What she wanted to feel was desired. Kel always came right up to but not quite crossing the line of desire. Lust. Need.
He knocked on the bathroom doorway.
“Come in.”
He opened the door. When she turned, satisfaction filled her to see his eyebrows lift. When she glanced down at his crotch, she didn’t miss that he quickly adjusted himself.
Good.
* * * *
Holy…fuck.
If it hadn’t been for the fact that they were about to start a job, he would have begged her to sit down with him right then, establish the rules of their relationship, and proceed to fuck her brains out.
No. Focus.
Fuck.
“Well?” she asked.
He nodded. “Wow. Good wow. Perfect.”
She smiled. “Thank you.”
He stared and then realized she was waiting for him to say something else. “Um, I’ll drive you over there when it’s time, so you don’t have to walk all the way around the building in the heat.”
Or so anyone can see how you look hotter than fuck like that.
He’d never been a jealous or possessive person.
Until now.
How the hell was he going to get through this shoot and remain professional?
He went next door to get the club ready, to get the AC turned on, the backdrop hung, and move his equipment over.
All the while, firmly in his brain sat the image of Mallory standing there in that gorgeous satin robe, her hair long and straight from using a flat-iron, falling over her shoulder in a brilliant, fiery cascade, and how he wished he could grab fistfuls of her hair and wrap it around his hands while she deep-throated his cock.
Oooh, stop that. This will be a long damn night if you can’t get it under control.
He made sure he had water, snacks, and other supplies for her, and that she took her makeup, hairbrush, and a change of clothes for after. Then he drove her over, something in the back of his mind hoping Jaymzon would call and cancel at the last minute.
Kel would gladly pay her the rest of the money out of his own pocket.
When he heard the knock on the club’s door, he walked out to the lobby, his heart sinking to see the rigger waiting outside. Six five and built like a brick shithouse, his shaved head and tanned skin glowed under the lights in the parking lot. Kel suspected the man must spend hours every day in the gym to look the way he did.
Schooling his expression, Kel unlocked the door and shook hands with him. “Hey, dude. Welcome to Sarasota.”
“Glad we could work together,” Jaymzon said. “Let me scope the setup before me and my guys bring our equipment in.”
“Sure.” He led him into the club.
“This is sweet. Nice to have your own—Well, hello there.”
Something twisted, sick, deep in Kel’s gut as Jaymzon walked over to where Mal sat waiting on one of the sofas.
The rigger didn’t bother looking at Kel when he spoke. “I take it this lovely young lady is my victim, eh, model tonight?” He chuckled, drawing a nervous smile from Mal.
Kel wanted to deck him. The guy was in his early fifties. Not that age differences were usually a problem for Kel, but…
Well, okay, any guy who oozed this level of attraction toward Mal would set off Kel’s alarms, regardless of whether he was eighteen or eighty or anywhere in between.
It’s going to be a looong fucking night.
Chapter Seventeen
Mallory’s first impression of the renowned rigger was that of a creepy middle-aged guy desperately trying to recapture his youth.
But she knew she’d have to keep it together so she didn’t disappoint Kel. She wanted him to be proud of her, to do a good job so that, maybe, it’d give her a chance to be more to him than just a friend and roommate and play partner.
So after Jaymzon and his three guys brought their equipment into the club and got everything set up, and she’d filled out and signed all the release forms, she played along with Jaymzon’s banter, his sexy teasing, his not-so-subtle innuendoes that probably worked on many of the models he dealt with.
She could play the game as well as anyone else.
But she kept her focus, whenever possible, firmly on Kel.
That was the only way she knew she wouldn’t lose her composure and end up embarrassing herself and Kel, both.
Jaymzon wanted to start with the most difficult rigs first, progressing to the easier stuff later as energy levels and stamina lagged. During the first rig, which involved a crazy mix of colored plastic cling wrap, bubble wrap, chains, and some barbed wire, she forced her brain to settle and focus on memories of playing with Kel, how it felt to have his hands on her, ignoring the not-so-accidental incidental contact Jaymzon had with her breasts or between her legs while doing the initial rigging.
Kel acted very quiet. Whether because it was a shoot and he was trying to stay out of the way, or for some other reason, she couldn’t tell. Although it seemed his usually placid expression looked far darker than she ever remembered.
Except for when he’d shown up to rescue her from her uncle.
Jaymzon was going for a weird industrial fusion vibe and had set up a chain fall to do the actual hoisting. She was a little surprised when Kel stepped in, insisting on fully testing the rig to his satisfaction before allowing the actual suspension to go forward.
Jaymzon stood there, arms crossed over his enormous and likely steroid-assisted pecs, as Kel checked it out.
“You don’t think I know my job?” the older rigger asked.
Mallory suspected from the man’s tone of voice that he wasn’t used to people challenging him. And that he damn sure didn’t like it.
Kel, outweighed and a couple of inches shorter than the man, didn’t flinch. “She’s my model,” he said in a tone she didn’t quite recognize. “You of all people should understand that responsibility. She’s here because I asked her to fill in, and it’s her first gig.”
Well, okay, Kel hadn’t exactly asked her, but Mallory wasn’t about to correct him.
