by Amanda Aksel
“That’s right. And you said you weren’t a model.”
“I’m not a model,” she says through gritted teeth. “I’m a designer.”
“I don’t know how they do things in America, but I’ve never seen a designer get naked before a photo shoot.” Not that I’m complaining.
“Nina Savoy wanted me to model my own designs for this shoot.”
I let out a laugh. How did I not put this together? “Oh, my God. You’re Kate Golden?” I smack my palm against my forehead.
“Why are you laughing?” By the look on her face, she’s not at all amused.
“Come on. It’s pretty fucking hilarious, isn’t it? First, you leave me with my knickers off and then I catch you with your knickers off.”
Kate rolls her eyes and stomps her now bare foot. “No, I am not doing this shoot with you!”
I slow my laugh, catching my breath. “Sorry, love. You’re stuck with me. And if you want some decent shots for this spread, you’d better hurry up and get dressed. We don’t have much time.”
“But—”
“Nice to see you again, by the way. All of you,” I say, backing out of the small dressing room and shutting the door behind me. Oh man, the look on her face was classic. It almost made my blue balls worth it. I chuckle, opening the other on the right. Definitely the bathroom.
When I return to the set, Kate still hasn’t stepped out and I half wonder if she’s run away again. I unload my camera and lenses onto a small table near the cloudlike bed. A man, wearing too much aftershave, steps over in his snakeskin loafers. I glance up, recognizing the guy as Kate’s friend from the Lux party. He looks almost as surprised to see me as Kate.
“You’re the photographer?” he asks with a slack jaw.
“Indeed.” I return my focus to the camera.
The guy crosses his arms, cocking his head to the side. “Does Kate know you’re here?”
“Oh, yeah,” I raise my brow, chuckling. “She knows.”
He turns away, muttering, “This should be interesting,” before walking off. I take a few test shots of the set, peeking at my watch. How long does it take to put on lingerie? Maybe she’s one of those corset designers or something? Those are kinda sexy. Not that I’m picky about lacy underpants.
The chatter of the room goes quiet. Kate tiptoes in wearing a short, black satin robe, tall stilettoes, and thigh-high stockings with the lace top. My eyes bulge from their sockets and my pulse goes full throttle.
Bloody hell. Anything but stockings.
I turn away, taking a deep breath. It’s going to take every bit of focus and restraint I have to get through the shoot with her in stockings.
“Where should I go?” she asks Francesca, almost too quiet to hear.
She directs Kate to the bed and the designer-model walks gingerly over, leaning on the edge of the mattress with her hands tucked underneath her bottom. I almost feel bad for her, looking as nervous as she does.
“Go on, drop your robe,” Francesca says.
Kate’s expression tenses and she lowers her eyes, pulling on the satin strap. The curtain falls open. Her breasts swell in the black bra, the outline of her pink nipple peeking through the lace. And her thong . . . well, it leaves very little to the imagination. She may be a designer but her body is just as fit as the models I photograph all the time. Better even, as she’s not rail thin with no tits or behind. Her hourglass figure makes me want to slide my tongue from her waist up to those beautiful breasts. She hugs her body, pressing her boobs together, creating that perfect line of cleavage. There’s a new tingle in my underpants, and I clench my thighs. I’ve been on some tough jobs before but this is something else.
Francesca sits on the bed, mimicking how Kate should pose. While beautiful, Francesca’s not a model and doesn’t realize that there’s more to it than lying on a bed, looking pretty. At least that’s what models have told me over a glass of wine on my penthouse terrace.
Kate sits on her hip, propping herself up with her arm. Francesca pulls a ringlet from her hair and lays it over the front of her shoulder, then positions her feet.
“That’s good, don’t you think?” Francesca asks, rubbing her chin with her finger.
I stare at Kate and clear my throat, tucking my tongue inside my mouth. If I don’t keep my lips closed, my licker will hit the floor like one of those old-fashioned cartoons. “It’s fine. Shall we get started?”
Francesca scoots off the set and I snap a few shots. Even through the lens, I can see Kate’s trembling lips.
