Dirty Shots

by Marissa Farrar

  Eric reached down and grabbed both of her wrists, pinning them above her head while he thrust inside her. His beautiful body eclipsed her view of the ceiling, and he stared down at her, locking her into his eye contact. She felt so utterly loved and accepted. Where her father’s love only counted if she acted in such a way that it met with his approval, Eric would allow her to do and be whatever she wanted to be, and would still want her afterward.

  A couple more strokes and Eric came inside her while she clutched him. Her body was too ravaged to allow her to have another orgasm, but she loved how he filled her. She wrapped her legs around the back of his thighs, her arms around his back. She kissed his shoulder and held him tight, allowing his breathing to grow slower in her arms.

  They pulled apart and both became aware of Logan still watching them, and laughed, suddenly shy.

  Logan threw them a grin and a wink. “I’ll go get cleaned up and get out of your hair.”

  “You don’t need to run off,” said Eric.

  “Nah, I know, but I figured you guys could use some privacy.”

  He disappeared into the bathroom, picking up his clothes as he went.

  Eric helped Anya to the couch and passed her the robe she’d discarded at the start of the session. “How are you feeling?”

  “A bit sore, but good. Happy. Content.”

  He smiled, and touched her hair. “Yeah, me, too.”

  Logan reappeared fully dressed. “I’ll leave you guys in peace. Anya, I hope you enjoyed that as much as I did.” She blushed in response. “Eric, I hope you got everything you wanted.”

  “Sure did,” he replied.

  “Awesome. Well, I’ll see you both in a couple of days at the opening.”

  Anya tried to ignore the nervous flip in her stomach at the mention of the exhibition.

  “Definitely,” said Eric, and made a move to stand up, but Logan waved him down.

  “Stay there. You both look comfortable. I can see myself out.”

  Logan left, and they settled back on the couch.

  Eric kissed the top of her head. “You know, that was one of the most incredible, sexiest things I’ve ever been part of.”

  She snuggled into his arms. “Yeah, me, too. Thank you, Eric.”

  He blinked in surprise. “What for? It should be me thanking you.”

  “Thank you for opening my eyes to how fucking amazing, and beautiful, and intense life can be. I think I was just plodding through life before, doing what my family expected of me. This is the first time I’ve ever done something where I no longer cared about what my father would think.”

  Except that wasn’t totally true, was it? Despite everything she told herself, deep down a part of her still worried about what her father would say when he found out just how deep she’d gotten involved with Eric Rutherford.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Anya

  She woke to the ringing of a phone.

  Anya blinked open her eyes and reached across the bed to nudge Eric, only to discover his side of the bed empty. They’d spent the evening with her nursing a glass of wine on the couch, while he’d made some edits to the photographs. He’d called her over every now and then to show her a particularly beautiful shot, explaining exactly how the light and lines in the photograph worked so well. She’d appreciated how he’d taken the time to teach her. With Eric as her personal tutor, her own skills were sure to grow exponentially over the next few years. The idea of being behind the camera herself excited her even more than the modeling did.

  Exhausted, they’d both agreed on an early night and had fallen asleep in each other’s arms without there being even a hint of sex. Perhaps she should have been concerned they’d not made love again, but instead she simply felt comfortable with him, as though they’d reached that stage in their relationship where they could fall asleep together without sex preceding it.

  Only now he wasn’t there.

  “Eric?” she called out.

  He appeared from the direction of his office area, his dark hair mussed, his eyes slightly wild. He must have been working. “What’s going on?”

  “Phone?” she said, but then realized something. “Oh, shit. It’s my cell. Sorry.”

  Her purse was somewhere beside the bed, so she reached down and swiped around for it. The ringing stopped as her voicemail cut in, but then almost immediately started to ring again.

  She frowned, and dragged herself to sitting. Her body ached from the previous day’s antics with Eric and Logan, but she couldn’t think about that right now. Someone really wanted to get hold of her.

