Pose
Page 1
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Published by The Hartwood Publishing Group, LLC,
Hartwood Publishing, 400 Gilead Road, #1617, Huntersville, NC 28070
www.hartwoodpublishing.com
Pose
Copyright © 2015 by Paige Michaels and Becca Jameson
Release: March 2015
Cover Artist: Georgia Woods
All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination, or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales, or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Pose by Paige Michaels and Becca Jameson
Ten years of being Julian Turner’s submissive and Morgan isn’t sure she’s any closer to understanding the man she fell for after graduation. They have built a picturesque life for themselves, Julian as an advertising executive and Morgan as the executive director for a non-profit arts education center called the Loft. Morgan is deeply proud of the woman she’s become. But even in their play, in the games of dominance and submission they explore, Morgan knows Julian is holding himself back.
Julian doesn’t want his beautiful submissive to be tainted by the darkness that lurks just beneath the surface. He’s spent years building himself into the Dom he’s certain Morgan wants, hiding his deepest desires in order to maintain their relationship. But when Morgan pushes him too far, asking for something he’s afraid to give, Julian’s carefully stacked house of cards begins to topple.
Torn between the safety of what they know and the desire to go deeper than they ever have, Julian and Morgan must reveal their long-held secrets and re-examine what it means to trust another person, body and soul.
Chapter One
Morgan could feel Julian’s protective gaze on her as she crossed the dimly lit room to the bar. Tiny Christmas lights twinkled along the edge of the room, showcasing the artwork that had been created in the space over the past few years. Morgan glanced at Julian as she reached the bar, and he winged one dark, questioning brow at her. His way of asking if she needed him. She shook her head and turned to signal the bartender, still feeling the heat of Julian’s gaze along the open back of her cocktail dress. There could be a thousand people in the room with her, and she’d sense him. Ten years of training and she knew no matter what he was doing and who he was talking to, he was aware of her.
“It turned out beautifully, Morgan,” Barbara said, slipping into the spot next to her at the bar. The bartender placed a glass of white wine in front of Morgan without asking her order. Julian had already told him what she’d be drinking tonight. Of course.
“It did. Thank you for coming,” Morgan answered, turning to the older woman beside her.
Barbara smiled, her short white hair and thin face not hiding her youthful exuberance. The woman was rich and well-connected and one of the biggest arts supporters in Minneapolis. She also embraced life in a way few people in Morgan’s acquaintance ever had.
“You’re welcome. The Loft is a wonderful cause. I’m glad Julian introduced me to it.”
Morgan looked over at Julian, who was talking to one of the Loft pottery instructors. Lucinda, a younger woman with wide eyes and a huge chest, leaned into Julian’s space and clung to his every word. He caught Morgan’s gaze again, and a rare grin twitched at his full lips. He looked gorgeous tonight, black suit with a starchy white button-down peeking out beneath, contrasting with his dark skin. Broad muscled back and chest filling the suit to perfection, just as Julian filled every room with his presence.
Lucinda leaned forward again, her red hair brushing against Julian’s chest as she whispered something in his ear. Morgan looked down, the familiar flush creeping up her neck. She couldn’t be jealous. Shouldn’t be. That’s not what they were about. If ten years of being Julian’s submissive had taught her nothing else, it was that she had little say in what he did outside their bedroom.
Morgan turned back to Barbara. “I’m glad you were able to make it tonight. This benefit means so much to me. So much to all of us. We have a waiting list of kids whose arts programs have been cut by school boards and who are so hungry for what we offer.”
The Loft was Morgan’s pet project. Something she’d come up with after three years of being Julian’s full-time sub, when her days around the house without him had grown tiresome and too long. Julian encouraged her, knowing her photography had always been important to her. Knowing she cared deeply about young people having access to arts education.
And Julian had purchased the building for her. A large loft space with studios on two floors for photography, art, pottery, and dance. He’d funded most of the classes the first year, paying the staff’s salary from his own checkbook. Until he introduced Morgan to rich patrons who wanted to help.
Now when Morgan wasn’t at the Loft teaching photography, she was lunching with benefactors or applying for grants. Julian still provided almost thirty percent of the Loft’s operating funds, but the program had grown under Morgan’s care, and she was proud of what she’d accomplished.
“Is my girl talking you into another donation, Barbara?” His deep voice broke through Morgan’s thoughts, and his hand on her back forced her back to the present.
“She doesn’t need to, Julian. I’m incredibly impressed with what she’s done here over the past few years. My family’s foundation is happy to support the Loft,” Barbara said.
Morgan smiled wide. “Everyone here is so grateful. Thank you, Barbara.”
Morgan looked around at the young people she’d hired to pass around hors d’oeuvres, many of them students and alumni who’d taken classes at the Loft. Andrew, one of the drawing instructors, waved at Morgan as he took one of the mini quiches from a tray. She nodded and smiled.
