by Iris Blaire
“Hot piece of ass, eh?” He pushes back my shoulders and looks me square in the eye. Even though it’s dark, I can tell he’s waiting for another snarky remark from me. Instead, I kiss him.
He rolls me over until I’m on my back, deepening the kiss. His tongue sweeps across my lower lip before he pulls away. “You know, you don’t have to stop listing off great things about me.”
“Hmmm…” I think before uttering in a breathy voice. “Every time you said the phrase ‘homologous chromosome’ when you lectured at East Park, it made me so horny.”
His lips brush against my ear. “Homologous chromosome.”
“Yes, yes, just like that.”
His voice gets deeper, huskier. “Homologous chromosome.”
“Oh, God.”
“Homologous chromosome.”
“Yes.”
“Homologous chromosome.”
“Yes!”
Suddenly, he groans and pushes away from me, and I bust up laughing. “Please don’t tell me…”
“I can’t help it! You were making orgasm noises and it gave me a hard-on.”
I crack up into the pillow, laughing until my sides hurt, until tears are pouring from my eyes. He grabs my face and kisses me hard on the mouth to shut me up, or maybe my laughing gives him a raging hard-on too.
Lying on top of me, his lips move to my jaw, and then to my neck. This time, I let out a very real, very primal moan.
And it’s nice. To not perform with him. To not expect sex by the end of the night. Like we’re going backwards in time, slipping in a moment that should have been there all along.
Britain
Today is like a bad hangover. Minus the dry mouth and the throwing up.
Everyone is rushing all over the manor, hard at work constructing sets while I’m still in the shower. Even my morning moments with Jaime are rushed as he has to be down in makeup by seven. Today, all models are getting a lesson in what’s to be expected of them over the next two days… and the rest of their time as an EPE model.
I’m supposed to be up and following the new photographers around like a kiss-ass, but truthfully, I no longer give a flying fuck.
Which is nice. And liberating. And I’d probably feel liberated if it weren’t for this dreadful sexual hangover.
My pain is momentarily lifted when I step out of Jaime’s room and see Evan leaving Dallas’s. I point a finger in her direction and cry, “YOU!”
Evan’s eyes dart around before she presses a finger to her lips and hushes me. Dallas follows her out of the room and shuts the door behind him.
“After all of that drama,” I hiss, “You two end up boning anyway?”
“We totally didn’t bone,” Evan says flatly before smirking and raising her eyebrow. “But you sure did.”
I flush.
“How do you know she had sex?” Dallas asks.
“Every time a penis touches Britain, I receive a telepathic notification.”
“Oh,” Dallas says with a straight face. “Well, that explains a lot.”
I desperately attempt to change the conversation. “What are you guys still doing up here? You should have been in hair and makeup, like, three hours ago.”
Evan shrugs. “You’re not downstairs. And I’m not even scheduled for today. I have class, or was supposed to have class.”
She doesn’t know. “Do you not check your email? A.J. sent everyone messages last night with a revamped schedule and an explanation of the situation.”
I tell her everything.
She pales. “Wait, so A.J. Harrison is conducting mine and Dallas’s shoot today? You know what he’s going to want us to do, right?”
“That’s what I’m saying. Both of you will have to slut it up. I mean, seriously. If Adam and Delilah screwing in missionary position got him sky-high, I don’t even want to imagine what he has in store for the two of you.”
“And if I say no?” she asks meekly.
I shrug. “If you say no, then technically you’re breaking contract and he won’t give you your money.”
Dallas rubs her shoulders, a sympathetic expression on his face. Somehow I find the fact that they look terrified to have sex with each other incredibly amusing.
“Okay,” she sniffs. “Okay.”
“So you’re going to go through with whatever he asks of you?”
“Hell no!” she cries. “I’m not going to give that douchebag what he wants. I’m… I’m going to get you your job back.”
Dallas and I simultaneously raise our eyebrows.
