Out

by Cara Dee

  He rumbled a low curse and stretched me, doing that scissoring thing that got me so hot. “I’ll get you one. Then I want you on all fours with a webcam that will show me everything. Every clenched little millimeter of you.”

  “Jesus,” I breathed. I closed my eyes briefly, picturing the vulnerability. He’d sit on the other side of the screen and watch me while I fucked myself. He’d stroke himself and give me commands. “We haven’t tried the sleep thing yet.”

  “We will.” He wiped his hands on the sheet, then lowered himself over me. “We’ll try everything, my love.” He kissed me unhurriedly and rubbed the blunt head of his cock against my asshole. “I have so many things I want to do to you. I want to mark you. With my hands…” His rough hand landed on my throat, shocking me with the bolt of arousal. “With my teeth,” he whispered and nipped at my bottom lip. “With my come.” In a swift push, he buried himself.

  The hand on my throat stopped my cry, instead, drawing a choked gasp from me. The explosion of pleasure turned into an implosion instead, and it sent me spiraling too quickly. I begged and clung to him like a whore. When I pushed too much, the pain in my side was easy to ignore. Henry was fucking me deeply, perfectly, effectively stealing all my focus.

  He massaged my throat while whispering filthy things in my ear. “I’ll never let you forget you’re mine, boy.” Pushing in deep, he ground his hips and angled himself to get me right there. I cried out hoarsely, and it earned me a hand over my mouth. “Shhh, darling. You don’t want to wake up your brother, do you? It’s probably best only I know what a perfect ass-slut you are for me.”

  I gnashed my teeth together so hard I thought I’d crush my molars. “H-Harder.” And faster. I couldn’t deal. I needed him to fucking rail me.

  “I’ll take you however I wish, won’t I?” He smiled into a brushing kiss. “I love how your body responds to me—how you clench down, just like that. Fuck. How you arch your back, and how your cock leaks with come all over your belly. Do you feel it trickling down? Do you smell it?”

  “Hnngghh.” I dug my head into the pillow, meeting the next thrust. It shot fire through me. “Oh, fuck. I love you. Shit. Oh, fuck.”

  He nuzzled my jaw, then sucked on my earlobe. “You make my fucking mouth water.”

  “Henry,” I whimpered. “Fucking—I need it. All of it.”

  “Okay, baby. Promise to be quiet.” He pulled out of me, and I nodded quickly. Then he smacked my thigh and told me to get on all fours for him. “Let me see that tight little hole stretch around my cock.”

  I flushed all over and got into position, ready to back into him when his hand made impact on my ass. I sucked in a breath through gritted teeth as the sting flared. My cock betrayed me by throbbing and growing painfully hard.

  I got what I wanted after that. He fucked me ruthlessly from behind and ordered me to cover a hand over my mouth. Because his “baby boy wouldn’t shut the fuck up.”

  The fucker owned me. He made me stutter and hiss, choke and grunt.

  “Unbelievable,” he breathed. He brought me backward and wrapped his fingers around my cock, smearing the fluids, and nipped at my ear. That erogenous zone did things to me. Full-body shudders and goose bumps. “I love you, Zach.”

  “I love you,” I groaned breathlessly. “Ungh…love you…” My head lolled back to his shoulder, and I simply took what he gave me. With one hand on my hip and the other working my cock, he fucked me on him, in charge of every motion. I just obeyed.

  “Almost there.”

  Me too. I couldn’t verbalize it. I tensed up as a ball of heat dropped to my stomach, and the tingles began creeping down my spine. His tightening grip of my cock pushed me to the edge, and I pushed myself down hard on him. The sensations engulfed me, and then I was flying.

  The dirty bastard held my cock close to my stomach so the come splattered my skin. I was too gone to do anything about it, though I wasn’t sure I’d change anything. He was corrupting me. The dirtier and messier, the hotter.

  Henry went rigid next and rocked deeper. I felt the pulsing of his cock as it released each shot of his orgasm. His fingers dug into my hip.

  I gasped for air and collapsed against him, a sweaty, fucked mess.

