VAIN (The VAIN Series)

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VAIN (The VAIN Series) Page 5

by Deborah Bladon


  "Yes. When did you get interested in it?" The words float from my lips without any curiosity attached to them. I already know the answer. After meeting Kayla at the bar, I had spent hours that night researching more about him. I'd watched a video on a website that was filmed years ago where he spoke eloquently about his love of photography. It was difficult to watch. He was scar free, much younger and had a very carefree air about him. The barrier that was an integral part of his demeanor now didn't seem to exist back then.

  "When I was a kid…" his voice trails into the distance, as I close my eyes, drifting into a place of utter silence and solitude.

  Chapter 14

  The now too familiar sound of a picture being taken rouses me from a dream. My eyes flutter open and I'm instantly assaulted with the lens of a camera, mere inches from my face. I push at it without thinking.

  "Hey. Don't." His voice is soft and calm. There's a playful edge to it that is unfamiliar to me.

  "Noah?" I push the camera aside now and he's there, right there. He's kneeling next to the side of the bed. "You can't take pictures of my face."

  "These are only for me." He pushes a button on the camera and stares at it. I know he's checking the images he just took. I recognize the focused intent on his face.

  "I fell asleep." I clear my throat to chase away the rumbling purr that's there. "I'm sorry."

  He places the camera down next to me before resting his chin on the side of the bed. "Your body is so perfect. I got all the shots I need."

  A wave of disappointment rushes through me even though those were the words I've longed to hear. It meant that I didn't need to come here anymore. It meant we had no reason to see one another. "So we're done?"

  "No." His index finger pushes a stray hair back from my forehead. "We're not done. We're done for today."

  I don't say anything. I'm not sure why I reacted so strongly to the idea of being done with him. I'm days away from that now. I want this to be done, don't I?

  "Are you going to the show when it opens?" He taps his index finger on my arm. "I think you should be there."

  "Will you be there?" I counter back. I hadn't even entertained the idea of going to his show. Seeing my own naked body on full display wasn't on my bucket list.

  He pulls his full lips into a straight line. "I haven't decided yet."

  "You don't go out at all, do you?" The fact that his coffee table is always littered with take-out boxes, and the call girl who arrived almost at the same time as me that first night, were both glaring signs of his preference for being at home. Everything he needed to be satiated was delivered right to his doorstep.

  He rests his chin on the bed as his eyes scan my face. "Would you go out if your face looked like mine?"

  "You know that it looks different to you than anyone else." I don’t meet his eye. I can't. I don't want him to see any of the lingering desire that I still feel for him. I can't temper that. I've tried to since I came into his apartment, but it's futile.

  "How so?" His brow softens.

  "When I look at you it's just part of your face." I pull my hand into a tight fist to ward off the temptation to reach out and graze my fingers along the scar. "It doesn't take anything away from how you look, it adds to it."

  He stills as if he's absorbing the words. I expect a dismissive retort. I assume he's going to tell me that I can't measure how it feels. He doesn't flinch as his eyes dart from my face to my lips and back again. "Tell me about your friend. You said she has a scar."

  "On her chest," I offer. "She had a transplant."

  "That's easier to accept."

  I know the intention of his words. "Because she can hide it under her clothing?"

  "That and…" he begins before he stalls to take a heavy swallow. "The circumstances."

  "The circumstances?" I push myself up so my head is resting against my hand.

  "I fell in love with a woman once," he whispers the words softly. "She loved someone else."

  I sigh heavily. He's going to confess something to me now. He's going to pull down the wall that surrounds him and let me beyond it. If that happens, the entire dynamic of this is going to shift to a place where I'll want him as desperately as I did the other night when he had me bound to his bed.

  "He found out about me and this happened." His hand touches his cheek over the scar. "And this…" His other hand rests just above the large tattoo that adorns his shoulder. "And this…" His hand slides to his chest and yet another intricate tattoo that I've become familiar with when I've stared at him.

  I lean closer to him on the bed, not caring that my breasts have popped out from beneath the sheet that he draped over me. "You were stabbed?" My voice is barely audible as I study his body, noticing the thin raised scars that transverse his shoulder, his arm and his chest.

  He only nods in response. "It was easy to cover these." His chin tilts down. "Not so easy to cover this." The hand that is still resting on his cheek quivers slightly.

  "You hide because of that?" I want desperately to reach out to cover his hand with my own but I can't do that. I won't allow myself to get that close to him. I know that he can't be vulnerable. I know that he doesn't want to be.

  "It's not hiding." There's no anger in his tone, only quiet clarification. "It's a reminder of something I'll never have again."

  "What?"

  He pulls his lips into a thin line. "I chase perfection. It's why I'm the way I am."

  Before this conversation I'd absorb that statement as swollen arrogance but not now. "You want perfection because you don't think you'll ever be perfect?"

  "I used to be." He sounds distant. "I'm not now."

  "No one is." It's not only the right thing to say, it's the truth. In his convoluted, world famous photographer mind he may think he was once perfect, but that's simply not true. Hasn't anyone ever told him that before?

  "I once was." He stalls as his eyes scan my face. "I once was as perfect as you."