“If Dallas is okay with it, I mean.”
“Okay with what?” he asks slowly. Apparently he’s as confused as I am.
Evan sighs impatiently. “Do I have to spell it out?”
“Yes,” Dallas and I say together.
“Having sex for Britain before our scheduled shoot.”
Dallas looks like he’s been slapped in the face with a frying pan. “Uhh… can I talk to you for a sec?” he asks Evan before shooting me an apologetic look.
They walk a ways down the hall and begin to whisper heatedly to each other. I listen close, hoping to catch some of their conversation, but fail to. To my surprise, Dallas looks pissed, like the last thing that he wants to do is have sex with Evan.
Five minutes go by before they finally return to me. Dallas looks uncomfortable, and Evan unsure of herself, so I say, “Don’t do this for me.”
Dallas shakes his head. “No, Evan is right. This is your magazine, and it’s our job to help you take control again.”
“Even if it means giving up your dignity?” I ask, crossing my arms.
“Dignity is so over-rated,” Evan says dryly, and I know she’s trying desperately to lighten up the tone of our discussion. “Plus, I’d rather you watch me have sex than A.J.-fucking-Harrison.”
“Well, okay,” I say, not exactly sure how comfortable I am watching Evan have sex. Sure, I watched Delilah and Adam not that long ago, but with Evan, it’s different. I have a good feeling that sex between Evan and Dallas is a pretty damn intimate thing.
A hand falls on my shoulder and I start, only to realize it’s just Jaime.
“A.J. wants you downstairs. I guess he’s pissed you’re not on the heels of all the photographers and taking notes on their every movement.”
I throw on a fake grin. “You can tell him to kindly go fuck himself for me.”
“Do you actually want me to say that? Because I will.”
Evan’s eyes brighten. “It was totally Jaime, wasn’t it? Oh my God, after all that time you’ve known each other. That must have been some mind-blowing sex.”
I roll my eyes.
“You told her we banged?” asks Jaime.
“I didn’t tell her that we banged.”
Dallas points to his head. “Sixth Sense.”
“Oh,” says Jaime.
Evan gives an evil smirk. “You totally lived out your childhood fantasies, didn’t you?”
My face flushes hot as Jaime says, “You told her about that?”
“Just another damn good guess,” I hiss between my teeth. And then, to get back at Evan, I turn to Jaime and ask, “Do you want to watch Evan and Dallas have sex?”
Chapter Ten
Evan
I guess it’s better with Jaime the room. Not like I’m loving the fact of this being on display, but I think that Britain feels less cornered.
“I’m going to try to be as graceful as possible with this,” Britain says as she fiddles with her camera. “And hopefully I won’t catch any penetration.”
“Just do what you have to,” I respond, sitting on the edge of the bed in a robe. We chose the unused suite at the end of the third floor for this. The room is creepy enough to speak for itself, and I can tell why it wasn’t used to house any of us in.
There’s bondage shit everywhere.
Chains and ties hang low enough from the canopy frame to hold partners hostage, and the bed itself is covered in black satin sheets. Just the sight
of it doesn’t help my nerves at all. I feel like I’m going to puke.
Maybe this isn’t such a good idea. In fact, I know this isn’t a good idea. Part of me wants to force myself to believe that I’m doing this for Britain, but I know that my motives are much more selfish than that.
Aren’t the gender roles reversed, here? Isn’t it the guy who is supposed to be throwing around trickery to get into the girl’s pants while the girl wants to wait for the right, meaningful moment? Especially considering that I broke up with Dallas because our relationship was too sexual. I should be harnessing the urge to fuck his brains out.
Dallas is still in makeup, so while Britain is fiddling with the lighting, I pace the floor in the hopes that the mild distraction will ease my twisting stomach. Jaime, who’s sitting in the armchair in the corner of the room, catches me on my third time around. He stands and rubs the back of his head. “Hey, can I talk to you?”