“Try to relax, Kate,” I say. “You look beautiful.”
Kate pulls her mouth back in an exaggerated smile. “Okay.”
“Honey, relax your face,” Kate’s friend calls out.
She pushes a breath out, flapping her lips. “I’m trying, Garret.”
“You look hot!” he shouts. “Just pretend you’re seducing the sexiest man alive.”
Kate flickers her jade eyes at me. Her cheeks flush with a warm glow before she drops her gaze.
I shoot that Garret git a look. “You’re not helping.”
Garret shrugs and pulls out his phone, turning on his heel. “Whatever . . .”
“Can we get some music going?” I call out. “Kate, what would you like to listen to?”
“I dunno. What do you have?” she asks with hunched shoulders. Why is she not more comfortable in her knickers? She’s the one who designed them.
I pull my phone from my pocket and scroll through a music app for a sultry, electronic R&B artist, whose music makes women’s hips sway. “Put this on,” I say, handing my phone to one of the production assistants. Soon, the saxophone sounds with a cool, finger-snapping beat keeping the rhythm. “Is this all right?”
“Sure,” she says, though her body remains unbending. Too bad there isn’t time for a couple of brandies. That would loosen her right up. If she doesn’t relax soon, we’ll lose the light. The crew stands around, chatting, and scrutinizing Kate’s rigid poses. If I can feel their judgments, I know Kate can too. And it’s not making things any easier for our model-slash-designer.
Two songs later, she’s still stiffer than the hard-on she left me with last night. This isn’t working. I’ve got a dangerous idea but it may be the only way to get the job done. “Okay, everyone out!” I call, lowering my camera, glaring at the crew.
They all freeze and fall silent, staring at me with half-smiles as if I’m cracking a joke. “I’m serious, piss off.”
“You heard the man. Let’s go!” Francesca demands and the crew slowly shuffles out. I send Francesca an appreciative nod, and wait until the last person is out and the door is shut before turning back to the designer-model.
Kate stares at the closed studio doors with wide eyes, her cheeks losing that pink glow. I hope I didn’t just make it worse.
“It’s Just Kate and Just Drew, all right? There’s no need to be nervous anymore,” I say in a friendly tone.
“Yeah, sure there isn’t.” She rolls her eyes, and I wonder what it would be like to watch those gorgeous green eyes roll back as I grind into her.
I smirk, shifting my hips. If only I could adjust myself without grabbing my slightly throbbing cock. “Why don’t you lie down on your stomach, lean up on your elbows?”
“If you can’t see the lingerie, it kinda defeats the purpose,” she says in a much bolder tone, calling the shots. She’s not the boss in here, though, I am.
“Oh, so you want me to see your lingerie?” I toy with the words, this time getting a little smile out of her.
“You know what I mean.”
I position the camera. “Yes, I do. But it’s not for the magazine. It’s just to help you feel less . . . exposed.”
She shrugs, then lifts up on her hands and knees, crawling to the middle of the bed. Fuck me. Kate is hot. “I think we’re past being exposed,” she says, lowering herself down on the bed with her feet in the air behind her.
I bite my lip and snap a photo. “So, Kate, I have to admit when I met y
ou the other night, I did not have you down as a lingerie designer.” Unfortunately, I didn’t peg her at all.
“Oh, yeah? Well, I didn’t peg you for a photographer.” Her shoulders ease up and I can tell she’s getting a little cozier.
“I bet you never thought you’d see me again, huh?” I ask.
Kate looks away shamefully. “Honestly, no.”
I examine the curve of her ass in the lens. “Yeah, me neither. I was definitely surprised when I walked in on you half-naked today.”
She flashes a wry glance. “I’m sure that was vengefully satisfying for you.”
“Why? Because you left me with wet pants the other night?” Her face turns a slight shade pinker. “I don’t know about vengefully satisfying, but it did ease my pain a little.”
She tosses her long, curled locks over her shoulder. “I’m sure there was some woman around to ease your pain.”
