Last Stop
Page 18
Once they break the ice, their sexual chemistry burns hotter than a macro flash. Everyone gets what they need…until emotions come into play. Their power could develop into something permanent, throw everything off balance—leaving one of them the odd man out.
Warning: Contains lots of sarcasm, a double helping of steamy erotic photography, and two dominants having their way with one very enthusiastic submissive.
Enjoy the following excerpt for Out of Focus:
All I’d needed to get nervous was the time it took for Dante to ask if I’d ever considered modeling. Oh, yeah, I was nervous. But I was also intrigued, both with this idea and with them, so I forced the nerves back.
“So, what exactly do I do?”
Ryan adjusted a light. “Whatever we tell you to do.”
“And you can say no to anything,” Dante said.
That eased my nerves a little. They were in charge. All I had to do was listen to them, and there was a way out. I could leave now if I wanted to.
Dante disappeared into the shadows, then returned with an adjustable stool that had a single armrest on one side. He put it in the middle of the muslin.
“We’ll have you start on that,” he said. “It’s usually a little easier to relax when you’re sitting versus standing in the middle of a bare set.”
Relax. Sure. I’ll get right on that.
He gestured at it and smiled. “Have a seat.”
And we’re off.
I took a seat on the stool, resting my arm on the armrest. With the various bright lights around me, I could barely make out Dante and Ryan’s shadows. Still, I had no trouble keeping track of them as they moved around. Their footsteps and their dark-against-darker shapes made them easy enough to track, especially when the occasional glint of light on Dante’s almost-white hair distinguished his silhouette from Ryan’s, but they also kept talking to me.
“Could you put your shoulders back a little? Good, just like that.”
“Raise your chin a bit, just—yes, perfect.”
“Turn your body about five degrees to your left. Right there, good.”
Being in the middle of the set was weird. Out in the open. Exposed. Only their voices gently guiding me through where to put my hand or how to tilt my head kept me distracted from that vulnerability.
Then Ryan came out of the shadows and gestured for me to stand. “I think that’s enough with the chair.” He took it off the set, and Dante emerged from the darkness.
“Stand with one hip toward the front. Like this.” He stood as he’d indicated, his body facing one side of the set while he looked to the front. I mirrored him, and he nodded. “Good. Just rest your weight on your left foot.” When I did, he nodded again, and a moment later, he and Ryan were back behind the curtain of shadows.
He was right: without the company of a piece of furniture, I was definitely out in the open. Vulnerable, exposed, and not nearly as unnerved as I thought I’d be.
Nothing in the room was loud, but it was anything but quiet. The pop of the flash and the zing when it recycled. The snap of the shutter. My heartbeat. My own slow, uneven breathing.
Snap. Pop. Zing. Heartbeat. Heartbeat. Heartbeat. Snap. Snap. Snap. Pop. Zing.
“Hook your thumbs in your pockets,” Ryan said. “Just let your arms relax.” I did, wondering if he realized how far out of my vocabulary “relax” was at this point.
“Bring your left shoulder forward a little,” Dante said. “Good, perfect.”
Snap. Pop. Zing.
It should have been overwhelming taking commands from two people at once, but strangely enough, it wasn’t. They didn’t contradict each other. When one gave a suggestion, the other ran with it.
“Tilt your—” Dante stepped across the edge of the muslin. He pursed his lips, then reached for my shoulder but stopped before touching me. “May I?”
In spite of my nerves, I nodded.
Even through my shirt, the gentle contact of his fingers sent electricity down my spine. He nudged my shoulder back a little.
“Good, right there.” He offered a smile, which did nothing to help me keep my balance. “Don’t move.”
Snap. Pop. Zing. Snap. Pop. Zing.
They kept shooting for a few minutes, offering gentle suggestions. I focused completely on their voices, letting their directions ground me. I was aware of what they told me to do, aware of whether or not I was comfortable doing it, but my body simply…did.
“Squat down and rest your elbows on your knees. Just let your hands fall between, completely relaxed.”
“Turn to the left.”
“Tuck your chin just slightly.”
Snap. Pop. Zing. Snap. Pop. Zing.
“Stand and put your weight on your right heel.”
“Don’t move your head, but look up.”
“Bring your chin toward your left shoulder and look straight ahead.”
Snap. Pop. Zing. Snap. Pop. Zing.
Blood pounded in my ears when Ryan came up to me as Dante had done a few minutes before. And just as Dante had done, he reached for me but stopped before making contact.
“May I?” he asked, fingertips inches from my face.
I’d forgotten how to speak, so I just nodded.
He touched my face, and I closed my eyes as that warm contact pulled all the air out of my lungs. With the gentlest pressure on my jaw, he turned my head just a little to the right.
