by Sierra Riley
Gabriel shifted from one foot to the other, looking at him, then Julius.
Julius studied Gabriel closely, his eyes raking up and down his body before he looked at his face again.
Briar knew Julius was fine with what he saw, or he would have turned him down on the spot. He just didn’t want the guy to get cocky.
Too late for that.
Gabriel’s chin raised, his thumb hooked into his pocket.
A long-suffering expression passed over Julius’s face, but then he raised his shoulders in a sharp shrug. “Fine. Follow me.”
Gabriel didn’t look back at Briar, following Julius in quick, purposeful strides. He never lost the lazy, graceful strut to his step, though.
He would fit right in on the runway.
Briar pushed his lip around as he watched the two walk off, then picked up the phone to ask the new faces department for some suggestions before Markie arrived. He was always fifteen minutes late, anyway. Briar had time to plan his pitch.
5
Gabriel
Jesus, it was only his second day in the office and he was expected to be helpful? Even if Gabriel had had the experience he’d claimed, surely it would have taken longer just to settle in.
Briar had sent him off to model without a second thought. Maybe Jordan hadn’t been sucking up to him just to get his money.
He was a good model.
Gabriel had always known he had the right attitude, that he could learn to pose and move like the best of them, but the look? That was intangible, impossible to fairly assess when he knew his own face better than any stupid photographer.
This guy was a real asshole. Gabriel was starting to see why he’d driven the last model off.
“Move that way.”
The layered t-shirt under a long-sleeved cotton button-up shirt was comfortable, but the jeans Julius had quickly chosen for him with agreement from two other guys fussing over his hair and face… they were a little tighter than he was used to.
Gabriel didn’t mind showing off his package, but he wasn’t going to be able to move his hip the way Hayes was telling him to.
“Just move your foot backward.”
“I can’t.” Gabriel had another condition he hadn’t told anyone about: he didn’t have a name for it, but his joints were oddly flexible and sometimes loose. If he moved his foot any further back, with the tight pressure around his hipbone, it was going to pop his hip right out of place.
The flexibility was nice, but dislocating a hip fucking sucked.
Unless it was for a really great lay, and Hayes was nothing like that.
“I can’t photograph you if you won’t do what I tell you to.”
Hayes was a short, stocky guy—the kind of generic-looking ugly-ass dude they hired for “str8 boy” porn. He sweated under the intense light shining into Gabriel’s face from one side, and he had a twitchy hand around his camera body.
And he refused to touch Gabriel, like the gay would wipe off on him. Gabriel disliked him on principle.
Gabriel made a point of brushing against Hayes, moving into his hand when he moved his arm around or tried to pull him into another angle.
Every time, Hayes’ lip would curl or he’d pull back like he’d been jolted. Once, he wiped his hand off on his jeans.
For that alone, Gabriel was going to be a real asshole now.
“Fine, then turn that way.”
“Which way?”
“That way.”
Gabriel turned the wrong way, tilting his head at a damn good angle. It would look better than the angle Hayes had asked for.
Hayes saw what he’d done. Instead of swallowing his pride and taking the photo being offered to him on a silver platter, he snorted and stepped forward. No doubt he was going to shove Gabriel the other way.
Jesus. It hadn’t just been Jordan fond of pushing guys around, then. Gabriel pulled his arm away from Hayes’s grip before he could grab it, glaring at him, then turned away from him to let him get the shot he wanted. He turned his toes in, though.
“Foot out.”
He moved his foot a few inches over.
“Toes out. Briar, sort out your shitty models before I come in next.”
“Of course.” That was Briar’s smooth voice, but he didn’t sound the slightest bit miffed… or even apologetic.
Gabriel glanced over his shoulder, resisting the temptation to moon Hayes instead. He shifted his toes out, staring straight into the camera with hooded eyes as he braced his hands on the box in front of him. His shirt was riding up his back, exposing his smooth lower back.
