by Marni Mann
“You’re a real fucking slut, you know that?” Lilly screamed.
She had heard us. I had tried to be quiet, but he brought out the loud in me.
“How dare you have sex in my house…when I can’t. When I’m lying here. Dying.”
I took a deep breath and kept my voice low. “I pay for this house, too; I can do whatever I want in it.”
“That bed you fucked in is mine. I bought it, and those sheets, and the towel you used to wipe yourself off, and…” She started coughing. I handed her the cup of water from her nightstand, and she took several sips. “So, no, you can’t do anything you damn well want.”
“I thought you were sleeping—”
She threw the cup of water against the wall. The liquid made a round stain on the yellow paint and ran like tears toward the floor. I could tell that little movement had tired her.
“I wasn’t sleeping. Not even close. And now…and now I can’t get your moans out of my head. You might as well have fucked him in my room.”
I could have brought up all the times she had fucked strange men in her room, her bed hitting our shared wall so my mattress shook beneath me. How she had chosen those men and alcohol over me. But I didn’t. Maybe that was because it wasn’t anger that I saw in Lilly’s eyes; it was jealousy. I knew how much she enjoyed sex; I had heard the happiness in her voice several times a week. And during the times I had watched her on the couch, her face was filled with bliss. She was probably going to die without feeling that ever again.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “It wasn’t fair to do that when your room is so close to mine.”
“Don’t do it again.”
“I won’t.”
She looked around the room and took deep breaths. It reminded me of how a toddler would settle after stomping her feet on the ground.
“Was that your boyfriend?” she asked.
We had never discussed the men in my life, or the women. And when I left the apartment for something other than work, she never knew where I was going, and never bothered to ask.
I shook my head. “But since you need your pills while I’m at work, Dallas is going to bring them to you. Be nice to him.”
“Maybe he’ll take some pity on me.”
“Try it.”
“I will, you little bitch.”
“Don’t embarrass yourself—or him. I really need his help…and so do you.”
“Get the fuck out.”
My phone rang from my bedroom, and I quickly shut Lilly’s door and ran to answer it. Victoria had told me not to let any calls go to voicemail. I didn’t know what would happen if they did—or if I chose to ignore a call that didn’t come from the mansion. I didn’t want to find out.
“I hope you’re not breathless because of me,” Cameron said.
I pictured his mouth, the way his lips would be shaped as each of those words came out. I still couldn’t believe that he was going to be my model…and that his voice triggered something inside me. I wasn’t sure if it was admiration or something deeper, more sensual.
“I ran to get the phone.”
“Were you busy?”
“Are we still meeting today?” I asked, ignoring his last question. I didn’t know how to answer it without sounding pathetic.
“The studio: one hour. Are you good with that?”
“I’ll be there,” I said, and hung up.
***
Cameron’s stare was so intense; I felt as though he were trying to see through my jeans and tank top, his eyes washing Dallas’s saliva off of me. I hadn’t showered since this morning, and Dallas was still all over my skin. I wondered if his spit glowed under the purple light. It was the first shade Cameron had chosen to use; the canisters that hung from the metal rafters had been dimmed and set to violet. He had asked me to point my body to the wall with my face turned just slightly toward him.
I concentrated on the white satin-finish paint that now projected as purple, and tried to tone my mood. I rubbed my bare feet against the silvery cement floors, hoping the coolness would have the same affect. The silence caused my thoughts to float like a lazy river, and Lilly and Dallas were taking turns in my water. Cameron was in there, too. My stomach seemed to turn messy whenever I was around him.
“Stop thinking so much,” he said. His pencil no longer scratched the paper. “It makes your lips purse.”
I relaxed my face. “Sorry.”
Portraits were difficult enough. Having a model who constantly moved or changed expression made it that much harder.
“Feel like sharing those thoughts?” he asked.
His voice spread throughout the twelve-by-twelve room in the basement of the art building. Up until now, the only noises had been our breathing and the movement of his pencil. He had reserved the studio for two hours so we were completely alone.