  Pushing her hair out of her eyes with one hand, her hand found her purse and she dragged it back up onto the bed with her. She scrabbled around inside, wishing she didn’t carry quite so much crap around with her all the time. Finally, her fingers wrapped around the smooth metal and she picked the phone out of her bag.

  It was still ringing.

  Anya glanced at the screen. Nadine. Why was her ex-roommate so desperate to get hold of her?

  She hit the button to answer. “Hey, what’s up?”

  Nadine didn’t even bother to say hi. “Have you seen the New York Journal today?”

  “What? No. I haven’t even woken up properly, never mind read the newspaper.”

  Eric was staring at her, his dark eyebrows drawn down in a frown. He shook his head at her slightly, silently asking what was going on, but she lifted her hand to tell him she didn’t know yet.

  “You might want to get yourself a copy,” Nadine said. “Actually, then again, you might not.”

  “Why? What’s happened?”

  She heard the sigh come down the line.

  “Some reporter has run a story on that photographer guy of yours, saying he’s turned to photographing porn, and they’ve used a photograph of you in the piece.”

  “Jonathan Turner! That bastard!”

  “What’s going on?” Eric hissed.

  She shook her head at him.

  “You know him?” asked Nadine.

  “Yeah, I’ve had the unfortunate pleasure of meeting him, which is when he took the photograph.” She couldn’t imagine what her father would be making of this newest turn. He’d be humiliated. Her gut twisted. She’d never meant to do that to him. “I’ve got to go, Nadine. Thanks for letting me know.”

  “Umm, I’m really sorry, Anya, but that’s not all.”

  Her stomach plummeted. How could it be any worse? “Go on ...” Her voice was a whisper.

  “Someone at the college must have come across the story. They’ve photocopied the article and plastered it all over campus.”

  “What?” Her world fell away, her mind spinning. She’d be the talk of campus.

  “I’m so sorry, Anya.”

  “No, it’s fine,” she said, though her voice sounded distant, and she felt detached. Eric was staring at her, wide-eyed, and clearly desperate to know what was happening. There was only one person she knew vindictive enough to pull a stunt like that.

  Gavin Hollis.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Eric

  Anya repeated what her friend had told her over the phone, her eyes wide and filled with tears.

  “God damn it!”

  Eric paced the floor. To see such sadness in her eyes put murder on his mind. Adrenaline fizzed through his veins, making his brain race and filling him with tension. He’d not been able to sleep the previous night, leaving Anya sound asleep in bed so he could work. The itchy anxiety he’d been experiencing about his work recently boiled over to a new level. He was filled with the sudden urge to allow the tension to explode out of him, to find this Gavin Hollis again and beat him so badly he wouldn’t get up from it this time.

  “Eric, please,” said Anya, getting to her feet as well. “You need to calm down.”

  The sadness he’d seen in her eyes had turned to alarm, and though he knew he was the cause of it this time, he didn’t seem to be able to rein himself in.

  “I want to kill thos
e sons of bitches, especially that Gavin guy. Jonathan Turner is an asshole, but he’s still doing his job. Gavin has done this purely to be vindictive.”

  “I know, but there’s nothing you can do. You can’t go and attack him again, Eric. You just can’t. Gavin is a college student, and you could get in serious trouble if you hit him again. I bet Jonathan Turner would just love for you to go raging at him with all guns blazing. It would only give him more ammunition to throw at us.”

  He knew she was right, but a part of him didn’t even want to calm down. He wanted to use the energy firing inside him to make Gavin Hollis pay for hurting her. He wanted to throw and break things, but only the look in Anya’s eyes stopped him from doing so.

  Though he still couldn’t bring himself to sit down, he at least stood still and forced himself to take a breath.

  He needed to think. If they couldn’t win this with brawn, he needed to use his brain.

  Anya stared at him, her face taut with emotional pain. “What are we going to do?”

