by Iris Blaire
Rylan sighs from the counter.
“I don’t have a problem with that.” When Britain raises her eyebrow skeptically, I add, “Really. The only thing I won’t be able to do is cock shots.”
Britain busts up laughing. “Okay. No cock shots. I can swing that.”
“No, seriously. Undergrads are going to see enough of me in this magazine as it is. I’m done with my teaching hours now—today was my last day—”
“Congratulations.”
“Thank you. But they’re still going to remember me.”
“Sounds like this one’s prone to humiliation,” says Rylan. “I don’t think he has the guts to take on the job, to be honest.”
What’s this chick’s deal?
“Don’t mind her.” Britain winks. “She’s just mad because you’re a part of her—”
“Brit! Shut the fuck up!”
Britain sighs. “We’ll let the camera decide how humiliated you are, shall we?” She glances at a closed door on the other end of the living room. “All we need now is the damn modelette.”
“Excuse me?”
“Delilah is the one you’ll be shooting with for the test. We’re only attempting to do male additions with her at first until we see the response.”
Delilah—that would make sense. She’s the edgiest model, from what I can remember.
“But we just finished a shoot where she was covered in chocolate syrup, and I guess she needs a few hours to recover with a shower and hair and makeup. God, I didn’t think it would take this long. You don’t have anywhere to be, do you?”
I shake my head at the same time another male model walks into the room from down the hall. He wears nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist. Nodding at me, he says, “’Sup, Bro.”
“Uhh… ‘Sup.”
“This is Adam, our first hired male model. Adam, where’s Delilah?”
Adam shrugs. “Last I saw her, she was just getting out of the shower.”
Britain sighs. “Great. Well, I don’t have all day. And I’m sure you don’t have all day.”
“I’m… really, I’m fine.”
“Hey Rylan, You’re up.”
I turn to look at Rylan. Her eyes are bugging out of her head as she clutches her empty glass in front of her. A look of horror.
So the hottest model of EPE hates me for no reason. I’m off to a good start.
Chapter Three
Evan
“Hell no!” I practically scream.
There is no fucking way I’m going to do those things Delilah and Adam just did with a guy from my department. Does Britain want me to fail college? God, and he’s so gorgeous too.
This is bad. Dallas is just one big awful distraction that needs to go.
“I can tell I’m wanted here,” Dallas says dryly. Britain shoots me a look of contempt.
“No, Dallas, it’s not that I don’t like you,” I try to counter quickly. “It’s just… you know, I have an image to uphold in my shoots. An untouched, virginal image, apparently, and Britain and I specifically decided there’d be no boys in my photo shoots.”
“Well if that’s your problem.” Britain hops up from the couch. “I never said I’d be using these photos in the magazine, did I?” She grins. “This is just a test.”
I hate my best friend sometimes. I open my mouth, but unless I give away to Dallas that I’m in his department, I have no argument.
“Go change into what you are wearing for your shoot today, please,” Britain orders.
“Yes, your majesty,” I say through gritted teeth, and stomp off toward the makeup room. I hate her I hate her I hate her…
“What’s got your panties in a twist?” Nora asks as I walk into the dressing room. When I don’t respond, she says, “Can I do anything to help?”
“Kill me?”
“I wouldn’t go that far, but I do have some fake blood in my kit somewhere.”
Maybe that would do, I could cover myself in fake blood and then Britain would have to send me to the showers. I get a hold of myself and simply thank nora for her efforts, changing into what’s laid out for me—A white lace bandeau bra and panties, and a blush pink sundress. Little Rylan, innocent as ever. I dress and examine myself in the mirror. With my hair this big, I look like a brunette Barbie doll.
I gag at myself in the mirror and head out toward the pool.
Dallas is in nothing but a pair of white gauze pants, gazing around. “This place is damn nice. You rent the whole house just for shooting?”
“We live here too,” Britain says. I shoot her a glare. Next she’ll tell him what my real name is, for the love of God.
“Who takes care of the pool?”
“The pool guy.”
“Yes, the pool guy, like normal houses,” I say, interrupting their chit chat. “Can we get this over with already?”
“Alright, Miss Bossy Pants.” Britain readies her camera. Pointing to one of the white-washed walnut lounge chairs, she says, “Dallas go sit over there.”
He does as he’s told, lounging back. His skin barely glistens, capturing the light from the sun.
“Now straddle the chair. Rylan, go sit in front of him.”
I slowly walk across the smooth stone surrounding the clean water, toward Dallas. His piercing blue eyes are on me the whole time—relaxed. Maybe even a bit excited.
I think I’m going to throw up. Get a hold of yourself, Evan.
I swing my leg over the chair, sitting in front of him so that I too am facing the water.
Britain walks over to us and squats in front of her chair, bringing the camera up to her face. “Scoot together.”
We do so until his hard torso presses against my back. His breath tickles my ear as he says, “This is kind of awkward for a first meeting, isn’t it?”
I bite back my grin. Cute and charming. Fuck me, I am never going to be able to stop thinking about these next moments.