“Nope,” I said. “Definitely not.”
His deep chuckle surprised me as much as the glasses he had on. He’d never worn the thick black-plastic frames to class before. They didn’t dull the blue of his eyes; they enhanced the color, and added to his semi-grunge look.
“Come on, Charlie…entertain me a little bit more. Had I known the stereo in here was broken, I would have brought my dock and some tunes to help you relax.”
I didn’t realize I looked that uptight.
“Doesn’t your phone play music?” I asked.
“It does. But it’s dead.”
I knew I shouldn’t, but I turned my head. The smirk he wore hinted at something sensual and I wondered if he was remembering what had caused his phone to die, or who. There had been lots of gossip about Cameron throughout the art department, but it had never been about anyone he’d dated.
“Can I ask you a question?”
His smirk dropped, and his lips parted just slightly before he licked the bottom one. “Yes, I’m about to have you get naked.”
“That wasn’t what I was going to ask.” I blushed, but in the purple light it probably looked like my skin had deepened a few shades to match his complexion. ”Why do you bother taking freshman level classes? With skills like yours, it seems unnecessary.”
He set his pencil down, picked up a long black bed sheet, and walked over to me. The first few buttons of his shirt were undone; his skin looked like wax. Smooth, tight, with script inked across the clearing of his collarbone. I couldn’t distinguish any of the words and I didn’t want to stare. I would find out, though, since I’d soon be painting them.
“I like to practice the basics constantly, so my fingers stay fresh.”
He got plenty of practice with each piece that he created. I believed there was more to it then the answer he gave.
“That’s the only reason?”
He released a burst of air through his nose and shook his head. “This place…” His voice changed. His tone sounded as though it were fueled by pain. His eyes narrowed. “It’s the closest thing I have to a home.”
I was pretty sure Cameron had a studio loft somewhere in Boston, but I didn’t think that was what he’d meant by having a home. I had that same kind of want, and for a long time the Hunts’ house had filled it. But now, for me, home was between two arms, even if it was just temporary. I wondered what had caused Cameron’s hole.
“I appreciate that answer,” I said. “And I get it. Completely.”
He handed me the black sheet, his stare never leaving mine. “Then I’m sure you’ll get why I want you to strip off all your clothes and wrap this around you.”
As he moved back to his chair, I let the sheet drop between my legs, the ends resting against the floor. Then I unfolded the middle and spread it between my arms to assess its width.
“It’s for a twin bed,” he said. “I figured you wouldn’t need anything bigger than that.”
There was a bathroom at the front entrance of the basement, but that would mean I would have to run down the hallway, and there would be plenty of stares if anyone happened to be coming out of a studio. So I moved over to the corner
of the room instead, figuring I’d get more privacy in there, and placed the sheet between my teeth. With the thin black cotton hiding most of my body and shielding me from his eyes, I stripped. I left my jeans and tank top in a heap on the ground. Before going back to the stool, I wrapped the sheet around me as though it were a towel and tucked the ends into the middle of my breasts.
Cameron hadn’t watched me undress; he’d turned in his chair to face the wall opposite me, but he swung back to the front as soon as he heard my movement.
“How naked do you want me?” I asked when I reached the center platform. The stool pressed against the back of my thighs.
A light came into his eyes, his face. A smile teased his lips. “Just from the waist up.” As I was about to release the sheet, his mouth opened again. “But I want you to cover your nipples with the palms of your hands.”
I rested my forearm over both breasts while I slid the sheet down to my waist. Once it was tied and secured in place, I cupped my nipples in my palms. My skin was already warm, but it seemed to turn even hotter from his stare. I could feel his eyes on my body…especially the bulges under each hand.
“Yes,” he said, a small change in his tone. “That’s perfect. Now take a seat on the stool.”
I slowly followed his instructions, making sure the sheet didn’t fall.
“Turn sideways,” he said. “I want your profile.”