I chuckle. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means that we knew each other for twenty minutes when you asked me to go upstairs with you. You’re obviously not shy.” She’s right about that. “I bet you had another girl in that room another twenty minutes later.” That night when Kate didn’t return after a while, I considered making another round at the party. But I couldn’t bring myself to get interested enough. I’d seen them all before anyway. Hooked up with a handful even. I knew exactly what I’d be in for, and for some reason, the craving for Kate spoiled my appetite for the rest.
“Are you calling me a womanizer?” I say, playfully, knowing she is. I round the bed, snapping a photo of that plump booty, catching a glimpse of the ribbon that ties her thong together. I’d love to pull it open right about now. “Look back this way.”
Kate glances over her shoulder, batting her long dark lashes. “I guess I am.”
“You know, deep down I knew you were never coming back. You’re not that kind of girl.” The music plays overhead and I circle the bed, getting shots from every angle.
“You don’t know what kind of girl I am, and I was going to come back.”
I look at her twisted expression over my camera. “Then why didn’t you?”
“My best friend needed my help at that moment, so I helped her.” Her voice is sweet and honest and I know that I had been right about her. I also know that this is the closest I will ever get to shagging her.
I kneel down, snapping a picture of her face. “Beautiful,” I say. “You ready to change positions?”
She blushes. “Okay.”
With a healthy trust account and good genes, women often throw themselves at me with fierce aggression. But Kate’s cute, coy glances are surprisingly more fun. Not to brag, but earning the attention of a beautiful woman has been pretty easy for me. Except Kate isn’t like those women. If I want her, I know she’ll make me work for it. And I never shy away from a challenge.
“Why don’t you stand up and grab onto the bedpost?”
She rises slowly and climbs off the bed, dragging her stilettoes across the floor like she’s strutting up to a pole. Watching her slender fingers wrap around the tall bedpost, I want nothing more than for her to put her hands around my . . . bedpost. “How’s this?”
“It’s good,” I say, hoping she can’t see my flushed cheeks behind the camera. My temperature rises to a fever pitch. I set my camera down on a table and slide off my leather jacket, taking in a few deep breaths and sidetracking my mind with thoughts of polo matches.
“You okay?” she asks.
I clear my throat and grab the camera. “Fine.” The top of her lace stocking is folded down just enough to be distracting. “Wait,” I say, approaching her, balancing my camera in one hand.
“What?” Kate steps back against the bed, gripping the bedpost.
I get down on one knee, trailing the tip of my finger up from the edge of her knee to the top of her stocking.
“What are you doing?” Her sun-kissed thigh tenses.
I glance up, watching her chest rise and fall. A digit slips just barely inside the threshold of her hosiery. “There,” I say, fixing the lace. “Perfect.” My gaze draws up, her nearly see-through thong centimeters from my face. What if I were to take her into my mouth right now and drink up every drop of her? What would the good girl do then?
“Drew?” she says. A sure sign I’ve lingered too long.
I tilt my chin, admiring her silky skin from this angle. “One more thing.” I rise up, running my fingertips up her soft thigh, catching for a brief moment on the band of her thong. Her stomach quivers as I continue up the side of her waist until I stand tall next to her, my hand barely touching her shoulder. Kate’s eyes meet mine as she takes in a slow, airy breath, heat radiating from her entire body. I flash her my hungry-eyed gaze and her luscious mouth parts slightly.
I bite my lower lip, making a slight sucking noise then glance down at her shoulders and chest. Wedging my finger beneath her thin bra strap, I pull it over the edge of her shoulder and let go, watching it dangle against her arm. “Now, it’s perfect.”
I give her one last glance then step away. When I turn back, she’s a little breathless but super sexy with her bra strap hanging off her shoulder. I snap photo after photo, not saying another word but letting the sultry music fill that tingly space between us. Kate leans into the post, tilting her head, exposing her neck. Through the lens, I can see something’s changed. She gazes at me with an intense fire in her eyes.
I want to drop my camera to the floor, strip off my clothes, and play with her body like it’s my own amusement park—sliding my tongue up and over, in and out. After all, we’re alone with a bed. But I can’t. This is supposed to be business, not pleasure.