Even without a day’s professional experience—in an agency, rather than a pro’s living room with his boyfriend watching from the couch like a jealous gargoyle—he was fucking better than this Hayes guy.
Gabriel was a lot better than they all wanted to admit. Too bad for them. He didn’t care what anyone else thought. He’d spent hours looking in the mirror, practicing his angles, learning his face and body and the way he could move them both to seduce the camera.
He’d just never thought the industry would agree with his assessment of himself as both extremely fuckable and photogenic. Jordan’s words still rang in his ears.
I was only humoring you.
Now that he’d had the goddamn CEO of Exposed tell him he should be on a runway? And watching him in front of the camera?
His ego had never swollen more, and he’d damn well earned it.
Hayes was done. He growled, “I can’t deal with this shit.”
Gabriel put on a concerned, clueless expression and cocked his head, turning to face everyone instead. His eyes slowly adjusted from the bright light to the shadows around the edge of the room.
“This cocky little shit won’t give me anything useful. I’m done today, Briar. If I got anything useful, I’ll send you what I’ve got.”
There was a quiet scoff as Julius, the guy Gabriel gathered was in charge of new faces, rubbed his face and pushed open the door to the studio to hold it for Hayes.
“Thank you for your assistance,” Briar told them both. “Julius, make some calls. I’m sure we can find someone to come in.”
Hayes scoffed at the news that he was being replaced. “And good luck to him.” He stormed out through the door, still clutching his camera like he was bringing it to the principal’s attention.
Gabriel kicked out a foot and sat on the box, spreading his hands out behind himself.
“Coming?” That was Julius, to Briar.
But Briar’s eyes were fixed on Gabriel. “No. I need a word with Gabe here. Can you give us a photographer…” He trailed off, glancing at his watch. “In thirty minutes?”
“Thirty?” Julius’s shoulders sank with relief. “Yeah, I can do thirty. I was expecting fifteen. I could maybe do—”
“I think we all need to cool off,” Briar told him firmly. “Thirty.”
Footsteps echoed from nearby as the two guys from earlier who’d helped Julius with Gabriel’s hair and makeup and wardrobe overheard and obeyed, leaving them in silence.
The door swung shut behind the last of them, and then Briar was walking slowly across the backdrop draped along the floor. His shiny shoes clicked against the paper.
Gabriel’s heart pounded. He stayed where he was, sprawled on the box.
“You’ll have plenty of time in the spotlight later, Gabe.” Briar gestured toward the changing room.
When Gabriel pushed himself up and over toward the doorway, he was keenly aware of Briar following. The CEO had his hands in his pockets, his eyes never leaving Gabriel.
The chemistry between them was about to burst into flames. When Gabriel stepped into the back room with its comfortable sofa, makeup chair, and wardrobe corner, he heard the door lock slide into place.
His body burned with desire as he turned to face Briar, hooking his thumb into the too-tight jeans the agency had put him into while Briar’s eyes raked up and down him.
“Right clothes, right look, wrong photog
rapher. It happens.” Briar’s voice was a warm, low rumble.
Gabriel lifted his chin. Some small piece of him was glad Briar wasn’t telling him off. Though he barely knew him, he knew plenty of him. Briar was a household name. He’d hate to blow off his opinion if Briar told him he wasn’t a good fit for the agency.
Instead, Briar pointed toward the chair right behind him.
“Sit.”
6
Briar
It was impossible enough to resist Gabriel when he came into work wearing clothes that draped around his body and highlighted his every curve and plane of muscle.
When his new eye candy was dressed in clothes designed to highlight the rounded curves of his ass, his t-shirt pulling across his pecs and riding up his back and stomach to expose a sliver of deliciously smooth skin?
Christ, Briar was half-hard from the moment he walked into the studio and caught a glimpse of the light streaming across his bare lower back.
And as much lip as Gabriel gave the photographer, he technically hadn’t been wrong. He’d resisted poses that he’d clearly known weren’t the right ones for him, favoring flattering angles.
