Marshall: Mayfair Model Series

by Castle, Claire

  I bounced onto the bed beside him. “That, or this, I said pointing to my phone, was earlier. That dodgy photo there are the tabloids apparently grasping at straws. They don’t even have a photo of us together. It was me and Jess—me, the dog walker, I might add—walking your dog, doing what I’m hired by the agency to do. Insanity, if you ask me.”

  I walked back to the kitchen to make some coffee. If anything, we both needed caffeine. I pressed the brew button, then brought in the two mugs to the bedroom and handed one to Marshall. “Look, it did spook me a bit earlier, and I was frightened, but not enough to change my routine or never walk on my own again. I had mighty Jess to protect me.” I looked down at her adorable big eyes and laughed. “Okay, well, not protect. But please, can we put this behind us. I’m fine, you’re fine”—I took a sip of the coffee—“and we have caffeine. Now, let’s do something fun since you only have a few more days until your next big trip.”

  He took two big gulps of the coffee and suddenly sat up. “Ah, I’m going to get on the treadmill. Need to keep in tip-top shape, you know.” Pushing his pyjamas and boxers off roughly, he grabbed some shorts out of the dresser and pulled them on. Any other time, I would have acted sassy and made a cheeky comment.

  He stomped away, not giving me a second look, and went to the small room he’d converted into a home gym. When he shoved the headphones in his ears, I knew to leave him alone for a while. Watching his body on the treadmill wasn’t hard on the eyes, far from it, but eventually I left and got in the shower. Alone.

  So much for spending a few wonderful days together. Who was I kidding though. He didn’t want to be seen with me, not that I could blame him. He just wasn’t ready to be seen as a couple in public—a couple, if that even was what we were—and I respected that. Simply spending time together in his loft would work for me, though maybe he didn’t want more than a random hookup. The gossip magazine must have really spooked him, whereas I myself didn’t give a shit.

  I got out of the shower and pulled a towel out of the cupboard. After drying off, I wrapped it round my hips and walked out and through to the guest room. Jess had stayed to watch her daddy work out, it seemed.

  I got dressed and opened the curtains to let some light in, then pulled my sketchbook out of my backpack and sat cross-legged on the bed. I took out my iPad to find the photo of the dog I’d been commissioned to draw. It was a beautiful Saint Bernard and the owner had lost him in an accident recently.

  As I sketched the face and body, I tried to keep my mind off of stupid, sulky male models. Well, one in particular. How had he gotten under my skin? And why did I still want to hug and console him given half the chance. If anyone else treated me that way, I’d have left, not giving it a second thought.

  While I sketched some more, I heard the sound of a shower turn on, then Jess came in so I lifted her up onto the bed. “Well, I guess there’ll be no perusing the markets today or picnics on the Thames, no bowling or going to a movie—you know, the ones with the seats that recline? Maybe I’ll ask Jamieson or Damien, or me and you could go out on our own. No, that won’t work because I’ll still get accused of something. Then again, I am still employed as your dog walker.”

  The shower had shut off and I listened much more closely than I’d like to admit for Marshall to get out. I was never this unsure. Maybe unsure was the wrong word—but it was too much of having to play a guessing game. Would he come to see me or retreat to his room?

  “Argh,” I said as I fell back on the bed. I really had to snap out of this for my own sanity, so I got lost in my sketching again. Using the different colours and shades of grey, brown, and black to bring the dog to life, I could see that I’d be able to create a wonderful memory for someone.

  “Hey,” I heard as he opened my—the door. It wasn’t really my door after all, was it? “Can I come in?”

  “Sure, make yourself at home. This is your place, I’m just a guest.” I smiled or tried to smile, but it came up short.

  “Don’t be like that. You’re welcome here. I … I like it when you’re around,” he said quietly. Then he walked over and sat down next to me, and I quickly folded my sketchpad away and shoved it in my backpack.

  “Well, funny way of showing it. The way you just stomped off?” I questioned, not giving him an easy way out. “Look,” I took his hands in mine and added, “I like being with you too, but you have to—”

  He cut me off. “I’m …”

  “No, just wait. I know it’s hard for you, but don’t shut me out. Just tell me anything, even when it’s bad. We can talk about it.” I rubbed his knuckles absently and looked into his eyes. Leaning forward, I kissed him and felt his smooth lips open for me.

