Okay, looking back on it, maybe I could see what Preston was saying. “Roman should have said something.”
Reece broke in. “You two scream at each other, you don’t communicate.”
So maybe he had a point too.
“He’s gone, and the drama is over. It’s not like we were dating.” One jerk-off session did not make a relationship.
“But you wanted one. That’s the problem. You two felt strongly about one another, and the only way you’d let it out was with anger. But now that the anger is gone, all you have left are the softer emotions you were denying.” Houston’s quiet words made me want to throw something at him.
“It’s over.” We all needed to see that and move on. “There’s nothing left to pick up and try to put back together. Hell, there wasn’t anything there to begin with.” As much as I hated to admit it, that was the truth.
“He hates brats and anybody he considers an attention whore, and I’m not willing to change for anyone.” No man was worth that. “I’ve lived that lie, and I won’t go back to it.”
Then, knowing there was nothing else to say, I got up and walked away. I wasn’t going to change for a man who hated everything I loved about myself.
Chapter 11
Roman
“Unfortunately, there is no way to get around it.” I’d tried to figure out one. But every path led me back to the same point.
Calling Eli.
I’d thought about finding a new model and trying to capture the same feeling in the photographs, but I knew that wouldn’t work. With a client, I could talk to them about their husband or boyfriend, or hell, even the guy they wanted to meet someday. But with a model who wasn’t into the lifestyle and was just there to have his picture taken, I didn’t think it would work.
I needed pictures of someone who would draw people in, and who would make them want to have the same experience. Eli was hot, but not so incredible he looked like some unattainable model, and he radiated a sensuality in the photos that people would envy.
Finding another way to go about it had taken days, but in the end, I’d kept coming back to Eli. I’d searched through photos I’d taken over the years, but none were quite right. Most of the shots were too vanilla and too obviously staged.
As I’d gone through countless boudoir-style photos online, the ones that looked more natural were the best. Like the photos with Eli, they needed to be well planned out, but not look awkward and fake. Eli’s were perfect because his response held nothing artificial. Nothing acted or disingenuous, just Eli lost in passion.
I wasn’t sure I could recreate that magic with a stranger.
Sure, I knew the photos of customers would turn out good, and the more I thought about it, the more confident I became about how it would work. But the pictures that pulled them in and convinced them to trust me had to be perfect.
Perfect meant Eli.
Doing my best to resist the urge to curse him under my breath, I stopped pacing in my small apartment and went for the stack of papers on the table. Digging through copies of schedules and new hire paperwork that had never gotten put away, I found the list of phone numbers I’d been given.
There it was.
Just after lunch on a Sunday probably wasn’t a bad time to call. Pushing aside the angry voice about what he might have been doing late the previous night, I picked up my phone and started dialing. It rang long enough that I thought it would go to voicemail, but right before I was ready to hang up, I heard him answer.
His voice was a little out of breath and tired. “Hello?”
One quick mental shove and I spoke, trying to keep my voice as businesslike as possible. “This is Roman Landry. I have a quick question for you about the photos that we took.”
There was a long pause before Eli finally spoke. “Yes, what about them?”
The fact that he hadn’t hung up screaming at me gave me a boost of confidence. We could handle it like adults. “Some of the photos we shot were not suitable for the site, so I didn’t send those to the company. However, I would like to get permission from you to use them in another project I’m working on.”
“I’m not—” His angry voice cut off abruptly. “I apologize, please continue.”
Unsure about what he’d been starting to say, I ignored it and continued in the blandest tone I could muster. “I am going to be taking boudoir-style photos of individuals and couples in the lifestyle, and I would like to use some of your photos in my portfolio. But considering the nature of the pictures, I wanted to obtain your permission first.”
There was another long pause before Eli finally began talking. “How would you be using them? I have my reasons for not putting my face all over the internet, and it’s not because I’m ashamed of what I’m doing, if that’s what you think.”
Biting back an angry retort that wouldn’t get me what I wanted, I took a deep breath. “I realize that. There are a lot of people who have similar concerns. Some, where your face is obscured or could be easily cropped out, would be put on the main page of my website, but any photos that show your identity would be strictly for private clients who are trying to decide what kind of shoot they’re comfortable doing.”
“So the anonymous pictures go on the site and the more personal stuff where I could be recognized would be, what…on there too, just behind a password?” Eli clearly didn’t like that idea, but I was just shocked he hadn’t hung up.
“There are a few options. Having the photos behind a password is one, but if you’d be more comfortable, I could have them strictly available to see in person where there wouldn’t be the chance of someone copying them and posting them other places.” I’d thought of several different options, but that one seemed like the best idea.
“So like one of those coffee table books?”
“Something like that, once I get more photos to include in a collection. For now, I’d probably just have prints for them to see when they come in.” I liked the idea of the book, but when the only photos I had were of Eli in those panties, an entire book wasn’t an option.