I shrug and follow him out of the room and into the hallway. He’s incredibly attractive, I realize, but totally not Britain’s type at all. She usually goes for slender, intellectual-looking men. Jaime is two-hundred pounds of muscle.
“You’re okay with me sitting in, right?”
“It’s not a problem,” I respond. “As long as you don’t go blabbing your big mouth about how you got to watch me and Dallas do it.”
His raises an eyebrow. “My big mouth?”
“You look the type to have a big mouth. Speaking of which, that also goes for talking to anyone about how you got to fuck the photographer.”
“I would never…”
“I mean it, dude.” I clench my fists. “I will end you.”
To my surprise, he chuckles. “You’re pretty protective of her, aren’t you?”
“It’s a best friend’s duty to be protective.”
“Well, since you’re her best friend, I’ll let you in on a little secret.” He looks around and steps closer. “The reason I want to stand in today isn’t because I want to watch you two.”
“You want to watch Britain,” I finish. “You get off on watching her get off while she photographs, essentially.”
“She only gets really excited when she’s photographing you. I’m surprised you two haven’t…”
I raise my eyebrows incredulously. “What? Fucked?”
“Well, yeah.”
I snort. “We have a mutual sexual relationship that doesn’t involve touching. It’s nice.”
“A voyeur and an exhibitionist,” he muses.
“We’re both still pretty closet about it, I suppose. And by the way, it isn’t only me.” I give his body an intense glance up and down. “I got it out of her that she couldn’t walk straight after the shoot with you and Adam.”
He grins. “I’ll have to keep that in mind.”
Our conversation is cut off when Dallas walks down the hall in nothing but lounge pants. The tips of my fingers and toes grow numb. His body has become even more beautiful in the months that we’ve been separated, every muscle immaculately defined. He catches me staring and I flush and look away. What the hell is wrong with me? I’ve straight-up licked his chest on multiple foreplay occasions, and now I can’t even look at him.
Maybe it’s because that, even after our little make out session last night, we’re technically still separated. Maybe it’s because he’s about to take me in front of an audience.
Or maybe, it’s because he doesn’t really want to do this.
It’s not like he doesn’t want to have sex with me. It’s that he wants to wait to have meaningful sex with me. He wants to prove himself.
What he doesn’t know is that he already proved himself when he told me that he begged A.J. to fly him out. And when we kissed on the bed last night, it was like nothing could be better than kissing.
But I’m not going to tell him that. The fact that he looks every bit nervous as I do helps me relax. In fact, for some reason, it’s kind of arousing.
“Err… I’ll let you two… talk,” mumbles Jaime before ducking back into the bedroom.
“Hi,” I say to Dallas as he approaches, trying desperately to keep my eyes off of his body.
“You ready?” he asks.
I swallow, untying my robe to let it fall apart just enough to expose the bra that Britain picked out for this shoot. Black, strapless, and push-up, it fits me like a glove, giving me a sultry amount of cleavage.
I watch as Dallas’s eyes flicker to my breasts, and a jolt of pulsing energy explodes at my core. Oh my God, I’m totally an exhibitionist.
“Don’t get too tied up in wanting to make meaningful love,” I say, stepping toward him and raising myself on my tiptoes. I whisper against his neck. “Have fun with me.”
Suddenly his hand presses against the small of my back, pulling me close to him roughly. He grips my jaw between his index finger and thumb, forcing me to look straight into his piercing, icy eyes.
He leans in until his mouth is barely brushing mine. “I’ve come to terms with it,” he murmurs. “I’m ready to fuck you senseless in front of an audience.” I feel the corners of his lips turn up in a grin. “But that doesn’t mean that I can’t also make meaningful love to you too.”
I suck in a breath of air as my body crumbles and attempts to recuperate. Suddenly, it clicks. This is what our relationship is based off of. Sexual careers. It might not be normal—hell, the eyes of the world may not even see it as healthy, but that doesn’t mean we loved each other less than an average couple.