  As we broke apart, he sighed. “Okay, the gossip article freaked me out. I know there’s been others that I probably haven’t even seen. I never cared when they printed photos of a woman and me at a restaurant, or an article about how we’d broken up after a month. But I care, uh, because it’s you. There.”

  17

  MARSHALL

  I wiped my eyes as they started to tear up. “I don’t want you to get thrown to the wolves because they have nothing better to do than to make up stories.”

  “One.” He stood up and strutted across the room in front of me. “I can take care of myself, as I have all these years, and two, I love that you are worried for me, but don’t be, okay?” Stuart walked over and pushed me back on the bed, then he straddled me, kissed up my neck, and then bit one of my nipples, making me groan.

  “Now, there’s only a few days before your trip, so we can stay in here for seventy-two hours straight, or risk venturing out? Much as I love the idea of a sex marathon, I want to go out. Is there anywhere you’ve been before that you go unnoticed?”

  “Hold that thought,” I said and lifted him off me then picked up my phone. “Brenna, hi. I need a car out back in two hours?” I listened before replying. “Yes, out of town. A couple of days ... Jess? No, she’s coming with me. Won’t need the dog sitter.” I winked at Stuart then.

  Listening to Brenna as she gave a rundown of when I needed to be back: flights, events, itinerary. I tried to concentrate, I really did, but was engrossed in Stuart. He’d moved his pants down just past his delicious cock and was slowly stroking himself.

  “Uh-huh, right, right. Can you email all of this to me,” I said, absently. Usually I would stay on the phone and we’d have detailed discussions about who would be there and what would be agreed to or not.

  “Oh, okay, sure, Marshall,” she replied, seemingly stunned. “Oh, wait, did you pick which pyjamas for the photoshoot? They asked if you wanted plaid or the ...” Stuart was rubbing in a quicker motion now and precum was glistening on the tip. Oh, fuck. Fuck. What had she just said?

  He licked his lips and rotated his hips, rubbing his cock at a frantic pace now. I could tell from the way his body moved and his neck muscles became elongated that he was close to coming. “Sure, Brenna, the green …”

  “There’s no green option …” I heard as I hit End.

  Stuart’s head leaned back and he let out a groan. Fuck. I stalked over to him and bent down, wrapping my lips around his glorious cock. Then I fondled his balls and the skin directly behind them. Within moments he was coming down my throat. The taste was tangy and all Stuart.

  He pulled his cock from my mouth and knelt down on the floor next to me. When he kissed me, I knew he could taste himself, and he nipped at my lips and twirled his tongue with mine. For once, I’d let myself just feel and relax. I poured everything into that kiss with him, all the emotions, all the stress, but also all the happiness I was feeling for the first time in my life. I brushed his cock lightly, but realized if I did much more of that, we’d not get away for my surprise—an impulse surprise that maybe I should have actually put some thought into. No time for that.

  Leaning my forehead against his, I said, “Okay, well, you’ll have to put that away. Not that I don’t enjoy it, but we have to get ready. Grab your stuff
.” Then I went through to my room with Jess following close behind.

  “But … where? What?” he said, sounding dumbfounded, almost at a loss for words.

  “Oh, does my smart-alecky man not like surprises?” I asked cheekily.

  “Your man? We’ll see about that. And no. What are we doing? I thought you didn’t want to go out?” he asked, practically jumping up and down.

  “Ah-ha! No no, Stuart Little.” I had no idea where this cheeky side of me was coming from, but I grabbed some casual clothes and threw them in the bag. I hadn’t told Stuart about the secluded cottage I owned in the countryside near York. In fact, I’d never brought a soul there, but somehow it felt right.

  Soon we were at the back door and I had a hoodie pulled up. Brenna had let me know the driver would give me the keys and another car would pick him up. Hopefully it would act as a decoy if any paparazzi was around. I opened the passenger door to the Mini for Stuart, and then I got in. I belted Jess in at the back.

  “When we get to your place, run upstairs and grab a small weekend bag.” I had waited for the other car to leave ahead of us and then drove out the alley to the main road. Taking a deep breath, I tried to not drive erratically as my white knuckles held the steering wheel.