Jaymzon held up his palms, placating Kel. “Whoa, chill. Didn’t mean any disrespect.” Then the rigger looked at her, his gaze narrowing and a smile filling his face, chilling her.
Mallory fought the urge to shudder in revulsion.
* * * *
Fuck. Oh, fuck, oh fuck, oh fucking christ why the hell did I tell him it was her first fucking gig?
He might as well have dropped a slab of raw cow inside a pit of starving lions and expected them not to pounce. It’d been hard enough on him watching the man pawing at Mal while he’d rigged her. This was a far different scenario than when she played with his friends during a scene.
His friends weren’t trying to poach her out from under him, were only interested in topping her, not taking her from him. His friends recognized boundaries and never did anything she didn’t want done.
Jaymzon turned his back on Kel and walked over to where Mal was motionlessly waiting in the tied rig for the suspension portion to continue.
“Your very first gig, huh?” He chuckled. “Kel didn’t warn me I had a virgin. Had I known that, I would have brought more gear. I’m always on the lookout for new talent.”
Kel knew his next words risked farking both his relationship with Mal, as well as jeopardizing the job he was currently doing. “My other model flaked out at the last minute today. I couldn’t get another one to replace her in time. When I said Mal is my model, I wasn’t specific enough. Allow me to clarify. I meant Mal is mine.”
Relief filled him as Jaymzon stopped in his tracks and turned to look at him. “She’s yours yours?”
“That’s right. She’s mine mine. She belongs to me.” At least the asshole recognized and respected protocols.
Usually.
The rigger’s chin lifted as he stared down at Kel. “Is this going to be a problem?”
“If I thought it was going to be a problem, I wouldn’t have agreed to let her do this sho
ot. As long as that boundary isn’t going to be a problem for you. I apologize for not clarifying my relationship with her earlier, but I’m a professional, and I really didn’t think it mattered in this case. Because it doesn’t. I don’t have a problem with her doing this gig or I never would have asked her to do it. She had the option to say no. I didn’t force her to do this.” In fact, Mallory had asked him to do it, but he wasn’t about to tell the rigger that.
Jaymzon’s guys silently watched them banter, their heads pivoting as if they were observing a tennis match. Kel didn’t risk glancing at Mal to see how she’d reacted to his declaration.
All he cared about was not backing down from this guy. He didn’t want to appear weak, but he also didn’t want to appear to be some jealous fuck of a boyfriend, either. Riggers and photographers hated when boyfriends attended shoots with models. It rarely failed to fuck things up, especially if the boyfriends weren’t in the lifestyle and didn’t understand the intimate contact sometimes needed even when just tying a rig and not doing a sexual scene.
And the last thing Kel needed to get was a bad rep among professional riggers, and in the process fark any hopes of booking future fetish shoots with other big-name riggers.
* * * *
Mallory didn’t dare breathe, didn’t dare speak.
That one word, in Kel’s voice, kept echoing through her brain. Her soul.
Mine.
She didn’t know if he’d said it to stop the progressively creepy contact the rigger had been having with her, or if he’d really meant it.
Frankly, she didn’t care at that moment.
Kel was looking out for her, protecting her. She’d take whatever she could get from him and clarify it later.
All that mattered was that they made it through the shoot without the rigger canceling or making her feel like she’d been groped by a senior citizen octopus.
The rigger finally answered. “It’s not a problem for me. Like I said, I didn’t even realize you two were an item.”
She suspected now that the rigger had given ground, Kel would meet him halfway to smooth things over.
He didn’t disappoint. “Like I said, my apologies for the confusion. I really wanted to do this shoot with you. It’s not a problem for me, but her safety and welfare are my responsibility, as you can understand. I didn’t mean for it to come off sounding like I didn’t trust your skills.” Kel shrugged, offering up a smile Mallory saw right through but suspected the other men wouldn’t. “You know how it is. Never want to drop someone. I know how safety-conscious you are. It’s one of the things I highly respect about you. But so am I, and I take my responsibility to her seriously. She has placed her trust in me. I won’t violate that.”
When Jaymzon nodded, she realized the rigger would be okay with this. Kel had offered up just enough ass-kissing to soothe the man’s ego, while marking his territory in an unmistakable way.
“No hard feelings,” Jaymzon said. Then he turned back to Mallory and smiled. “And my apologies if I overstepped any bounds.”
Now she risked a glance at Kel, who imperceptibly tipped his chin in a nod. “It’s okay,” she said. “I was just really excited when he said I could do this. Your work is absolutely amazing…”
Sure enough, the groping stopped. And with her playing along like a star-struck teenybopper who’d scored backstage passes to a boy band concert, the rigger’s mood quickly brightened even as he toned down the banter.
The rigging was difficult, uncomfortable, and in a few cases painful, despite the safety precautions and pre-rigging done before the actual suspensions.
By the time they finished in the wee hours before dawn, she realized she’d survived it and performed like a champ.
Kel led her over to one of the couches to curl up under a blanket while the men broke down their equipment and loaded up. Before leaving, Jaymzon walked over and deferred to Kel before squatting next to the couch and extending his hand to Mal.