But this will be it. I’ll get this test shoot out of the way and then I won’t have to shoot with Dallas again. That will be Delilah’s job. I couple minutes with Dallas is all I have. Maybe I should just loosen up and enjoy the only male contact I’ve had in a year, and probably all I’ll have until I finish my PhD.
“Scenario,” Britain begins. “Rylan, I want you to keep up that virginal persona of yours. This is the first time you’ve ever been touched by a boy. Shouldn’t be too hard for you.”
“Fuck you,” I snap before realizing that Dallas is going to find this work environment incredibly hostile if I don’t keep my mouth under control. Luckily for me, he reacts by giving a deep and throaty chuckle. My heart begins to hammer in my chest.
“Dallas, I want you to unwrap her like a Christmas present. Rylan, I want to see every touch of his written on your face. Let’s see you two make magic.”
Your one chance to get some action in, Evan. Forget your biases. Roll with it.
I lean my head back and breathe, “You heard what she said. Touch me.”
I don’t know what, but I’m not expecting him to listen. Maybe because, what I’ve seen from Dallas, he seems more awkward than anything else. But he does listen. I feel his slow breath on my jaw as his hand slides across my stomach and he pulls me right up against him, my ass snug against his groin.
“Where do you want me to start?” he whispers.
Oh, God. Oh, God.
Slowly, the hand resting on my stomach trails up the center hem of my dress. He reaches the top and hooks his thumb beneath the fabric. The moment his lips brush against the cusp of my ear, he drags my dress down until my bandeau is fully exposed.
I hear Britain snapping away. I think she might be giving me direction, but I don’t want to focus on her. I don’t care about the outcome of this shoot at all. I just want to feel Dallas’s hands touching me in places I haven’t been touched in ages.
He drags his hand back up my bare skin and to my bandeau, cupping my breast. I let my head fall back, a small moan escaping my mouth.
; “We’re not recording audio, are we?” I can hear the amusement in his voice. “Or was that noise you elicited not for the camera?”
“Shut up,” I breathe. I raise my arms up and behind my head, wrapping them around his neck. His free hand rests on my thigh, slowly inching upward and beneath the skirt of my dress. He’s going to feel how wet I am, and we’re not even doing anything.
In one quick motion I flip my body around so I’m facing him. I sit up and squeeze his hips with my knees, hands finding his shoulders and pressing him back against the lounge chair.
His eyes are surprised, but his mouth is twisted into a smile, like he knows something that I don’t.
I rock my hips into his, feeling how hard he is.
“This isn’t very virginal of you,” he mutters.
Oh yeah, I’m supposed to be keeping character. But facing him, I can study him more closely—his bold jaw that I want to run my tongue over, his full bottom lip that I want to bite…
Britain moves closer, changing her angle. “Dallas, get her out of that dress. Ry, be unsure of him.”
As he pulls down my dress, his fingers graze the curve of my ass. Be unsure of him? How can I be unsure of him when I want him so fucking bad?
He doesn’t give me a chance to ponder. Keeping one hand pressed to my back, he pushes me forward until I’m lying on the chair and he’s on top of me.
Britain’s voice floats through the air. “Lift your arms above your head, Ry.”
I listen to her. Dallas hovers over me, sliding the dress over my knees and off my ankles until I’m in nothing but my bandeau and panties. Our eyes connect, and suddenly, even with the bright light of the afternoon day, there is something dark and wicked lingering in them. Something far different than what I saw in him yesterday as he stumbled through the Power Point at the front of the lecture hall.
In an instant, being unsure of him comes naturally. I bite my lower lip as he dips his head to the flesh beneath my navel. His tongue glides above the ridge of my panties. I hiss and buck my hips. My skin vibrates with his laughter. He’s aware of how much this is killing me.
This session just turned from smoldering hot to pure torture.
“Lick her neck,” Britain instructs.
Okay, now it’s pure torture.
Dallas crawls forward until his body covers mine. “Don’t mind me,” he murmurs, still grinning. I want to counter with something clever but all that’s escaping my mouth are rapid spurts of breath.
He lowers himself until his chest is pressed against mine. He keeps himself steady with one hand and uses the other cup my neck. His nose brushes against mine and I part my lips, wondering if he’s going to kiss me. Wondering if I’m okay with that.
“Close your eyes,” he orders. I let them flutter shut and wait.
I gasp when his tongue sweeps my throat, finding a sweet spot behind my ear and sucking.
“Don’t move,” says Britain. “You look perfectly shocked right now, Ry.”
I hold my breath, trying my hardest not to move or change my expression. As I do so, Dallas runs the pad of his thumb against my jaw and whispers into my ear, “You’re good at faking it.”
He’s teasing me. He’s teasing me because he knows my reaction was real.
“And that’s a wrap,” Britain says.
I exhale. I need to get this boy off me before I start panting like an animal. But he doesn’t release me. Instead, he pulls me to his chest, grabs beneath my legs, and picks me up.
“What are you doing?” I yell.
He starts to run toward the pool. I’m screaming obscenities and Britain’s laughing and suddenly I can’t hear her anymore, because cold water engulfs me.
I swim to the surface, spitting water from my mouth. Dallas is treading water next to me, looking too smug for my tastes.
