn’t be more turned on by you.” With his fingers still inside of me, his lifts my right leg over his shoulder with his free hand. “I think fulfilling that fantasy is way overdue.”

  “Please,” I moan.

  His tongue darts out and finds my clit. I cry out, my fingernails raking over his head. His tongue flicks across my nub, and then he sucks, long and hard, his fingers pumping in and out of me.

  “Jaime!” I gasp, arching my back, waves of pleasure building. When he slips his fingers out, his tongue replaces them, probing me gently.

  “Fuck,” I whisper. “Fuck, fuck,” over and over again as he relentlessly tongue-fucks me. I’m not sure how much time passes before he pulls away and kisses the inside of my thigh. Seconds or hours—everything feels upside-down right now. I’m surprised I’m still standing. In fact, I almost fall on my face when he slides my leg from his shoulder and stands, pushing the blindfold from my eyes. I blink into focus.

  “I’m sorry,” I say.

  He kisses me gently. “Why the fuck would you be sorry?”

  The words tumble out of my mouth before I can think them through. “This is the best thing I’ve ever felt in my life—ever—it’s jus
t, really hard for me to get off, so I don’t want you to think—″

  He raises an eyebrow. “Are you kidding me? Are you seriously apologizing for not orgasming fast enough?”

  “Well…” Now I feel stupid. “Yes.”

  “Britain.” He directs me toward the bed. “I would spend all day between your legs to get you off and enjoy every fucking second of it.” He pushes me down and climbs on top of me. “So don’t you dare apologize.”

  “O-okay.”

  He lowers his head and whispers against my throat, “And you taste amazing.”

  I buck my hips against him, and he grins.

  “I need you,” I plead. “I need you to fuck me, Jaime.”

  “Did you have a fantasy about that, too?” he asks in a deep, seductive voice, crawling up to kiss me.

  “Many,” I breathe. “So many.”

  His eyes flash. “Tell me about them.”

  I groan. “Can’t we just do it? I’m dying.”

  “I think you’ll live,” he says flatly. I growl at his patience and I know I’m not getting out of this one. He leans forward and whispers into my ear. “Tell me, Britain, how did I fuck you in your fantasies?”

  I shiver and try to swallow, my mouth suddenly dry. “I always… I always imagined you’d be rough.”

  His gaze shifts to playful, but there is still something delectably dark in it. “How would I take you?”

  “Give me some credit, Jaime. It wouldn’t be the same way every time.”

  He thinks for a moment. “So, you drew me up in your head as being surprising.”

  I try reaching for the zipper on his pants when I realize that he’s only shirtless, but he captures my wrist and holds me down.

  “Did you only have these fantasies while I was being a douche to you, Brit? Because you should probably see a shrink about that.”

  “Oh, shut the fuck up. You’re always being a douche to me.”

  Suddenly, he lifts me and flips me over. I gasp in surprise, listening to the release of his zipper, the shuffling of his jeans sliding down, and the crinkling of the condom package.

  “Was this one of them?” he asks. “Me sneaking into your room in the middle of the night…” his hands run up my thighs and grip my ass. “Touching you for the first time, being mesmerized by how fucking gorgeous you are.”