  “We need to own this, Anya. We need to be proud. If we try to act as though we’re ashamed or trying to hide anything, they’ll have won.”

  She shook her head at him. “How do we do that?”

  “By making the exhibition a huge fucking success. By making you a huge fucking success.”

  “I’m not sure I understand...”

  Without realizing it, he started to pace again, his fist clenched in his hair. “I know I’ve always said that I didn’t plan on selling your photographs, but what if someone offered a disgusting amount of money?”

  “I ... I don’t know ...”

  He continued. “And what if I made sure every cent was paid directly to you.”

  Her eyes widened. “Eric! I couldn’t have you do that!”

  “Why not? It’s your body. Wouldn’t it shut all those assholes up if they had to report that one of your photographs sold for thousands.”

  She shook her head. “Eric, no one is going to pay thousands for my picture.”

  His brain whirred, excitement pulsing through him. He was warming to his ideas, and could feel them taking hold. “Really? People are coming into this thinking that none of these photographs will be sold. What if we sell just one to the highest bidder? Erotic art is extremely fashionable at the moment. The collectors will be climbing over each other and throwing their money at us to get that one, solitary piece.”

  “I couldn’t take that kind of money from you, Eric.”

  “Why not? You earned it.”

  “So did you.”

  He nodded, almost frantic, desperately wanting her to understand what an amazing idea this was. “Okay, so we split it—fifty-fifty. If I get my way, everything that’s mine will be yours, too, at some point in the future anyway, so it’s no big deal for me to share the profits with you.”

  Her cheeks flushed pink at the implication of what he’d just said. He didn’t care if he was coming on strong. He wanted her to be in his future for the rest of his life. He couldn’t ever imagine wanting to let her go.

  “But what if people hate the photographs? What if it doesn’t work?”

  He shrugged. “Then both our names will most likely be dragged through the mud, but in time, people will forget, and we’ll still have each other and the memory of what we created together.”

  For the first time, a small smile tugged at the corners of her lips. “Yes, we will.”

  “So it’s agreed, then? Let Gavin Hollis and Jonathan Turner think and do whatever they want. We just have to prove them wrong.”

  She exhaled a breath and appeared to relax a fraction. “Okay, deal.”

  He leaned in and kissed her, and then turned and walked away.

  “Where are you going, Eric?” she called after him, confusion in her tone.

  “I have work to do,” he called back over his shoulder. “Time is running out and I need everything to be perfect.”

  Even though he wasn’t dressed yet, and hadn’t had so much as a sip of coffee, he headed over to his desk. Before, when he’d been working, he only ever thought about himself as a photographer, and what people would make of his work. Now he worried he would do something wrong, and it would be Anya who would suffer. He couldn’t stand the idea that people would hate the photographs and she would be the one to bear the brunt of it. What if she took it personally, and started to hate herself or how she looked, purely because he hadn’t photographed her beautiful body perfectly? She didn’t deserve that.

  He’d thought she would be the one to ruin him, but what it if flipped the other way around? Eric knew he would never be able to forgive himself.

  He had to get this right.

  The photographs had to be perfect.

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Anya

  Eric had been at his desk for hours now, barely hearing her when she’d tried to speak to him, focusing only on his work. He was surrounded in photograph prints and other sheets of paper, some screwed into balls and scattered across the floor. She’d made him coffee first thing and placed the cup on his desk, but it had sat untouched, until she’d replaced it with another hot drink, which had also gone unnoticed. He’d not eaten any breakfast, and she was starting to worry.

  Biting down on her nerves, she approached his desk.

  “How are you doing, Eric?”

  He didn’t even look at her as he spoke. “The images need to be perfect. I only have a couple of days. If we’re going to prove to everyone—Jonathon Turner, fucking Gavin, and even your father—how wrong they are, I need to make sure I get everything right. I don’t want to give them any reason to tear you down, Anya. I won’t let it happen.”