  Chapter 15

  "I'm far from perfect." I smile broadly. "Very, very far."

  "I chose you for my show because you're perfect. Everything about you speaks to me in that way." It's meant to be a compliment. At any other moment, I'd completely absorb it that way. I want to absorb it that way. I want it to bear the meaning that it's meant to but it doesn't. The words are clouded by the fact that he made a conscious decision not to make love to me when I was tied to his bed; my body was literally dripping with wanton and tangible desire for him.

  "If I was perfect you would have fucked me," I say clearly. The words sound brash and violent coming from my lips. There's an undeniable attack within them. It's not directed towards him as much as myself. The rejection that I felt that night mirrored what I'd been feeling for weeks after my lover in Paris chose to unhinge me emotionally by tricking me into seeing him with the woman who owned his heart. His public display of affection destroyed all of my self-esteem and being denied Noah's body had only multiplied the emotional impact of that tenfold.

  "I couldn't fuck you." He reaches across the bed to cover my hand with his. "I couldn't let myself do it."

  "Why?" My voice is cracking because everything inside of me is suddenly off balance. I had vowed not to bring this up with him. I had promised myself that I wouldn't dwell on it and instead would show up, pose and get the hell out of his life.

  "One taste of you unravelled me completely. If I would have fucked you that night that would have been the end of me."

  "You're too dramatic," I say half-teasingly. I want the room to have more air. I need to have more space to think and feel. "You didn't fuck me because you wanted to take my picture."

  "No." He slides his body from the floor into the bed next to me. "I didn't fuck you because I'd never let you go if I did."

  "You're a horrible liar." I push myself to the very edge of the bed to try and gain distance from him and his sudden pronouncements of unending desire for me. What the hell happened when I fell asleep?

  "I want you
so badly, Alexa." His tongue darts across his lips as the words flow from them. "I really want you."

  "You want me?" I push my ass even closer to the edge. I'm about ready to tumble out and onto the hardwood floor. "You don’t actually want me, Noah."

  "I do." He edges closer. I can feel the warmth of his body radiating against mine.

  I'm inches away from falling into him and his lips. I have to pull myself together and get out of here before he decides he needs money shot for his gallery show next week.

  "I can't do this." I press my hand against his rock hard chest. "We can't."

  His arm leaps beneath the sheet to circle my waist. "Give me a reason why."

  "You're playing me." I want the words to sound simple and straightforward. I want him to know that I realize that along with great picture taking skills, he's a master of manipulation.

  "No." His hand traces a path across my bare hip. "I'm not playing."

  "You don't fuck your models." I repeat back word-for-word what he said to me right before I signed the contract stipulating that he could take as many nude photos of me as he pleased.

  "You said you break rules." The question floats across his lips with a raised brow. "Tell me that you don't want to know what it's like to feel my cock inside of your body, Alexa. Say it."

  I lick my lips as the mention of his dick. He knows that I want it. My body has betrayed me endlessly since we began this wickedly tempting dance that he calls a photography project. "You know I can't say that."

  "Tell me what you want." His eyes are focused completely on my mouth. "Say it, Alexa."

  "No." I shake my head slightly. He wants me to confess that I want him right now. He wants me to utter the words and then he's going to grab his camera, take a round of photos and send me on my way.

  "Did you fuck another guy the other night when you left here?" he asks, his eyes boring into mine. "Did you leave here and take another guy into your bed because I didn't fuck you?"

  "That's none of your business," I spit back.

  "I can't stop thinking about fucking you, Alexa." He shifts his body effortlessly so he's almost above me now. "I really want to fuck you."

  "You're going to get me all worked up." I push my hands into his arms. "When you do you'll take another picture of me."

  "I won't touch my camera until you come."

  Now there's a promise that I wish I could bet on. I stare at his face, soaking in the chiseled features. His nose is slender, straight and strong. His jawline is uncompromising and full. The scar that weaves a path down his cheek is unmistakable, even though he hasn't shaved in days. He's beautiful, marred and completely unreadable.

  "Let me have you." His voice is deep, dark and filled with a need that I feel within my own body. "Let me fuck you, Alexa. Now."

  My mind screams at me to stop, my heart tells me that this can't end well but my body…my body slides over his as I give in to what we both need, want and have to have.

  Chapter 16

  "Don't move your hands, Alexa." His voice trails over my breast right before his teeth sink into the flesh over my nipple. "I'm going to fuck you just like this."

  I grip harder to the pillow above my head. I scream at the assault of tender pain that comes beneath his mouth. "Don't bite me, Noah," I whisper. "No."

  He ignores my trembling plea and pulls my engorged nipple between his perfect teeth. The razor sharp taste of exquisite pain races through my body at warp speed crashing directly into my core. My legs fall open involuntarily just from the sheer weight of my desire.

  "I'm going to make you so wet." His hand runs up my thigh and traces a path over my folds. "I've never been with a woman who got so wet. It's fucking amazing."

  I moan at the sensation of his skilled hands on my flesh. He's going to make me forget everything I want and need to forget. Christ, if his mouth and hands are any indication of his skill as a lover I'm going to forget my own name. "Please fuck me." I can't temper any of this. My body is physically aching for contact with his.