They were never just photo shoots. It was never just sexual energy.
I break away from him, and without saying anything, turn around and walk back into the room, letting my robe drop to the floor.
“We’re ready,” I tell Britain, who stands on a box by the foot of the bed, still fussing with her camera.
She glances at me and then at Dallas. “Well then, let’s get this show on the road.” She points to the bed and we both climb on top of it. “This shoot is going to be a little bit different than others. I’m not going to direct you at all. I’m not even going to speak. Just try to forget about me and stay involved with each other. Keep in mind the position of your bodies and try to stay as open as possible, and I’ll do my best to stay classy and not… well, you know.” She snaps a few sample shots of me as I look up at her. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t be kinky.”
I glance at Dallas. His expression is dark and near-unreadable. It reminds me of our very last shoot together, when he pulled me over his knees and spanked me. And how much I enjoyed it—my ass searing as his fingers slipped between my legs, all in front of the camera.
“Evan, you okay?” Britain asks.
I shake myself out of my stupor, clenching my thighs together and nodding. Dallas’s expression twitches with curiosity.
“You guys can start whenever you want,” Britain says.
Dallas and I are at a standoff. How are we going to start? Who is going to make the first move? The anticipation is about to kill me, so, as he sits on the bed, I slowly crawl on top of him.
His eyes are blazingly serious, like he’s desperate to figure out what I’m planning to do. But if I gave that away, where’s the fun?
I trail my fingers down his torso, his skin erupting in goose bumps when I press my lips lightly to his. As I nibble on his bottom lip, my hand slips into the fly of his pants. He gasps when my fist closes around his length. He’s already rock-hard for me. At least I’m not the only one painfully turned on.
I shoot him a playful, wicked glance before leaning in and kissing him on the neck, then moving to his collarbone. My mouth is open just enough to nip at his skin—to taste him—but it isn’t enough. I need more. I slide off his lap as I continue to kiss and lick downward, kneeling in front of him, my hair falling down either side of my face.
Before he has time to react, I swiftly pull his cock out through the fly of his pants. His hips arch as I lick the tip, and then open my mouth to take all of him in.
I’m only halfw
ay down his length before his fingers lace through the hair at the base of my skull and he tugs upward. He presses his forehead to mine. “You keep that up and this shoot will be very short.”
He looks flustered. Pissed, almost. And it only makes me want to be more deviant. “Why don’t you try and stop me?”
I let my head drop again, licking his tip before he growls and pushes me off of him. I fall back onto the bed, and before I know what’s happening, he’s on top of me, holding my hands above my head and breathing heavily.
I struggle, but just enough to make him work for me. He glances at the bindings on the headboard. When I buck my hips against his, he wraps the leather around my wrists and ties it snuggly. I give a moan of faux irritation even though my body is on fire.
Dallas is receiving tell-all signs as well. After unhooking my bra, he pries my legs apart and studies my soaked panties before groaning and biting his lower lip. His eyes catch mine as he slowly licks his thumb. Pushing my panties to the side, his wet thumb rubs across my clit the same moment that I catch the camera out of the corner of my eye.
I lose it.
I buck beneath him as the pressure explodes and I shut my eyes, a cry escaping me. Dallas doesn’t give me half-a-moment’s break, thrusting two fingers inside of me. He leans forward and whispers into my ear. “A bit responsive today, aren’t we?”
I whimper in response, knowing what he loves to hear when I’m wet and vulnerable and desperately need him to fuck me.
“Is it me or the camera?”
“Both,” I murmur. He pulls his fingers out of me and thrusts them in again, curling them upward. I gasp, my eyes rolling back in pleasure.
“Kinky girl.” He bites down hard enough on my earlobe for me to cry out, and then licks down my neck to the hollow of my throat. He slides my lace panties down my hips at the same time his teeth graze my nipple and I convulse again, not knowing how much more sensory-play my body will be able to take. I need him inside of me, now.