  I couldn’t form words for several minutes, and exhaustion was taking hold of me. It seemed Henry couldn’t speak either, because he spent the next few moments cuddling the hell out of me. My mouth stretched into an involuntary grin as he cleaned me off where it tickled, but it was totally cool when his kisses took over.

  Each brush of his lips across my chest made me feel adored.

  “I would never jeopardize this,” I whispered. “I just want you to know.”

  He sighed contentedly and gathered me close, kissing me on the forehead. “I don’t want to picture my life without you.”

  “You don’t have to.” I smiled and popped a kiss to his nose. It earned me a cute grin from him. “Whatever happens in LA… I’m ready for the crazy, as long as I have you with me.”

  “Oh, there will be crazy.” He chuckled quietly, stroking my cheek. “This is only the beginning.”

  “For us.”

  He nodded. “For us.”

  I was ready for it.

  Epilogue

  Let’s make love to the camera

  “Someone’s in a better mood today,” Brooklyn sang.

  “Maybe?” I couldn’t wipe the grin off my face though, so no use in playing coy. It’d been nine days and four hours since I saw Henry. Nine hectic, mind-blowing days where I’d hit the bed face first every night and spent the days being bossed around and poked at. In front of a camera.

  I was not a model.

  Why Brooklyn had hired me almost on the spot was beyond me. She said she liked my face, and once I’d embraced her pro tip on modeling, I did do a bit better. “We want humble models who look superior and like they don’t give a fuck.” I was a dude, so mostly I just had to look cocky and broody. But yeah, that I-don’t-give-a-fuck attitude worked.

  She was so invested in this project that she was doing the makeup herself. It was how she’d started, doing makeup on the set of a daytime soap opera. Now she ran this successful company and was weeks away from launching the ShadowLight makeup brand.

  The makeup room was next to the studio, and I sat down in front of a wall-sized mirror so she could do her thing. Joseph came in shortly after to do another model’s makeup. There were fourteen in total, but three were going to have more exposure.

  I was one of them—as the gay guy. I’d grown closest to Akira, a Japanese male-to-female transgender model who told the dirtiest fucking jokes at the least opportune moments imaginable. She cracked me up. Lastly, there was Maliah. She was Brooklyn’s daughter, and I would’ve hoped we’d be closer, if it weren’t for her overprotective father who felt the need to personally guard every shoot she was in.

  “When does your man get in?” Brooklyn started by pushing back my hair, fastening it with a clip.

  To my annoyance, it was Joseph who answered. “He lands at five thirty.”

  I ignored it. He was an outrageous flirt, and I’d lost count of the times he’d tried to hit on me. Which, technically, worked against him. ’Cause it wasn’t really me he was interested in. Not beyond a fuck or two, anyway. It was Henry; I was fucking sure of it now. And Henry wasn’t happy about his advances.

  Another makeup artist entered the room, followed by Akira, and that filled the three spots. She waved sleepily at me, and I said good morning with a little smirk. She was hungover.

  “I guess that means you’re not coming for dinner tonight?” Brooklyn winked at my reflection, getting ready with some wipe thing.

  “No, I’m gonna get fucked six ways to Sunday.” It was the truth. “According to Henry, anyway.”

  Brooklyn and Akira guffawed.

  My grin was still there when it was time for the foundation, so I closed my eyes and relaxed. This was the type of makeup that made regular people insecure about their complexion.
I wasn’t supposed to look like I wore anything.

  Brooklyn was demanding yet easy to work for. If she had a vision, she possessed the skills to explain it so no one wandered around completely clueless on set. Since I was new, she’d sort of taken me under her wing, something I appreciated a ton. She invited me over for dinner every night with her family, and I accepted for the most part. When I was surrounded by so much wild shit, it was nice to have a place to unwind.

  Akira was way wilder than I could ever be. Or want to be. She could party all night and kill it for the photographers. I’d gone out with her and some of the others twice, and dancing and sipping Violet Hazes was fucking awesome, but a dude needed his sleep too.

  “Breakfast orders, people.” An assistant poked her head in, and everyone prattled off something.

  “OJ and a plain bagel, thanks,” I said.

  “I miss carbs,” Akira yawned.

  “Don’t we all, hon,” Joseph agreed.