My feet moved to the metal bars on the stool and I pushed myself to the left, rotating in the direction I had faced before. My actions were shaky and my stomach was wracked with nerves. I didn’t know why. I had no problem getting naked at the mansion, strutting toward my clients in much less than I was wearing now. But in here, with Cameron, I longed for a mask.
“Feel like sharing your thoughts now?” he asked.
I arched my back a little, pushing my ass into the wooden seat. “My thoughts aren’t all that different than they were before.” I wanted to see his expression, but my moving could have messed up his work.
“You wouldn’t tell me what they were before.”
I laughed. “I still won’t.”
I felt the change in the air as he approached me. I held in my breath, waiting to find out why he had gotten so close.
“I realize you can’t move your hands, but the sheet is sticking up in the back. Can I tuck it in for you?”
My eyes held his, and I nodded.
His shirt brushed past my bare arm as he moved to my side, and then the small of my back. Gently, he folded the sheet into me. His skin was as warm as mine.
“Anything else you want while I’m up here?”
He was in front of me again, his hands in his pockets. His stance wasn’t casual, and neither was the look on his face.
I shook my head, even though there were so many things I could have asked for…so many things I wanted from him. But silence was the safest answer.
“Then hold still,” he said, heading back to his canvas. “I need to finish the outline of your body.”
He didn’t say the word body any differently than anyone else. It just sounded sexier coming out of Cameron’s lips.
CHAPTER TWELVE
After my first week at the mansion, I learned that each evening was going to be a little different. The foreplay didn’t always involve tongues and teeth; toys were often used, and so was food. Clients enjoyed having sex all over the place in my wing: on the tables in the entryway, under the candlelight in the hallway, on the mirrored floor of the catwalk, in the stone nooks in the bedroom. Even on the counter in the bathroom. While devouring every stirring second of erotic arousal, I also listened to his needs and read his wants; the challenge was to make him moan as loud as me. My body would respond as quickly as he did. But I didn’t want every shift to be the same, and there were some nights where the activity didn’t bear any resemblance to physical pleasure, where I didn’t do any grunting at all. Those were the nights when I was with the Doctor. He had become a regular, but he wouldn’t touch me. He would stay in my room sitting on the end of the bed or on a nearby chair instead, sometimes for hours, and we would just talk.
The mask allowed me to become a fantasy, turning me into whomever my client lusted for, and each of those characters fulfilled me in a different way. As a teenager, I had struggled with finding my voice. My artistic abilities hadn’t yet come to fruition. My will was soft and my decisions were easily influenced…and my body was still growing. All of this together caused a deficit of confidence. I stayed mostly in Emma’s shadow because I was afraid to stand in the light. But Cee stretched out of those shadows. She wanted the attention, consumed it, and licked her way around her watcher’s eyes. And that’s exactly what I was going to do tonight.
Once Sal came into the bathroom to notify me that Jay had arrived, I strutted into the bedroom with my most haughty and arrogant walk. I was dressed in a black bikini with golden metal spikes evenly protruding out of the triangular cups and bottom. Gold glitter covered my eyelids and extensions; the same color had been added to my lashes, curling around the top of the mask. My lips had been painted a glossy nude. Jay sat with his back facing me in an oversized chair that had been placed near the foot of the bed. The chair’s legs and body were made of wood, dark and ornately-carved; his ass and neck rested against its red leather cushions.
I moved in behind him and my teeth found his favorite spot, the section of skin between his shoulder and neck, and I gently bit down. “I’ve missed your taste.” I waited for his body to relax before pulling my teeth away and replacing them with my lips, slowly lapping the musk and spice scent off his flesh. He hadn’t shaved in several days; his black hairs, mixed with just a few grays, threatened to stab my tongue.
“I’ve missed your pussy.”
Bending over the top of him, my tongue dipped farther down his chest with each pass, simultaneously pulling his buttons free. His hands gripped the armrests, his knuckles white from squeezing. But they soon loosened, and his palms started stroking the leather pads back and forth as though he were itching them. His fingers spread wide. He gasped and held his breath as I yanked his shirt open and let my breasts brush against his neck.
