by Iris Blaire
“Says who?” asks Jessica. She’s lounging on the couch, Patrick’s head in her lap. Suddenly, she sits up straight, like she just thought of something. “Why don’t we just work on getting comfortable with each other in our time off? Like now?”
Britain throws her hands up. “I don’t want to be watching an orgy, okay?”
“Not an orgy, God,” Jessica continues. “Let’s like, make a game out of it. We’ll have all of us start out from a different end of the house and turn off all the lights. Then we’ll make our way to the other end of the house. If we bump into anyone …” she shrugs. “We have to make out with them.”
There are a few gasps and a couple hums of intrigue. Britain’s eyes narrow, as though she is thinking about it.
“There are two catches,” Jessica says. “The first is that, even if you run into someone of the same sex, you have to kiss them.”
The only models that look around uncomfortably are Chloe and Patrick.
“Second catch is that, Britain, you have to play.”
Britain goes white. I crack up, clapping my hands together. As Britain shakes her head back and forth quickly, I say, “Come on Britain, you heard the rules.”
“Yeah, Brit,” says Delilah.
“Yeah, Brit,” says Jaime coolly.
Her eyes flicker toward Jaime, and she gets paler. Come on, Brit. Don’t show him embarrassment.
“Let’s take a few shots to get this party started?” Adam suggests, and everyone’s down.
“Just so I’m clear,” Ella points to Adam and Delilah, “are you two on again or off? I don’t want to feel guilty…”
“If you’re lucky enough to get to me?” Adam grins.
“Not you, dumbass. Delilah.”
“Off again,” Delilah says with a wink.
My heart beats quickly in my chest. I haven’t kissed anybody off-camera since Dallas.
I need this.
^^^^^
I’ve chosen the corner of the hallway of the third floor as the starting point, and I have to make it all the way into the dining room in the dark.
Maybe this idea was too good, considering it will not only get us comfortable with each other, but also get us in the mood for Halloween. And I really don’t feel like being scared shitless right now.
The doorbell rings.
“Who the fuck’s that?” Ella yells.
“I’ll answer it,” says Britain from somewhere downstairs. After a few moments of waiting, Britain yells, “Crisis averted. We’re back in business.”
And then I get a text from Jessica. All it says is GO.
I start making my way through the hall, wondering if we thought this through. What if one of us trips down the stairs in the dark and breaks their neck?
I guess it’s too late for that.
Before I even make it out of the third floor hallway, I run into Ella. She must have started in a bedroom somewhere on this floor.
“Well, hello there,” she says, wrapping her arms around my neck.
I have to admit, Ella is pretty damn hot. Dark, smooth skin, and big eyes. I would be lying if I said that I wasn’t slightly aroused when she kissed me—maybe just from the taboo element of it all. When her tongue slips between my lips, I can’t help but giggle. She pulls away, her mouth trailing to my neck, and whispers, “Come on, Rylan. Show me what you got.”
And then she licks up my neck.
She actually licks my neck.
I’m too shocked to respond and too turned on to even breathe. Damn, this girl sure is taking this exercise seriously.
Finally, Ella pulls away and says, “Gotta run, ciao!” And makes her way down the hall.
And I’m left standing like an idiot, dumbfounded. What the fuck? Am I so much of a prude to have a kiss from a girl affect me like I’m a teenage boy who just figured out what a boner is?
I shake myself out of it, wipe my neck, and keep moving.
When I reach the stairs, they are empty. Thank God, because after knowing how my body responds to secret make-out sessions, I’d probably end up losing balance and falling to my death. I reach the second floor. Two people are at it in the corner (like, really at it), so I quietly sneak by and continue on my way. Reaching the next staircase, I slip down it, holding onto the banister for dear life. I’m all the way to the foyer—the dining room is just around the corner. I was able to dodge almost everyone.
When a wave of relief courses through me, I realize that I really need to loosen up before I’m stuck faking an orgy with a bunch of people I still get weirded out over kissing.