Julian’s hand pressed against the bare skin of Morgan’s lower spine as he maneuvered her back to the conversation with Barbara. “I’m very proud of her. Now if you’ll excuse us, I need to steal her from you for a minute.”
Barbara waved them away. “By all means. I’ll just get a drink.”
Julian smiled and steered Morgan into a dark corner in the main gallery of the Loft. She shivered as his thumb traced up and down her back, so possessive and sure. She glanced at him from the side, his dark face composed and fierce, so much like the first time she’d met him. She wanted to reach out and touch his hard jaw, smooth her hand down his cheek, but she wasn’t supposed to touch him without permission. He guided her in front of him, her back pressed against the wall. A large screen hid them from view of most of the people in the room, and the dim lighting provided coverage from those who could see around the screen. She kept her eyes down and waited for Julian to confirm they were unnoticed. His strong fingers tilted her chin up, and she inhaled deeply. She’d never get over the beauty of his dark face or the intensity of his almost black eyes.
“I’m proud of you, little girl. It’s going very well.”
“Thank you, Sir.”
His thumb drew across her bottom lip, and she instinctually opened. He dipped his first two fingers into her mouth, and she sucked hard. “Ah. My greedy girl.”
“You look beautiful tonight, princess. The dress fits perfectly.”
She nodded, still sucking on his fingers, knowing he wasn’t looking for a response from her.
“The men here can’t take their eyes off of you. The women either, for that matter.”
Julian slid his fingers out of her mouth and stepped closer to her. Her nipples beaded, and his scent wrapped around her. She knew what was coming. This was his game, he played it often, and he was very, very good at it.
“I’ve chosen one for you, baby.” He stared at her and nodded, giving her permission to ask a question.
“Man or woman?”
“Man. Very young. He’s quite taken with you. You had him in your class a few years ago, and I think he’s been harboring a little bit of a crush.”
Morgan’s eyes widened, and she couldn’t help looking past Julian around the screen, gaze darting to all the wait staff. “No,” she whispered.
Julian gripped her chin. “Ah ah ah, my game, my rules, baby girl. Unless you’re using your safe word, the answer is always ‘yes, Sir.’ Now go over and convince our Luke to come home with you.”
Chapter Two
“Sir, I don’t think…”
Julian let out a sigh. It’d been too long for them to still be going through this. “Baby girl, what’s my primary job? Before anything else?”
Morgan gazed at him, her bright blue eyes like cold fire. “To take care of me.”
He nodded. “That’s right. And do you trust me to do that?”
She licked her lips, and the craving that had been sitting deep in his stomach since the moment she started sucking on his fingers scraped across his nerves. “Yes, Sir.”
He studied her—long, white-blonde hair pinned up, pale skin glowing, cherry red lips turned down. He smoothed his thumb over her bottom lip again, and she opened as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Something inside him stirred, and he had to swallow the need to shove her to her knees and press his cock into her mouth in front of all the people in the room. Seeing her nervous, excited, it did something to him.
“Do I always see to your needs, princess?”
“Yes, Sir.”
He’d seen her with others enough to know she liked other men. Other women too. She liked to be worshipped, his baby girl. And he didn’t know how to answer that call in her any other way than by orchestrating a scene with others. It was the safest way to give her what she craved. He liked it too, if he were being honest. Liked knowing that no matter who she was with, she wouldn’t do anything without his permission. He also liked the envy of her bedmates. The satisfaction of seeing their want and knowing they’d leave with nothing of her. That she belonged only to him.
She shifted on her feet, and he slid his hand down to her hip, digging his fingers in until she stilled her movement. He dropped his hand lower and let his fingers dance along the hem of her dress. He itched to pull it up, see more of her pale, pale skin. Watch his dark hands grip her until he marked that beautiful whiteness with black and blue. He released her dress and stepped back.
“I’m glad you trust me, baby. It means so much, that trust. Now go bring us Luke.”
She bit her lip, and for a moment he thought she might safe out, but then she drew her shoulders back, head held high, and moved across the room. His cock pressed against the snug confines of his dress pants, urging him to take her first. To slake his need. But he couldn’t. Wouldn’t. He was too hungry, and he’d frighten her. Especially after speaking with Luke earlier, witnessing the open admiration Luke had for his Morgan.
He stepped out of the corner, eyes still tracking Morgan as she approached Luke, who held a full tray of glasses. Luke was tall and lean. Probably the same height as Julian, but he seemed to blend into the room. His lack of confidence was another turn-on. That sort of person was aching to be controlled by Julian.
Julian stared at the contours of Morgan’s body, the way her dress hugged her perfect ass, the way she walked as if she had a very dirty secret. He’d watched that walk develop over the years, from naïve girl to sophisticated woman. Her gentle hand touched Luke’s shoulder, and she made a small gesture toward the studio where the staff was entering and exiting with more trays. Julian’s cock grew even harder seeing the widening of Luke’s eyes and the way he inhaled deeply. If Julian knew his Morgan, she’d have the boy convinced within ten minutes.