And Hayes had been too handsy. He should have known better than to yank around their talent. Briar was going to get someone to yell at him later about that. No matter how much attitude a model showed, nothing justified that.
Julius needed to get a photographer who could win Gabriel’s trust so he wouldn’t be second-guessing him. But that was Julius’s problem, and this—the cocky little stud staring up into his eyes like he was daring him to fuck him…
This was Briar’s problem.
He licked his lips, and Gabriel unconsciously—or maybe consciously—mirrored him.
“You’re not made to follow orders.”
Gabriel didn’t crack a smile and agree or even roll his eyes sassily like Briar expected. Instead, his gaze flickered back and forth between Briar’s eyes for a few seconds, like there was something on his mind.
He didn’t say it, whatever it was. He just swallowed his response, then shook his head slightly. “Suppose not.”
That was interesting.
Fuck, why was this guy so much more interesting than any other model who’d walked into the agency since Austin?
The name popped into his head before he could help it, but Briar shoved it aside. Gabriel was much more interesting, and he was right here, giving Briar the fuck me eyes while he raised his hands to his shirt to unbutton it.
“I like that you’re not cowed by anyone.”
“Cowed?” That, at last, drew a slight smile from Gabriel. Then it was gone, replaced by those sultry, thick lips parting a little.
“Pushed around, I was gonna say, but Hayes was pushing you around.”
“I don’t mind a hot guy pushing me around,” Gabriel told him, his voice distinctly softer and more meaningful. He was speaking slowly, making damn sure Briar knew what he meant. “But he’s not my type.”
“What is?” Briar challenged, keeping his own voice soft.
Gabriel’s shirt was unbuttoned all the way now and he pushed it off his arms. Through the thin white t-shirt underneath, the black ink of tattoos wound its way up his chest toward his shoulder. Briar’s eyes were on Gabriel’s face, though.
“I think you have an idea.” Gabriel rose to his feet.
It was impossible to say which of them made the first move. It was simultaneous, as if the thin-stretched barrier between them had finally reached its breaking point and snapped. Recoil or not, they were flying toward each other, hands seeking chests and waists to haul each other close.
And then they kissed, teeth clicking with the ferocious desperation of their first hot, hard kiss. Their mouths met, tongues licking into each other’s mouths.
Gabriel’s hands were already scrabbling at his shirt to get a couple of buttons undone, pulling the shirt tails out of his jeans.
Briar shuddered as those slender, skilled fingers slipped under his shirt and ran up along his stomach and up his chest. He let himself indulge in a few moments of bliss before he sucked on Gabriel’s lower lip to take over again.
Gabriel’s groan was soft but distinctly audible, splitting the silence between them. His hands went still, pressed hard against Briar’s body still under his clothes.
Briar answered with a quiet growl of need, shoving his thigh between Gabriel’s until their bodies rode together and ground, denim-wrapped bulge against bulge.
That was one problem he could fix. He pulled open the buttons on Gabriel’s jeans and fly one at a time, popping them open with an extra grind of his hips between each.
“Hnnnh.” The needy noise was indescribably hot. Gabriel was practically begging him to fuck him, his hands slipping around under Briar’s shirt to clutch at Briar’s back. Gabriel dug his nails into soft skin.
Briar yanked at his waistband, peeling the jeans away from his stomach and down his thighs, and then that fucking hot bulge was poking at the smooth grey trunks designed to minimize leg lines.
But Briar had something else important calling him: his own cock. He was tight in his pants, his dick throbbing with the desperate desire to be inside this cocky, hot, fiery young thing until he moaned and begged at the top of his lungs for more.
And they still had at least twenty-five minutes.
That didn’t make him slow the frantic pace one bit. From the moment they’d shaken hands, he’d felt the burning desire between them, barely stifled in the presence of the office at large.
Here, screwing around in a back room with nobody’s eyes on him? They could fuck like animals, and Briar fully intended to.