A strong hand wraps around my wrist.
The air leaves my lungs as I’m pushed up against the wall. I can barely see the silhouette of the man towering over me—at first I think its Adam, or Miguel. But then he grasps my hips and slides me upward, pushing himself between my legs, and suddenly this is all too familiar.
“What the hell?” I whisper.
“Miss me?” Dallas asks.
My mouth hangs open. There’s nothing I can say or do that will clarify this situation. Millions of questions race through my mind, but I can’t seem to spit any of them out. Why is he here? How did he know I was coming?
Am I dreaming?
Instead—instead—I stupidly wrap my legs around him and say, “I think you’re supposed to kiss me now.”
“I know.”
When his lips press against mine, they’re cold. He was the one who rang the doorbell. But that’s as far as my thought process goes, because his tongue is coaxing my bottom lip, and my chest breaks in half.
Oh God, I missed him.
He keeps me pinned to the wall with his body until I start to slip. He slides his hand from from my thighs to my ass, and pressure builds between my legs. I bite down on his lip, wanting more of him, wanting all of him at once, but he refuses me. He pulls back, pressing a chaste kiss on the corner of my mouth, again on my cheek, and behind my ear. Then he buries his face in the crook of my neck and inhales, and I shut my eyes and hold him tight.
Dallas just stands there and holds me as I cling to him with my arms and legs. The moment seems infinite as he breathes in all of me, and suddenly this isn’t just a kiss.
This is a whole lot more than just a kiss.
Britain
This is the story how a little photographer walked blindly through a house with a bunch of models and ended up kissing almost all of them.
First was Delilah. She said, “Making out with you would be kind of weird,” and I said, “Ditto,” so she chastely kissed me on the lips and went about her merry way.
Second was Ella. That girl made me question my sexuality, if I wasn’t already.
And then comes Miguel.
I run my fingers down the front of his thin t-shirt, memorizing the feel of his abs. I get to look at stomachs and asses and flesh all the time, but I never get to touch.
That’s all about to end.
He leans down and presses his lips against mine. They’re soft and warm and taste like peppermint. I open my mouth, and his tongue brushes softly against mine.
And then he pulls away.
He squeezes my wrist once, like the signal letting me know we’re done.
So anticlimactic.
I hurry up the stairs, cheating with my phone light. I want to make it to the opposite end of the house as quickly as possible because I really don’t care to swap spit with anyone else.
Up ahead, I see another glow of a cellphone and hear hushed whispers. Getting closer, I realize that it’s Adam and Jaime.
“Hey!” I hiss, and both of them turn toward me in the blue glow of the cellphone. “What the hell are you guys doing? You’re supposed to be kissing. I thought that’d be easy for the two of you.”
I stop in front of them as both the boys turn to look at each other. Adam raises his eyebrow, and when he looks at me again, he has a wicked glint in his eye.
“What?” I ask.
“The rules never specified what would happen if three p
eople ran into each other.”
When I get what he’s inferring, a jolt of wild energy races through my abdomen. He cocks his head sideways at the nearest bedroom door, as if suggesting it.
I can’t believe this is happening to me.
Jaime links his fingers with mine. He used to do that all of the time when I was a teenager because he knew it would get to me. Now it feels good, alluring, intimate, but instinctively I pull back my hand.
“Hold on,” I breathe. “Don’t try to distract from the situation. You guys still have to kiss.”
They shrug simultaneously. Adam leans in toward Jaime and their lips meet. Both of their eyes are closed when the kiss deepens. Jaime rests his hand on Adam’s hip and I hold my breath, feeling wetness pool between my legs. I realize now that I’ve been holding my phone up with the screen on in order to see everything they’re doing to each other.
I wouldn’t dream of Jaime ever being this comfortable with men in the past. He always came off as ignorant. But maybe I’m the one not giving him a flying chance.
Maybe I’m the ignorant one.
When they pull away, Adam’s teeth drag across Jaime’s bottom lip before they break apart.