“Beautiful shoot, Mallory,” he said. “I wouldn’t have known you’d never done a shoot before. You handled it like a pro. If you ever want to work with me again, it’d be my pleasure.”
She shook with him. “Thank you. I have a fantastic teacher and rigger who showed me the ropes,” she said, her gaze fixed firmly on Kel’s face.
He smiled. A genuine, bright smile.
Jaymzon stood and offered his hand to Kel, who also shook with him. “You certainly have done a marvelous job working together,” Jaymzon said. “And yes, I’d love to work with you again, too. It’s refreshing to see there’s someone who can mix work and their relationship and not let it fuck up either.”
“Thanks.”
Kel saw them out first. When he returned, he sat down on the end of the couch with Mallory’s head in his lap. He laced his fingers through hers and brought them up to his mouth, feathering his lips across them.
“Guess we need to talk, huh?” he finally said, breaking the silence.
She swallowed. “Okay.”
He gently squeezed her hands and seemed to be composing his thoughts. She didn’t interrupt him.
“I made a rule after my last breakup not to get involved with anyone who didn’t have their act together.”
She felt her heart on the verge of breaking. “I understand,” she whispered.
“Stop. Let me finish.” He took a deep breath before looking into her eyes. “You’re in a vulnerable place right now, emotionally, and with your life. I also don’t want to be an idiot. Let’s amend our original agreement, if you want to. Let’s date. Take our time. There’s no rush. I want our first time together to be perfect, but there’s things you need to know about me before you decide if you want a relationship with me.”
She’d swung from heartbreak to highest hopes in the space of a breath. “Okay.”
“I don’t have casual sex. I want to be in a relationship. But if you’re going to be in a relationship with me, you need to know more about me. About the side of me you haven’t seen yet.”
“I want to see that side.”
“You sure? It’s dark and full of shadows.”
She nodded.
He helped her sit up, then stood and offered her his hands. “Then let’s go home and talk some more.”
Chapter Eighteen
Despite her exhaustion, Mallory’s brain raced, wired on adrenaline from his admission. Kel settled her on the couch before he went back downstairs to retrieve his laptop from the office.
When he sat next to her, he tucked her against his side, one arm draped around her shoulders. “It’s okay if you change your mind,” he said. “You won’t hurt my feelings.”
He typed in his password and navigated to a folder of pictures that needed yet another password to access.
In them, pictures not just of shibari, but of piercings, needle play, branding, cell popping.
Cutting.
He rested his head against hers. “This is me,” he quietly said. “This is the darker side of me. It’s easy to find people who want to model for something, or participate in a scene, but it’s far more difficult to find someone who will tolerate a long-term partner who wants to turn them into their personal canvas on a regular basis.”
She reached out and swiped through the pictures, entranced and terrified at the same time.
Terrified in the good way.
“We can still be friends and date and play partners and maybe even more, even if you don’t want to do this,” he said. “But I won’t ever lie to you. I have to be honest with you that the person who becomes my life-partner needs to be able to deal with this part of me. Participate in it. Be okay with it.”
She looked into his eyes again. “I trust you. I want to be with you.”
“You really want to be with me?”
Mallory nodded, throat dry, heart racing.
He gently grasped her chin. “I thought you weren’t into pain or edge play.”
“I’m not. I mean, I don’t get off on it like some people do.”
“I don’t want an unwilling partner.”
“I am willing. I just need you to go slow, you know?”
“Have you ever tried needle play before?”
She shook her head.
“You might hate it.”
“Won’t know until I try.”
“Why don’t we start with something easier than that.”
“Like what?”
“Knife play.”
A shiver ran through her, from the tips of her toes to the roots of her hair. “Okay.”
He smiled. “You ever do knife play before?”
“No. But I want to try it.”
“Have you seen it before?”
“Yeah. Sensation and wet.”
“Ah. You knew where I was going with that.”
“I wouldn’t mind a little blood and cutting, but nothing deep or detailed for my first one, please.”
“Wise negotiation.”
Who was she kidding? Just looking at him made her horny, the thought of him wanting her, wanting to play with her at least. She’d do nearly anything he asked of her.
Here, smuggle these Junior Mints into the movies for me in your purse.
Okay.
Here, rob this liquor store for me.
Okay.
Well, okay, not the second one. Not that he’d ever ask her to do that.
But she’d definitely smuggle chocolate into a theatre for him.
Hell, she’d smuggle a gallon of milk and a bottle of chocolate sauce into a theatre for him just so he could have chocolate milk, if he wanted it.
I’m sick.
“Are you even attracted to me?” she asked. “Or are you just attracted to the fact that I’m someone different to play with?”
His expression softened. Before she realized what he was doing, he’d leaned in and placed a slow, gentle, tender kiss on her lips.
“I’m attracted to you. Every bit of you. And if you can’t see that, I don’t know what I can do to prove it to you. If we’re going to have any hope of being together, you have to be able to trust me. Part of that is being able to take me at my word. Can you do that?”
His Canvas [Suncoast Society] (Siren Publishing Sensations) Page 12