  I feel him shift on the bed and I look down to the condom package in his hand. This is the point where we stalled last time. If we can just get over this hurdle, I'm finally going to get the brass ring or in this case, the perfect, large cock inside of me.

  "Your pussy is so wet. Look at how it drips." He finishes rolling the condom over him before he dips his hand back between my legs. I watch with baited breath as he runs the moisture over his dick.

  "Oh, God," I whisper. "Now, Noah."

  "Now." He pulls me legs apart and sits between them, his full cock resting in his hand. "I've never fucked a woman like you before. Christ, how am I not going to blow my load as soon as I get inside of that?"

  I twist my hips as if to beckon him closer but he's already there. I feel the full tip on me. I arch my back off the bed to try and pull it in. I need it. I don't care what happens between us after this moment in time. I just want him.

  "Goddamn." He spits out through clenched teeth as he slides his cock into me.

  I shudder at the girth. It's already so much, so full and so good.

  His arm wraps around my right leg as he hoists it up allowing more room within my channel. A deep grunt comes pouring out of his body as he plunges balls deep into me.

  I come instantly from the assault. My muscles clench tightly around his cock. I claw at his arms, wanting him to still briefly so I can soak in all the pleasure.

  "Christ, Alexa." His lips course hot over mine. "You fucking came already, didn't you?"

  I can only nod into the kiss as I pull his lip between my teeth.

  "You're the hottest thing ever." He pulses his hips into me, his cock touching a spot deep within me. Each thrust is an exquisite mixture of pain and pleasure all wrapped into one.

  "Yes," I whisper unsure if the word actually left my body. I rock my hips up from the bed, trying desperately to keep up to his rhythm. He's fucking me hard and fast. The bed moves slightly with each tender assault. He's so strong, so muscular and he's so lost in our pleasure.

  "Alexa, your body…." The words transform into a deep and animalistic grunt. "Fuck your body."

  I grab hold of his shoulders trying to breathe. I'm so close again already. This feels so good. I can't tell him how good. No man has been so deep within every part of me before.

  "Ah, fuck." He pulls back and takes my body with him, pulling me onto his lap as he pounds his cock effortlessly into my body.

  "Your fucking pussy wants this." The words are pure and raw and only spur me on more. "You love this, don't you?"

  I can't talk. It's all too much. I can only nod and rock against him.

  "I'm going to come." He screams the words and his neck tenses, his shoulders stop and his hips pump over and over into me again.

  Chapter 17

  "Where will the show be?" I ask quietly as I finish dressing. I can't believe that just happened. I can't believe I can walk after this just happened. After tying up the condom, Noah had gone to get a warm cloth and had washed my body tenderly, wiping away all the sweat that had gathered on my chest and forehead before the pulled the wet, moist cloth between my folds. It was tender, too tender for the man who now sat in front of me, half-dressed staring at his smart phone.

  "The show?" His eyes dart up and over my face before a small grin pulls at the corner of his lips. "My show?"

  "The pictures you've been taking of me…" I suddenly feel embarrassed that others will see what he's been seeing. "Those pictures. Where will you be showing them?"

  "In New York." He moves past me to retrieve a pad and paper from a desk in the corner of his bedroom. "I'll write down the details."

  "I'm not sure I'll go." I feel way too connected to him to let this continue beyond our photography sessions. Logically I know most of that is tied in to everything that happened in Paris. I just had rebound sex with the best lover I've ever had. Why did he have to appear in my life right now? I wish I had met him before I'd left on my trip. Maybe if I'd never met B
eck, my heart wouldn't feel as completely muddled as it does right now. I never had trouble separating lust from love but since I found out what love actually feels like a few months ago, the line between them is blurred beyond any recognition.

  "Alexa." He pats the bed next to him. "Sit down."

  I fidget in place, moving back and forth between my feet. I don’t want to sit down. I've never felt this vulnerable before and I don't like it. I want to wash it away. As soon as I walk out of his front door, I'm jumping in a taxi and sprinting home to shower. Washing Noah Foster out of my body and mind can't be that hard, can it?

  "Sit down." His tone is unyielding and commanding.

  "Please don't take pictures of me right now," I say in a hushed tone. I can't handle that. The thought of him pulling out a camera so he can capture the post orgasmic glow on my face is more than I can shoulder right now.

  "Sit," he repeats even louder than the last time.

  I acquiesce and sit a few inches from him. My eyes settle on his hands and the piece of paper that is now dangling from his fingers.

  "Here are the details." He shoves the paper onto my lap and I grab for it before it flutters to the floor. "Come to the show with me."

  "What?" I glance at his face. I need confirmation of what he just asked me.

  "Let's go to New York together."

  A ball of desire pools within me. He wants to take me to New York, to his show. He never leaves his home and he wants us to travel to the city together.

  "I thought…" I stammer as I search for the compassionate way to present what I need and want to say to him. "I thought you didn't go out."

  "I don't." His eyes watch my face for any reaction. "I want to go with you."

  "Why?" I shake my head wishing I had tempered that with more compassion. It's too direct.

 

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