I want to kill him.
I want to ravish him, and then I want to kill him.
“You’re hired!” Britain screams.
Dallas
I’ve taken three cold showers since I’ve been home.
Luckily, Tricia’s so wrapped up in her work that she doesn’t seem to notice. It helps that I try not to get my hair wet, aiming the freezing cold jet of water right toward my cock.
Every time I even think of Rylan, I get hard again. The way she writhed beneath me like she wasn’t rolling her eyes at me the moment before. She acted like she hated me until I touched her. And then something happened. It was like she wanted me—like she really wanted me.
I turn the shower off and stand there, cold and dripping. And then I think about the way she tasted—sweet, like frosting.
I groan and turn the shower back on. There isn’t anything I’d rather be doing than getting off to the thought of Rylan Willow for the rest of the night, but there’s a seminar tonight on mitochondria and metabolism, and their flying in the scientists from Philadelphia. All serious grad students will be there.
And, damnit, I’m giving up med school to go into field research, so I must be a serious grad student.
Finally, when I think I can manage to go five minutes without getting a hard-on, I leave the shower and change into a t-shirt and jeans. In the living room, Tricia still sits on the couch with her computer in her lap, completely invested in her work. Tricia works as a web designer, or I should say, lives as a web designer. Dressed in yoga pants and a tank top, she doesn’t even look at me as I walk past her. Recently she cut her straight hair super short so she didn’t even have to style it between rolling out of bed and getting to work. The cut fits her face nicely, I just wish she’d actually look at me more so I could see how it looks from the front.
I sit on the couch next to her, wrapping my arm around her shoulder as she continues to clack away at her keyboard. She’s emailing someone—must be a client.
“You going out?” she said.
“Yeah,” I scratch my head. “I am. You wouldn’t want to come to a seminar on mitochondria and metabolism, would you?”
“I’d love to,” she says with such a straight face that I can’t tell if she’s being sarcastic or just not paying attention. “But these clients are murdering me.”
I kiss right beneath her ear. “How about I pick up a bottle of pinot on the way home and we can forget about our clothes for the night?”
She turns to face me, pecking me quickly on the lips. “Maybe, babe. You know I’d love for nothing more. But this client is paying this month’s rent.”
I sigh, and slide my arm from her. “I’ll be back in a few hours.”
She says nothing as a leave the apartment. Connecting with Tricia lately has been difficult. She loves her job and works hard at it, mainly because we’re both buried in student loans and rent in this area isn’t exactly cheap. It’s why she pushed for me to audition for EPE. Maybe, if the gig actually gives me a solid paycheck, she’ll be able to work less and things can go back to being like how they were when we started dating three years ago. Passionate. Somewhat interesting. More action with her than with my hand.
^^^^
The parking lot near the science building is packed when I get to school. This guy is a big deal, but I didn’t realize that every department in sciences and mathematics would be attending.
When I enter the building, I push through people near the auditorium and hurry up to the biology office to check my mailbox before the event. As I’m leaving, sifting through papers that one of my professors dropped off for me to grade, I don’t notice the person darting through the hallway.
I manage to hold onto my papers as her shoulder connects with mine, but she drops her books. They’re some of the published theory from the lecturer I—we—are about to attending.
“Shit,” she mutters, stooping to pick them up.
“Damnit, I’m so sorry.” I bend down to pick up a book that flew extra far. She grabs it at the same time, and I look up at her.
She wears these chunky hipster glasses with dark blue frames, her dark hair piled on top of her head in a messy bun
. He t-shirt says, Dear Algebra, Stop asking us to find your X. She’s not coming back. And when our eyes meet, her expression morphs to terror. We both simultaneously stand, staring at each other.
“Rylan?”
She slaps me hard across the face.
Chapter Four
Evan
I can lose him in this crowd.
There are enough people in the hall to dart around and get away from Dallas. Night class must just be starting. I rush away from him and around the corner, but he’s desperate to keep up with me.
“Rylan!” he shouts again. “What the hell was that for?”
I spin on my heel to face him. “Are you and idiot? Don’t you ever call me that name at school again!” I hiss.
And then it dawns on him. “Oh.”
I scoff and march away from him, but he doesn’t get the hint. Right on my tail, he asks, “So what am I supposed to call you, then?”
I give in, halting and leaning against the hallway wall. People rush out of classrooms and down to the auditorium. The symposium’s going to start at any moment. I’m going to get a terrible seat. “Nothing, Dallas. You’re supposed to call me nothing, because you aren’t supposed to run into me on campus. People shouldn’t see us together.”
He narrows those gorgeous blue eyes of his. “Why?”
I sigh. I really would rather not discuss this in the middle of an East Park hallway. “Because,” I whisper. He leans in close. “Britain’s going to use the photos from the shoot.”
His eyes widen. “Are you serious?”
I hate the fact that I have to nod. Before I left for class, Britain told me that the photos from the shoot were so good that there was no way she couldn’t use them. I yelled at her a lot. And then I left.
“So soon, everyone will see the two of us mostly-naked in the magazine, and then if we’re seen around campus, people will put two and two together.”