  Cautiously, she touched his bare shoulder. He’d managed to put on a pair of low slung workout pants, but that was all he wore. “I know that. I believe in you.”

  “I know you do, but at the end of the day, it won’t be your opinion that matters.”

  She tried not to feel stung at his words, biting her lower lip. “It’s past lunchtime,” she said, not wanting to start a fight. “Can I make you something to eat?”

  He didn’t answer her, so she went to the kitchen and made him a sandwich anyway. His behavior was starting to worry her. She’d never seen him like this.

  She suddenly realized what day it was.

  Eric had missed his gym session that morning.

  She knew he had a lot to think about, but he’d always said how important his workouts were. Was it just that he was busy, or did she have more to worry about?

  Anya finished fixing him a sandwich—pastrami on rye—and took it over to him on a plate.

  “Hey, I made you something to eat. I don’t think the photographic world is going to fall apart if you take ten minutes for lunch.”

  He nodded to a tiny space on his desk, between all the stacks of paper. “Just leave it there. I’ll get to it in a minute.”

  She hesitated. “Please Eric. It’s just ten minutes to eat. You need your strength.”

  He snapped at her. “Can’t you see I’m busy?”

  She took a step back. “Yeah, sorry,” she muttered.

  Anya stood, staring at the back of his head and chewing her lower lip. She understood that he needed to work, but he also needed to take a break. He needed a distraction, something to release the tension he’d been holding inside since she’d told him about the newspaper article that morning. She wished she hadn’t told him now.

  There was one thing Eric had never been able to resist, and that was her. Even when she’d tried to distract him from his gym session a few days ago, he’d still fucked her before he’d left.

  Taking a breath, she rounded the front of his desk. She wore a loose dress which was buttoned down the front. Standing in front of him, she slowly undid each of the buttons.

  Eric’s gaze flicked up to her. “What are you doing, Anya?”

  She gave a coy shrug. “Nothing. I just suddenly got really, really hot.”

  As she said the word ‘hot’
she slipped the dress from her shoulders and allowed it to fall to the floor, so she stood in only her pink lace bra and matching panties.

  His eyes went back to his work, and then darted back to her. Sensing she’d finally captured his attention, she reached behind her back and undid the clip of her bra. She shrugged the bra from her shoulders and allowed it to join the dress on the floor.

  Tilting her head to one side and smiling at him shyly, she ran her hands over her breasts, cupping them as she massaged herself, pushing her tits together. She pinched her nipples between her fingers, teasing them into hardened points.

  “Anya ...” Eric growled a warning.

  She swiped her tongue over her lower lip, wetting the plump flesh, and then bit it gently. She was winning! She finally had his attention.

  “I told you I was hot.”

  One hand left her breast and she slid it down her stomach and beneath the waistband of her panties. Despite the situation, she found she was already swollen and wet, and her finger brushed across the engorged nub of her clit, moving between her pussy lips and into her slippery heat. She took a shuddery breath, her lips parting. Her eyes locked on Eric, wanting to gauge his reaction. All she wanted was for him to throw aside his work and push her over the desk, and fuck her hard. He had suddenly grown distant from her, and she wanted to drag him back again.

  Her movement against her clit grew faster, and she felt her legs weaken, the muscles in her stomach tightening. Her breath came harder and faster, her cheeks heating and a flush spreading across her chest.

  Eric was watching her, his dark eyes almost angry with lust. She could see his breathing had also deepened and was sure his cock would be erect under his desk. She wanted him so badly.

  “Eric,” she gasped. “I need you. I want to feel you inside me.”

  To her horror, he jumped to his feet, but didn’t round the desk. Instead, he placed both hands on the surface and glared at her.

  “This isn’t a fucking joke, Anya!”

  Tears filled her eyes, and she withdrew her hand from her underwear, trying to ignore the scent of her own arousal on the air. Her impending orgasm drifted away like a lost boat at sea.