Julian grabbed a champagne flute from one of the passing trays and surveyed the main gallery of the Loft. It had been a gamble, investing in the building, giving his Morgan a passion project to keep her occupied. He’d worried he’d lose her to it. To her photography and to all the energy required to run a nonprofit arts education center. But he kept a tight rein on the finances, and Morgan needed him. She’d come home many nights exhausted, full of concerns about the Loft succeeding, and he’d run her a bath and then fuck her until she collapsed, curling into his arms, whispering her gratitude for her Sir. His gamble had paid off, and Morgan had grown as a result of her efforts at the Loft.
“She’s been working very hard for this benefit,” a voice said beside him. Lucinda, the lovely redhead who taught pottery. “Lots of extra hours.”
“Yes,” Julian answered. “The center takes a lot of time. It’s good Morgan is so passionate about it.”
Lucinda leaned forward. “She’s lovely. Your Morgan. You two are lovely together…I imagine.”
“Thank you.”
Lucinda twirled a piece of hair around her finger and pulled her shoulders back farther. She dropped her hands behind her back and widened her stance, but then tilted her head to meet his gaze. “I think Morgan and I would suit each other…and you.”
“Ah.” Julian took a sip of champagne. So Lucinda knew about them, was aware of their involvement in the lifestyle. Surprising. Morgan was usually more guarded about it with outsiders. As far as he could tell, few people at the Loft were privy to the dynamics of their relationship. “Do you have a proposition, Lucinda?”
Lucinda leaned toward him and pressed her too-large breasts against his arm. “Only if you’re both interested.”
Julian stepped back and drank the rest of the champagne in his glass. “Another time, perhaps. We’re otherwise engaged tonight.”
Then before she could ask, before he could think too hard about the way she had so easily dropped into a submissive stance, he crossed the room and made his way to the entrance where two young teenagers were working a makeshift coat check. He handed them his number and a ten-dollar bill. Moments later, he stood at the door with Morgan’s coat, waiting for her and Luke.
Morgan slid next to him, circling her arm through his free one. She was slightly out of breath, and her nipples were peaked and prominent through her dress. Excitement or nerves, he couldn’t really tell. He should be able to. They’d been together ten years. But his Morgan could be a mystery. Even pushing as much as he did, he had moments of uncertainty with her. Moments he shouldn’t still have.
Julian shook the thought from his brain. She didn’t need his worries. Not if he was to be responsible for her. Those were his alone to hold on to. She needed his confidence, his strength, his absolute assurance that he would do everything in his power to take care of her.
“All set then, love?” he asked, eyeing a very nervous Luke shifting from foot to foot as he stood behind Morgan.
“Yes, Sir,” she murmured.
Julian held out her coat for her, slipping her arms into it before turning her and buttoning up each of the buttons. She kept her gaze down, but the pulse at her throat was visible, as fast and fluttery as a hummingbird’s wings. Her long blonde hair was held up in an intricate knot, and he couldn’t stop himself from pulling a strand free and letting it fall along the creamy skin of her neck.
“Luke,” Julian said, holding his hand out for the boy to shake.
Luke gripped it firmly, but it was still a boy’s handshake. Luke didn’t look more than twenty. “Do you understand what’s being offered you?”
Luke blushed and looked at his feet. Julian almost gripped his chin in the way he would Morgan’s when she avoided his gaze, but Luke wasn’t his boy. Instead, Julian waited.
Finally, Luke looked up and answered, “Yes, sir. Morgan said we could…that she…well, that we’d make love and you’d watch.”
Julian laughed and raised an eyebrow at Morgan. “Make love? Oh baby girl, really? Is that what you told him?”
Morgan kept her gaze down. “It seemed the easiest explanation.”
Julian tutted and circled his hand around her neck, his thumb resting on her speeding pulse point. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, love. It ruins the game.”
Then before she could say anything, Julian dropped his hand and tugged her toward the door, glancing back at Luke. “Are you coming? If you want her, this will be your only chance.”
Luke stood wrestling with the decision. Julian could see it in his eyes. Poor boy probably had no idea what he was in for. It wouldn’t surprise Julian if Luke decided to pass, no matter how lovely his Morgan was. Most twenty-year-old boys were not experienced in someone directing them in a scene. Luke certainly appeared flustered enough not to have the first clue about sharing.
“I’m coming,” he finally said, shrugging on his coat and following Julian and Morgan through the door.
“Excellent,” Julian said, feeling Morgan’s hand tremble beneath his. “I’m sure this will prove to be all kinds of fun.”
Chapter Three
Morgan could barely hear the street noises around them, her heart was pounding so loudly in her ears. Luke. Her former student. The boy who’d had a crush on her years ago and had shyly handed her a letter on the last day of class. A letter declaring his love for her, giving her his cell phone number, and asking if she would consider him.