“I’ve missed those, too,” he said.
I arched my back so the gold spikes on my bra poked into his hair.
His fingers clamped down onto mine; he guided me around the chair, letting go only when I had reached his lap. His knees pressed against my thighs. The white mask covered everything but his lips, which were full and wet. He licked them hungrily. He reverently touched my legs, his fingers running up and down before he released me. Then he leaned back into the cushion, allowing me to straddle him. My mouth returned to the spot it had just left, sucking the skin below his left ear.
As I shifted to his right side, I noticed his hands were fastened on the armrests again. He was fighting something; I wanted to know what that something was. I pulled my face out of his neck and rocked back, putting a foot between us. His lips parted as his deep sapphire eyes moved to my breasts.
Those were what he craved. But he didn’t want to just take; he wanted to be fed.
My nails, matte black with tiny gold pearls to match my suit, circled the cups of my bra. His mouth opened wider as I got closer to the middle; I squeezed the metal spikes between my thumb and pointer finger.
“Fuck,” he exhaled.
My fingers traveled beneath the fabric, keeping the center of my breasts hidden as I rubbed my nipples. My head tilted back, my curls tickling his thighs and knees; my sweet moans blended with his breathing. My hands circled again, and I felt him grow underneath me.
“Feed them to me,” he said.
I released the knot behind my neck, the strings falling to my chest. Then I untied the one in the back and let the bra drop. As it hit the floor, the metal studs bounced against the shards of mirror, and the noise echoed throughout the room.
I gripped his neck, just below his jaw, and stood between his legs. His head remained still as his lips opened. His hands sh
ook against the armrest. “Feed them to me,” he said again.
His words hit my skin, fueling each goose bump that rose. The heat that blew from his mouth did the same. Both nipples were already hard, but they seemed to extend then, as if they were reaching for his warmth.
My fingers ran through the length of his hair, the thick black strands begging me to pull. So that’s what I did, drawing his head closer to my chest. I stopped when there was a small gap between us. He closed it with his tongue, gradually sliding it out of his mouth, flicking just the edge of my nipple. My fingers tightened around his hair. His tongue began to draw circles, switching from one nipple to the other and the sensitive skin between my breasts. He still hadn’t given me his whole mouth.
“Hurt me,” I breathed.
He pinched one with his teeth, wiggling his tongue over the tip. Pain spread through it in pulses; rapture filled the pauses. Just when the enjoyment began to sweep over me, he started to suck, his lips surrounding me as though I were the end of a straw.
“I want you wet,” he said.
His teeth had moved onto my other nipple, but he was no longer using just his mouth. His nose traced my flesh; his mask gently dusted it, his scruff chaffed. My skin turned hot and red, but it craved more.
“I am, baby,” I whispered. “Dripping.”
A deep moan came from both of our lips.
“Not just that kind of wet,” he said.
He pushed down on my hips so that I was sitting on his thighs, and then he cupped my ass and lifted it. I wrapped my legs around his waist. While he carried me, I kissed and licked his neck, gently scraping my teeth under his jaw, pleading with him to fill my mouth. My request pulled his lips into a smile, but I knew Jay wasn’t going to give me what I demanded; he rarely ever did. His enjoyment came from knowing that I desired to please him.
Once we reached the bathroom, he set me on the tub’s edge and turned on the water in the shower. The overhead and side jets of the walk-in spurted out in heavy streams. Then he returned to my side, his hands untying the bikini knots at each of my hips. His fingers were warm against my skin, but the granite walls of the shower weren’t as he placed me against one of them. The coldness sent a shock through my body, just as his tongue pushed me flat against the rock. As quickly as he’d carried me and set me under the stream of water, he had dropped to his knees. His tongue began massaging between my folds. His hair was too slick to grab and hold, so I brushed my hands against the sides of his face instead. The roughness of his stubble kept me in the moment, but I got lost in his movements just the same.