He was quiet, but it wasn’t an awkward silence. I could almost hear him thinking through the idea. When he spoke it was calm and almost businesslike. “I know a few guys who’d like to have something like that done of their subs. Sexy pictures for their playrooms and stuff.”
“Yes, it’s hard finding photographers in the area that do anything like it, at least, from what I’ve seen.” I’d been researching different avenues for acquiring new customers and looking for competition for the last couple of days, and I hadn’t found anything that looked remotely close to what I was doing.
“Yeah, I bet. Sam finally took photos of his sub himself, but he isn’t really pleased with how they turned out.” Eli seemed to like the business concept, but he still hadn’t responded to the initial question.
“Would you be comfortable with me showing the photos in that kind of setting to lifestyle couples and individuals who wouldn’t have access to copying them?” I held my breath as he considered the question.
Several times I looked down at the phone to make sure we were still connected. We were, but he was so quiet I couldn’t even hear his breathing. Finally, he started to talk. “Now, the only reason I’m even offering this is because I feel a little bit responsible about how everything went down.”
That wasn’t the answer I was looking for, but it wasn’t no, so I tried not to fuck it up. “Alright.”
If I kept my mouth shut, maybe he wouldn’t lose his marbles.
Eli took a deep breath and continued while I waited on eggshells for his response. “The pictures might have turned out great, but with just the one shoot and look, it won’t be enough.”
What was he offering? I knew by the way he was speaking that he thought what he was hinting at was clearer, but I wasn’t going to assume. Did he think that it wasn’t any use with only the handful of photos I’d pick from the shoot? It wouldn’t be the greatest start, but I’d made do with less.
> Thankfully, Eli continued. “If you think we can make it work, I’d be willing to do another shoot with a similar theme or some kind of lifestyle theme for you to use in a portfolio book. Not online, mind you, just in person.”
“Thank you, and I want you to know that I understand privacy, Eli. The lifestyle is personal, and people don’t always understand.” Even after having everything blasted all over the internet and explained numerous times, some people in my family still didn’t get it.
He cleared his throat. “Everyone here knows who I am and what I do. I don’t hide it. However, my family is very conservative and wouldn’t understand. I realize that at some point they’re going to find out. Hell, if they googled me they’d probably come up with more information than I want them to know. But as of now, they’re in the dark, and I’d like to keep it that way for as long as possible.”
I would have loved to have been able to say my family didn’t know what I was doing. “That makes sense, and I wouldn’t violate your privacy. I could add a clause about the photos just being used in person to the contract to make sure that couldn’t change.”
Eli immediately started talking, the wheels in his mind already turning. “And that the photos couldn’t be sold without my permission…I’m not saying I don’t trust you, but if you get hit by a bus and your family inherits them and tries to sell them or something…Well, maybe I’m crazy, but—”
I broke in on the rambling worries that were starting to get out of hand. “No, the concern is valid. I’ll update the contract to state that the photos I take of you can’t be sold without your permission, and that they’re only for use in print for the purpose of illustrating the types of photos that can be taken in the new business.”
It would be limiting for me if the shit hit the fan between us again, but it was better than nothing. Once everything got off the ground, I could continue to grow my portfolio, but it would work for the time being. “Thank you for your willingness to take the photos.”
“Like I said, it’s kind of my fault. I didn’t realize the situation with your ex.”
Wincing, because I’d half-hoped that they hadn’t seen all the drama, I tried not to sound emotional. “Thank you. I should have asked more questions and not made assumptions.” And not reacted to every bratty thing that he’d done.
“Listen,” Eli sighed. “I don’t think doing this in the studio is a good idea. Permission and stuff isn’t the issue, but I don’t want an audience.”
I didn’t want an audience or to be arrested for trespassing. “My apartment is small, but I could make it work if you’re comfortable doing it here.”
“Small” really didn’t do the large closet I was living in justice, but someplace public wasn’t really an option with the kinds of photos I would be taking.
Eli’s voice sounded distracted, like he was thinking through the idea as he was talking. “We could do it here…I have a guest room that’s basically empty and would make a good neutral backdrop because other than painting an accent wall, there wasn’t much I had done to it.”
Was he talking about his place?
“Your apartment?”
“Well, house but yeah. I think there’s enough variety that we could do a few shoots if we want to. I have some props and things that would give the photos different looks. Then you should have enough for a full book. I think that would look more professional.” He sounded more businesslike than I’d ever heard from him, and it was almost startling.
“That would be fine.” It would be perfect, as long as his place was at least one or two steps above mine.
“Great. I have a lot going on this week, but I could either do next weekend…or I guess later this afternoon, if that would work.” Eli was starting to sound a little less sure, so I jumped in.
“I think today would be fine.” Glancing down, I winced at how rough I looked. “Um, let’s say two hours, if that works for you?”
“That’s fine.” Eli seemed relieved to have the decision made. “Do you have something to write my address down with?”
“One second.” After grabbing a piece of paper and jotting down the unfamiliar address, I said goodbye, and we hung up awkwardly.