Briar pushed his hand back through Gabriel’s spiky hair, combing it back and pulling his head back to expose his throat. Then, like a viper, he struck.
He pressed his lips against the soft flesh of Gabriel’s neck, then down his throat until he reached the hard lump of his Adam’s apple. The light stubble under Gabriel’s chin burned Briar’s lips, and he relished the sting.
Gabriel’s body was soft against him, his cock rock-hard as Briar yanked down his jeans and underwear all at once. He gripped his shaft in one firm hand to rub against Gabriel’s bulge, teasing him.
“Oh, Jesus,” Gabriel hissed under his breath, fumbling to pull his own underwear down.
Briar stepped forward, crushing their bodies together and pushing in quick, hard thrusts so their hard cocks slid against one another’s.
“Yes, yes, yes,” Gabriel panted, his voice breaking and throat vibrating with his whimpers. He was crushing Briar against him with surprising strength for his size as the sensitive, firm flesh of their cocks lined up just right.
Then, the words Briar was dying to hear:
“Fuck me.”
7
Gabriel
When Briar had told him to sit down, he’d expected to suck his cock and get off with a little verbal—and if he were really lucky, physical—spanking.
He hadn’t expected to tempt the hottest and most powerful man in the whole damn agency to fuck him.
But Briar had been looking at him with the same hunger Gabriel felt every time he saw those pretty blue eyes flicker his direction, and Gabriel was happy to soak up every ounce of his attention.
And it felt good. No… not just that. It felt incredible.
He was hot shit, and people wanted him. Not just people—Briar wanted him. Yeah, that Briar. The Briar he’d been watching on Instagram and Facebook and in magazines for five years now.
The moment the plea—invitation, plea, whatever—fell from his lips, Briar pushed up against him, steering him backward and around the chair to the couch against the wall.
Gabriel was already burning from head to toe imagining how fucking good the thick cock throbbing against his stomach would feel pushing inside him. Preferably fast and hard and now.
Briar didn’t disappoint. When they reached the couch, he shoved Gabriel down, but he still had one hand on the small of his back to guide him dow
n.
For a second, Gabriel was stunned at how sweet the move felt.
Then his lust was back as he wrested his jeans down over his knees and feet, kicking them aside and trying not to think about how much they probably cost. He followed suit by shrugging the t-shirt off, just to make sure he wasn’t going to get docked a paycheck.
Briar’s lips were on his throat again, trailing down toward his collarbone. Gabriel’s whole body flinched and shuddered, and he arched his back when those lips gently ran along his collarbone, sucking it from his shoulder all the way across to the hollow at the base of his throat.
Gabriel whimpered, heat surging through his body when Briar’s lips closed around his nipple and gently sucked one, then the other. A skilled flick of Briar’s wet, warm tongue against each pink nub was all it took to have Gabriel’s chest heaving for breath.
“You’re so easy to turn on,” Briar breathed out, his voice hoarse and so close. The deep rumble of his chest never failed to turn Gabriel on. It was damn hard to focus on anything when he heard Briar practically breathing his sex operator hotline voice into all his phone meetings.
Gabriel’s toes curled into the couch as he moaned his agreement. Thank God for going barefoot during the shoot. One less thing to worry about taking off.
His cock was throbbing again, demanding attention so much he almost ached. Briar might have been a tease, but he couldn’t handle much more teasing when he’d already been on edge for the gorgeous hunk for three days.
Briar hooked his thumbs in the waistband of the underwear that pulled tight around Gabriel’s thighs, hauling the soft garment down and off in a swift motion.
Gabriel pushed close, hooking his ankles together behind Briar’s back while Briar tore open the condom packet. Gabriel curled his fingers into the back of the couch behind him, whimpering again when Briar gave one or two strokes of both their cocks together in one hand.
Then, Briar rolled the condom onto his cock in one delicious swoop of his hand from top to base, his eyes flickering half-closed for a moment with pleasure. His hand now slick, he pumped it up and down his shaft a few times.