“You okay?” His voice was soft, and his fingers still cupped my jaw.
“Yeah.” I opened my eyes.
Snap. Pop. Zing.
Ryan grimaced and blinked a few times, evidently caught off guard by Dante’s flash. Then he gave me a reassuring smile, and slipped back into the dark foreground.
I continued obeying their instructions, pretending I wasn’t acutely aware of the phantom warmth where Ryan had touched my skin.
After a while, Dante said, “Would you be comfortable losing your shirt?”
I took a breath. Was I? Oh, hell yes I was.
“Jordan?” Ryan said.
“Um, yeah. Yeah, I can do that.” I started unbuttoning my shirt, ignoring all the fluttering in my stomach and the tingling at the base of my spine.
“Wait,” Ryan said.
My hands froze, and I looked up, eyebrows raised.
“Slower,” he said.
I moistened my lips, then continued unbuttoning my shirt, forcing my unsteady hands to work slowly.
Snap. Pop. Zing. Snap. Pop. Zing.
“Good, just like that,” Ryan said softly. His approval sent a rush of…of something through my veins.
Snap. Pop. Zing. Snap. Pop. Zing.
“Take your shirt all the way off.” Dante appeared on the set, hand outstretched.
I obeyed, shrugging off my shirt. Warm air met my skin, making me acutely aware of every inch I made visible to them. Of the fact that I no longer had my shirt to mask the front of my jeans and the effect they had on me.
Dante took my shirt but paused before returning to his place. “Tell us if you get cold, okay?”
I nodded. The lights warmed my skin anyway, but it was the heat from under my skin that was liable to make me break into a sweat. Getting cold wasn’t an issue.
Snap. Pop. Zing. Heartbeat. Heartbeat. Heartbeat. Snap. Snap. Snap. Pop. Zing.
Fuck, I was half naked. Taking orders, following simple commands that were commands nonetheless. My every move was under the scrutiny of the cameras, illuminated by lights and flashes, and in full unflinching view of them. Dante and Ryan. Dante. Ryan. Dante, who’d made me trip over my own feet at the wedding with nothing more than eye contact. Ryan, whose subs called him Angel. Dante, who’d been right there; Ryan, who’d silently asked if I wanted some of this, and I did, I did, God damn it, I did.
I was dreaming. I had to be.
“Take off your belt.” Dante’s command was terse, bordering on sharp, and didn’t invite argument. Intellectually, I knew I was free to say no, and I was free to leave if I didn’t wan
t to do this. Not that it mattered. I wanted to.
My shaking hands amplified the jingling of my belt buckle, and the metallic sound echoed in the stillness while Dante and Ryan watched. Waited.
Snap. Pop. Zing. Snap. Pop. Zing.
I imagined them zooming in for close-ups of my hands, and wondered if the camera would pick up how much my hands trembled while I tried to work the simple buckle. I wondered just how visible my hard-on was to the cameras—to them—because I sure as hell couldn’t miss it. I couldn’t decide if that was mortifying or exhilarating.
Then came Ryan’s voice, and with four words, he tilted the scales in favor of the latter:
“Get on your knees.”
Last Stop
Lou Harper
When love drifts into his life, danger isn’t far behind.
Sam Mayne’s life is as dull as the dishwater in his small-town Montana diner, and that’s just how he wants it. Quiet, uneventful, safe from his shadowy past. The breezy young drifter who answers his help-wanted ad makes him uneasy in ways he dare not examine too closely. Except he can’t help but be pulled in by Jay Colby’s spunky attitude, endless stories, and undeniable sex appeal.
Fresh off yet another romantic disaster, Jay doesn’t understand his attraction to the taciturn line cook, but there’s no fighting the chemistry that lands them in bed together. Where Sam’s subtly dominant streak takes command, and Jay delights in discovering the pleasures of his submissive side.
Safe in the assumption their relationship is temporary, neither lover holds back when the heat is on. Until Sam’s deadly past catches up with them with a vengeance, forcing him to drop the life he’s built, pick up his lover, and run. As danger cuts closer to the bone, Sam and Jay are forced to face the truth. About themselves, about the depth of their love—and the newly forged bonds that are about to be tested to the limit.
Warning: Contains enough sparks to ignite a sexual fire, ably fanned by the judicious use of some interesting props, as well as some butt-warming spanking. Sizzzzle.
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This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Samhain Publishing, Ltd.
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Last Stop
Copyright © 2012 by Lou Harper
ISBN: 978-1-60928-954-6
Edited by Sue Ellen Gower
Cover by L. Harper
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First Samhain Publishing, Ltd. electronic publication: June 2012
www.samhainpublishing.com