The sunlight shifts, dimming the glow in the room. I snap the final shot. “That’s a wrap.”
“Really, that’s it?” Kate asks, resting her hand on her hip.
I dismantle my camera, tucking it inside my bag, and glance at her with a smirk. “Yeah, did you expect something more?”
“I just thought it would last longer.”
If only I could show her how long I can really last. But it’s over. At least for now. “Blame the light.” I nod toward the window.
She looks behind her at the sunny stream coming in the studio. “Oh, right.”
I slide back into my jacket, slinging my bag over my shoulder, and grab Kate’s satin robe hanging over the armrest of a nearby chair. The robe’s soft in my hands but not as soft as I imagine she is. “Here,” I say, holding it open. She slips her slender arms inside the sleeves and I lay the fabric gently on her shoulders. What a shame, covering her up like that.
“Thanks,” she says, sweeping her dark brown hair to the side. The robe’s still open and she doesn’t seem to be in a hurry to close the curtain. Is she inviting me in?
“You’re welcome.” I take one last look at her stunning curves, those pink lips, and luminous eyes. “See you around, Kate” I say in a low bass tone, then turn to leave. Goodbye, my American beauty. I have a feeling we’ll meet again soon.
Three
KATE
Did he really just leave? After touching me like that? Breathing on my skin? What a tease! I grip the ends of the robe’s sash, tying it tightly around my waist. The studio door opens again and my stomach tightens.
Is he back?
No, it’s just Francesca and some of the other crewmembers. I let out a heavy exhale, unsure if I’m relieved or disappointed.
“How’d it go?” Francesca asks.
“Great!” I flash her a quick smile and trot past her in my stilettos as fast as I can without toppling over. Garret’s standing just outside the studio doors and looks up from his phone with a cheery smile.
“So, did you loosen up in there?” Garret flicks his brows up.
“Is he gone?” I ask, peering over his shoulder.
“Who?”
I shoot him a glare. “Drew, the photographer.”
Garret looks back down the hallway. “Yeah, that guy could n
ot get out of here fast enough. Kinda the way you left the party last night.”
“Really?” I search Garret’s face for any details about what transpired between the moments that Drew left the studio and disappeared down the hallway.
A devilish grin spreads across his face. “Yeah, why? Something happened in there, didn’t it?”
I let out a heavy sigh, snatch his arm, and drag him to the dressing room with me.
Garret’s face lights up like the London Eye after dark. “Oh, my God! What happened in there?”
I say nothing until I’ve closed the door to the changing room behind us. “Nothing happened. I thought he was going to make a move, but then he basically disappeared.”
“Hmm, I wonder where he got that idea from.” He purses his mouth, folding his arms, his phone still clutched in one hand.
“You think he was trying to get back at me?”
“Maybe.”
I bite my lip, thinking that if he was being spiteful, it was a dick move. “Can you turn around, please?”
Garret gives a slight eye roll and turns to face the door. “I got the scoop on him while we were waiting in the hall.”
“What’s the story?” Drew is mysterious, which is kinda hot. But it only makes me more curious about him. I slip my thong down from under the robe. The crotch is sopping wet. Guess I’m keeping these. I tuck the undies in my purse, then slip on my jeans, and swap my lacy Kate Golden bra for my more practical Calvin Klein bra.
“Apparently, he comes from family money. And he has a lot of it. Like, more than he would ever need,” Garret says, which I find hard to believe. Why does he work if he has piles of money? Plus, he doesn’t dress like a billionaire or act all pretentious like the super-rich guys I’ve encountered. And I know that crowd. I grew up with those elitists and Drew just doesn’t fit that bill. “But he’s a total player. A modelizer. No one’s ever seen him canoodling with a woman for longer than a few weeks.”
Guess I was right about one thing. He’s a modelizer, which might be slightly worse than being a womanizer. “Do you think that’s why he left? Because I’m not a model?”
“Maybe. Or maybe he’s secretly gay.” Garret’s gaze draws up in a daydreamy look.