“Satisfied?” Adam asks. He holds his phone up to my face. I’m sure I look like a kindergartner at a candy store right now, my eyes wide and glassy, my mouth hanging open.
I swallow. “Well… that was…”
I don’t even have time to protest. Not like I would want to, because this is so happening.
Oh my God, this is so happening.
Adam pushes the nearest door open with his back. I don’t know whose room this is, nor do I care. Jaime steps behind me and places his hands on my waist, guiding me into the room and pushing me gently onto the bed.
I flip over right as Adam crawls on top of me.
There’s just enough light in the room for me to make out Jaime’s expression as he sits back on the bed and watches me. He’s stoic as he studies me, like he’s waiting for me react to Adam. Probably waiting for me to push him off.
Hot, erotic energy ripples through me, and suddenly I want more than ever to play into his game—to show him that I’m not the same person just as much as he isn’t.
Adam starts at my neck. He nibbles and bites softly at my skin, licking gently at my earlobe. “Just let me know if you want to stop.”
“Shut up and kiss me,” I say loud enough for Jaime to hear. Adam’s teeth scrape against my earlobe and my eyes flutter shut. He removes my glasses and presses his lips to mine.
I moan into Adam’s mouth loudly. His lips leave mine and he pushes open my shirt, nibbling at the swell of my breast. The pressure is building so quickly between my legs that it’s almost painful. “What are you going to do to me?” I gasp.
“I’m thanking you for being such an amazing photographer,” Adam says, amusement in his voice.
“Shut the fuck up and keep thanking me,” I respond, and he chuckles. I try to find Jaime again, realizing that he’s much closer, crawling up to the other side of me, a wild lust dancing in his eyes.
Adam pushes his hand past the fabric of my bra, the pad of his thumb brushing against my hard nipple. I gasp, keeping my eyes trained on Jaime. He whispers my name in bewilderment, in awe maybe. When Adam captures my mouth with his again, Jaime pushes up the hem of my shirt and nips at the flesh above my hipbone, sucking lightly. I whimper into Adam’s mouth as Jaime’s tongue traces my hipbone.
This can’t be real.
Adam pulls away and looks down at Jaime. He whispers into my ear. “Jaime told me of your history. Is this weird for you?”
What I can’t tell him is that this was part of a fantasy I built up inside my teenage brain over and over. But in the fantasy, the next thing that Jaime would do is to start unbuttoning my pants.
But he doesn’t. Instead, Adam rolls away and Jaime crawls on top of me. His lips hover inches above mine, like he’s just waiting for me to push him off. Instead, I press both my palms against his firm chest, sliding them down his t-shirt until the fabric ends. I trace the skin right above the waist of his belt, and listen to his intake of breath.
Oh my God, Evan was so right. My element of surprise gives him no power at all.
“Oh, come on, Jaime,” I murmur. “Haven’t you been dying to know all these years what it feels like to kiss me?”
My own words set a fire right in my core.
He smirks.
The bastard has the audacity to smirk.
Leaning in slowly, he opens his mouth, tongue darting out to lick my lip. My body erupts in a shiver that I try to suppress, but I know he felt it, because he slows down his pace even further. When our lips fully meet, his tongue glides gently against mine. He tastes like cinnamon and wine, and he smells…
Oh, God, he smells exactly the same as I remember.
I know I’m melting into a puddle beneath him, so I capture his lower lip, sucking on it, scraping my teeth against him as he pulls away to stare at me.
I bite down on my lip to hide my breathing, but my heaving chest is giving me away.
At some point during mine and Jaime’s kiss, Adam rolled off the bed and slipped out the door. We’re alone.
“Did you get my apology?” he asks throatily.
“Which one?” I ask.
His expression shifts to confusion.
“Oh, I just assumed this kiss was a makeup for the one you botched all those years ago. You know, when you tried to embarrass me.”
His eyes light up. “That’s right. Because you hadn’t been kissed before.”