It’d gone better than I’d expected, but somehow I was still disappointed.
I wasn’t sure what I’d been picturing, but the stilted conversation with a man who sounded like a stranger wasn’t it. Telling myself it had to be better than just screaming at each other, the words felt hollow.
Would it affect the pictures?
I pushed back the little voice that whispered the photos weren’t what I was concerned about. They were the only things that mattered. The passion that the anger generated made the original photos incredible; it was only natural that the lack of emotion in his voice would concern me.
If I could have gotten that shoot out of my head, everything would have been easier.
If I could have gotten the look on his face out of my head, it would have been perfect.
If I could have gotten the feel of my hands on his body out of my head, I might have been able to move on. But there wasn’t anything to move on from.
Forcing myself to walk away from the table, I headed for the bathroom. I needed clothes and to look like I hadn’t been living like a bum. I was not going to show up at his house looking like a teenager pining over an ex.
We hadn’t even dated.
One hand job and a few incredible pictures didn’t make a relationship.
Doing my best to shove the random, useless thoughts out of my mind, I turned on the water in the shower and shook my head at my reflection. “Your sorry ass needs to function.”
It was going to blow up in my face, but even knowing that, there wasn’t anything I could do about it. I needed the photos. I needed to be able to show people that I was a real photographer who could take beautiful pictures. That I could capture the passion and honesty the lifestyle illustrated so perfectly.
Eli was simply going to help me accomplish that.
But the way he’d looked, stretched out and aching for me, wouldn’t leave my head. Even as I stripped my clothes off and stepped into the shower, the desire and need that had radiated from him was like a neon sign in my head, flashing his perfection and arousal.
He’d looked up at me with a submission and desire that would never be matched, and for that one moment, he’d been the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. Once he’d pleaded for me and had given himself to me, there was no way I could have held myself back. Touching him had been instinctive, like breathing.
Leaning on the smooth plastic of the cheap shower, I let the spray wash over me, and I took my cock in my hand. I probably should have felt guilty, but all I wanted to do was sink into the memory. Closing my eyes, I teased at the head of my dick with my thumb, loving the way it sent shivers through me.
As I gave in to the slow strokes that my cock wanted, my mind brought up the image of Eli stretched out for me. With his body desperate for more, he’d fought to stay still and submit to whatever I’d wanted. His hard cock had jerked and leaked precum while he begged with words and desperate sounds that had gone straight to my dick.
My own hand moved faster as the memories raced across my mind. As the images switched to the tempting things I’d wanted to do to him, it was all I could do to hold my orgasm back. I could almost feel him spread out under me as I slid into him, fucking him and taking him harder and pushing him higher.
Streams of cum shot out as the pleasure flooded through me. Forcing my eyes open as my orgasm faded, I stepped into the cooling spray of the water, trying to chase the images and the not-quite-satisfied need away.
I might have just come, but there was an empty feeling that I knew wouldn’t fade anytime soon.
Chapter 12
Eli
I was an idiot.
There was no other way to describe it.
Pacing through the house, watching the clock count down to the impending disaster, I couldn't even explain why
I’d done it. Sure, guilt had been a primary motivator, but I’d felt bad over a lot of things in my life, and they’d never caused me to do anything quite that stupid.
I’d asked Roman over.
Maybe it was the distance I’d had from the situation…maybe it was because I’d finally been able to see it from a different perspective…maybe it was just because I missed him, but I was ready to see him again.
It’d taken days and another long conversation with Reece before I’d finally admitted the truth. I could have fixed things sooner. I could have stopped being difficult long enough to ask questions, and I could have stopped responding to everything with anger.
Not the drama. I didn’t feel bad about that part.
Even if he’d meant everything he’d said—and I still wasn’t sure he hadn’t—that didn’t mean I’d needed to fight back with such venom. Walking away was always an option. I just hadn’t even tried to do it.
Something about him just made me crazy.
It was like some kind of fucked-up mirror. Every emotion he gave me was magnified, and I had to send it back. The anger, the disdain, the passion, the pleasure…it all bounced back and forth until something exploded.
I was a brat, but no one else made me that insane.
I couldn’t decide if I was addicted to the drama and didn’t want to walk away, or if there was really something between us. Probably both. In those precious moments before he’d stormed out of the studio, everything had been perfect.
All I’d wanted was to curl into him and let him wrap his body around me, then deep in me. With the right guy and the right situation, it didn’t take much to send me to subspace. But it was finding the perfect balance of man and trust that was the difficult part. Roman had hit every button.
He hadn’t taken shit from me.
The spanking had been perfect.
He’d taken control without doubting that I would behave.
Every. Fuckin’. Button.
I wanted it again.
I was an addict, and he was my drug of choice. Or at least that was the way it felt to me. Reece talked about the passion he’d seen between us and about the fiery way we’d rubbed against each other when we argued. He’d said that every time we’d interacted, he’d expected an explosion. He just hadn’t been sure if it would be fireworks and passion, or a volcano.
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