  I shrugged to myself. I wasn’t quitting carbs for a job. Modeling was…an experience, just not one I’d devote my life to. Brooklyn had hinted at wanting to book me for something else later on, and I’d let Martin deal with it. I was gonna go along with it while it was fun and it didn’t get in the way of something more important.

  I was also the dork who’d made a fool of himself when I’d seen what I was getting paid. I’d legit called Brooklyn and said there was something wrong—a misprint. She’d laughed at me.

  Then, so had Martin and Joseph.

  In my defense, I wasn’t used to being paid this much.

  “All set, gorgeous,” Brooklyn declared. “You can eat after the first setup.”

  I nodded, and then I was shuffled along to the huge studio that was set up to look like a depressing diner from the fifties. The saddest Christmas decorations sat on the diner’s counter, which the photographer directed me to stand behind.

  They used elaborate sets, and Phil had photographed us in everything from a train to a church. Some of them were, uh, what did they call it…on-set shooting? Maybe. Shit, I didn’t know. No, on location. Something like that. We weren’t always in a studio.

  “We want you bored, Zach—bored and yearning.”

  Uh-huh, so I was gonna do brooding and fuck all. Got it.

  Unlike the sets, the wardrobe couldn’t be simpler. We were all in black jeans and wife-beaters. Martin loved that.

  One thing I’d learned about modeling was that it took forever. They had to direct me, check the lights, take test photos, and change things up. However, once we got started, I wasn’t going anywhere.

  I leaned over the counter, elbows on the top, and looked out as if there was a window. Phil seemed to approve. I’d fucked up on my first day, overthinking all the instructions: “Show us some biceps,” “Remember to look resigned,” “Relax,” “More attitude.” And who could blame me? It’d been too much to remember, so I’d grown frustrated and wary. Now I kept that in mind; it was more important I stuck to the key instructions. Brooklyn’s vision, what she wanted to portray, was my focus.

  “Frown at the counter, give me the frustration because there’s something you want but can’t have.”

  I suppressed a sigh and rephrased it to myself. Imagine not being able to see Henry tonight.

  My jaw ticked, and I absently pressed the palm of my hand against my other hand’s knuckles, cracking them. There were no words to describe how much I missed him, and the best part was that our reunion would be better this time. We were on the same page and talked every day; we put us first. If he wasn’t feeling a hundred percent, I didn’t get off the phone until he was better. If I was too overwhelmed by this lifestyle, for lack of a better word, he was with me until I could breathe out. Yeah, not seeing him tonight would mess me up.

  “That’s great, Zach. Let’s take ten so you can eat your breakfast.”

  “Calm yourself, hon,” Brooklyn berated with a laugh.

  “I’m sorry.” I grew sheepish and refocused. One hour to go, then he’d be here. Henry had landed. Now he was facing traffic at rush hour. Distance didn’t matter whatsoever. It could be around the corner from the airport, and he’d still be a while.

  “I want your A game,” she said, holding up a lipstick. “This next one is what started it all. The look you gave the mirror in that club—I want you to give that to the camera now.”

  I nodded once, then stayed still as she applied the lipstick. It resembled the one Henry made me wear, dark plum, only this one had no shine or gloss to it.

  Each ad in this campaign, I’d learned, would have a strip of three photos. They all had depressing backgrounds with some type of half-assed, cheap holiday decorations. In the first shot, we got the longing, brooding, and defeat. In the second one, we were staring at whatever makeup product Brooklyn chose. So far, I’d gotten lipstick and an eye pen. The item of makeup would be at the center of our attention, as well as the photos’. Then the third photo was where we wore the product. And we got bold.

  When Brooklyn said she was going for bold, she wasn’t messing around.

  The second shot had taken me the longest today. Then after lunch, I’d been whisked to an outdoor set where Maliah had been doing her shoot. My part had been to push her up against a streetlamp and brush my thumb over her shimmering cheekbone.

  Asher, Brooklyn’s husband, wasn’t happy with me at the moment.

  I’d reminded him I had a boyfriend.

  “Akira to set!” someone hollered.

  I refrained from touching my lips. It was possible I’d done that once or twice before.