“Too bad,” I roll my hips into his, rocking right into his erection. He stiffens and I clamp my legs around him. I push myself up on my elbows and whisper into his ear, “You weren’t serious.”
I push him off of me and roll out of the bed, nearly falling on my face from being so weak in the knees. I strut out of the room as gracefully as possible, sliding my glasses on in the process.
“Britain, wait.”
I don’t look back. I open the door and slip out, hurrying to the floor below me. When I’m sure no one is around, I press myself against the wall and slide down it, hugging my knees and exhaling slowly.
“Holy shit,” I breathe.
That was the strangest, sexiest thing that’s ever happened to me. And no, I’m far from a virgin. I’ve had amazing, kinky sex before.
But none of that has even come close to what just happened with Adam and Jaime. Jaime. That kiss.
I clench my legs together and shut my eyes, mentally thrown back to a vivid teenage fantasy of mine.
I groan and stand, finding the nearest bathroom and splashing water on my face. When I’ve finally cooled down enough to function, I head downstairs to all of the commotion.
I know it’s because of Dallas.
He arrived right as we were starting the game, and I quickly fed him what we were up to. I wonder if Evan has seen him yet.
As I walk down the stairs, I run my fingers through my hair in attempt to get it to lay flat. Everyone’s crowded around Dallas in the foyer. Adam has his arm around him, completely invested in his arrival. But Jaime’s eyes are trained on me.
And he’s not the only one.
Evan’s staring at me with loathing. I try to silently communicate to her that I’m sorry (even though I’m not really), but she’s not having it. When I reach the foyer, she pulls me into the dining room.
“What the hell is your problem, not telling me that Dallas was flying into fucking Boston?”
I stand up tall. “I have a lot of problems, but not telling you about Dallas isn’t one of them.”
Her eyes widen as she studies me. “Were you just sexed up?”
“I... what? No… no I was not sexed up.”
“You’re lying! Oh my god, Brit. Who was the lucky guy? Girl? Was it Jaime? Oh my God, it was Jaime. That’s so juicy.”
I snap my fingers. “Focus. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Dallas, but we need him and I didn’
t want you arguing with me about why he shouldn’t shoot.”
“You know he flew all the way from Costa Rica for this, to shoot porn, right? He shouldn’t be here, Britain. He should be researching and doing what he’s going to school for.”
I grab her by the shoulder. “I love you to death, and I know you’re smart, but right now you’re acting like the dumbest person on the planet.”
She narrows her eyes and cocks her head.
“You really think he flew all the way from Costa Rica to shoot for EPE?”
She rolls her eyes. “Bullshit.”
“Tell me to my face that you guys didn’t kiss when you saw him.”
“Yeah, because it was part of the game.”
“What-the-fuck-ever.”
“And who cares if Dallas and I kissed? That’s century-old news. No one gives a shit anymore, Brit.” She pokes me in the arm. “I want to know,” she pokes me again, “Who sexed you up?”
I lean in close to her face and say, “I don’t kiss and tell,” and then spin on my heel and walk out of the room.
“You suck!” she cries after me.
Luckily for me, Evan is taking this whole Dallas thing a lot lighter than I thought she was going to. Of course, I haven’t told her the biggest factor yet.
I got the message from A.J. this morning.
Rylan’s photos with Miguel bored me to tears.
You put her with Whitley and you make it work.
Chapter Seven
Evan
Britain and I have been in a texting war all night. Slightly drunk from the booze and high from my kiss with Dallas, I’m in a fiery mood. There’s no doubt in my mind that Britain can tell.
Me: I don’t give two flying fucks what that asshat says—I am NOT shooting with Dallas. You hear me? NO. I don’t think I can spell it out clearlier.
Britain: Clearlier? Really? I don’t think I should have let you go home by yourself.
Me: I took a cab CHILL.
Me: Just put me with another guy tomorrow. I can prove myself, I promise.
Britain: I can probably pull off giving you one more chance, but that’s it. He’s on my back.