  “Perfect.” Brooklyn stepped back and followed me back to my spot behind the diner’s counter. On the way, I rolled my shoulders and stretched my legs. “Akira, I want you behind Zach.”

  Akira was by no means short, but she wasn’t taller than me.

  In heels, she reached high enough to sink her teeth into my shoulder, which Brooklyn told her to do.

  “Lord, woman.” I winced. She had sharp teeth.

  “Shush. I know you like it rough,” she giggled.

  I laughed and didn’t deny it. When I was tipsy, I shared stories about Henry and me.

  Brooklyn placed one of Akira’s hands under my beater to rest along my abs. “Okay, careful now.” She guided Akira’s other hand to— “No, wait. Too much.” Brooklyn studied us for a beat and tapped her chin. “Skip the abs. Rest it on his hip instead. I want focus on his mouth.” She carefully drew Akira’s hand to my jaw so her fingers landed over my mouth. “Stay still.” Next, she dragged the fingers downward, and I killed my smirk. She really had Henry’s actions in her thoughts. The dark lipstick smeared with Akira’s fingers, down my jaw. “There, keep your fingers there.” She smeared the lipstick a bit more before backing off. “Give me bold, darlings! Zach, I want the same fuck-me eyes you gave your man in the mirror. Can you do that for me?”

  Oh, I could do that. All I had to do was think of him.

  Feet aligned with my shoulders, I lifted my chin and pretended Phil’s camera was Henry. It was his teeth sinking into my flesh, his fingers making a mess on my jaw. My LA nights flooded my thoughts, and I put all the attitude I could into it. The determination to face anyone who wanted to walk all over me, the take-me-for-who-I-am pride because it was okay to stand out, the sheer desire to please my boyfriend, and the…challenge, the dare, to find yourself in a club bathroom with glitter on your face.

  Brooklyn’s squeal offered the biggest relief. It made me hope my eyes had flashed with at least a fraction of the heat the experiences had given me since I’d met Henry Bennington.

  He and Martin had insisted I mingle on my own that first night at a gay bar in Santa Monica. Because of it, I’d embarked on a journey that was gonna take me places. I could do both. And that was the thing. Henry remained insistent I try new things, and I was eager to jump in now, ’cause I had him. Whether he was right by my side or waiting by the bar, he was there. He would be the last person to hold me back, but when I needed my
safe place to land, he caught me.

  I wanted to try it all. Be it modeling, getting involved with Henry’s organization, or helping Martin decorate freaking cupcakes, I was gonna do it.

  “Joseph!” Brooklyn shouted. “Get out here!”

  I took a calming breath. It was hard to push down the motherfucking joy that surged through me.

  “Grip his hip tighter, Akira,” Phil said.

  “Same with his jaw, hon,” Brooklyn added with a nod. “Make it look like you’re digging your fingers into him.”

  Akira complied and snickered softly at my wince. I was gonna give it to her later. Fuck her if she made me laugh.

  Joseph came out from the makeup room just as I spotted a shadow in the corner of my eye. It’s him. It had to be. Gray slacks, black shirt, a roll-aboard carry-on. It meant Mattie and Ty were having dinner with Nan tonight and taking care of the store tomorrow. It meant I had the whole weekend with Henry.

  “Look at him,” Brooklyn said, beaming. “Look at him. He’s my new face.”

  I groaned through a chuckle and gave up. “How the fuck am I supposed to give the camera bedroom eyes now?” The woman was making me self-conscious. More than that, my entire being was buzzing. I wanted to run over to Henry.

  Brooklyn noticed Henry then, and she tinkered a laugh and waved a hand. “Okay, let’s take a break.”

  Fuck, yes. I legit jumped over the counter, taking a quick detour to the box of tissues Brooklyn held up, and then I was stalking closer to the exit while wiping the lipstick off. My man. Holy shit, I’d missed him. Had it really only been nine days?

  He gave me the warmest grin, and I didn’t stop until I had my arms around his neck and was yanking him in for a hard kiss.

  “I love you.” I hugged him harder to me, enjoying catching him off guard for once, and spoke in between kisses. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

  He let out a surprised noise and smiled. “Hello to you too, my love.” He touched my cheek and took over, controlling this kiss and the next.