  Stuart squeezed my thigh. “Uh, Marshall, are we going somewhere fun? ’Cos you look like we’re going to a funeral or something.”

  I glanced over at him and blinked. “No, no. It’s good, really. Just that I was worried, I guess, that all the paparazzi would be following us.” Pulling up at Stuart’s building, I was lucky to find parking right outside, so I watched as he ran up the stairs.

  A moment of panic set in as I thought of showing him my sanctuary. The real “home” to me. No one had been there. Not my family, not Brenna. Was this a supremely idiotic idea to bring Stuart? I took a deep breath. Jess let out a moan and I reached into the backseat to pet her.

  “I know. You are right. Stuart is good for us.” I couldn’t help but grin as he traipsed down the stairs with the huge Louis Vuitton suitcase he’d arrived at my place with all that time ago. Chuckling, I got out, thinking that I better help him. And praying it would fit. “What happened to packing lightly?” I queried.

  He waved his hand from his shoulder down to his hips. “I have no idea where we’re going, thanks to someone. And so I must be prepared.”

  “Okay, princess. I’ll pack this in. You get in the car.” And he skipped away. I couldn’t help but smile. I glanced around but there were no suspicious cars in sight.

  I turned on the radio to my favourite ’80s station as we left the city and tapped my fingers on the steering wheel as I navigated the roads.

  “What is this nonsense?” Stuart asked. Then he turned round to Jess. “Do you let him listen to this?” He rubbed her and her eyes opened wider, then she tilted her head.

  “Traitor,” I mumbled.

  Stuart promptly changed the station to something more modern, so after letting out a sigh, I chose to focus on driving instead. He tapped his fingers on his thighs then reached over to rub my neck. The small display of affection was all so effortless for him. I was a little bit in awe.

  “Now, Marshall, we can do this the hard way or the easy way. I can ask you constantly where we’re going, or you can just tell me?” His voice rose and when I glanced over, he batted his eyelashes. Wow, he really was desperate.

  Sighing, I didn’t answer. Instead, I joined in when the sweet sound of Texas came on the radio. I loved singing, even if I was terrible.

  As we left the city, I suddenly became more relaxed. Thinking back, I couldn’t even remember when I had last visited the cottage. I’d bought it with the intentions of eventually fixing it up while still keeping its integrity. I paid a gardener and housekeeper to keep it looking nice and tidy, but the DIY projects were certainly on hold. I’d phoned ahead to let them know there’d be guests so we wouldn’t be interrupted.

  As the lack of buildings and busy streets became apparent, we were soon enjoying the fields as the breathtaking countryside opened up around us. Since I wasn’t going to tell Stuart where we were going, I tried to think of something good to talk about, though my social skills were unnervingly scarce. “Uh, so do you like the city or country better?”

  “Well, I hate bugs, but I didnae mind it. Clean air is wonderful and I especially would love to visit an exotic beach: think blue water and golden sand! But it can be cozy too. A cabin and a cozy fire. That, I wouldn’t say no to. But I grew up in the countryside, you know, so I loved London when I first moved there ...”

  Again I was amazed at his ability to talk and socialize like it was the usual. Obviously, I was the one with the issues, and I tried not to let it get to me. It was Stuart after all, and he’d talk enough for the two of us. I bit my lip then chuckled. “Life Story 101. Got it.”

  He elbowed me playfully. “I love when I can pull out that sense of humour.”

  “Yeah, don’t get too used to it. Happens about twice a year.” I laughed and then paid attention to the road signs for York, the exit to the cottage.

  About five years ago, after I’d done a photoshoot at a similar cottage, I’d had the urge to buy one, so I’d looked online and found this one. The visits had been scarce even though I did try to give it my personal touch as best I could. It felt more like home for me than the flat in London.

  Whenever I’d managed to get a rare weekend off, I’d come to the cottage. Immediately, it made me feel at ease, even if I hadn’t attended to the projects. But then it was back to work and that would be that.

  As a matter of fact, I almost had forgotten my last stay there and had frantically phoned Brenna from whichever destination I was at to have her arrange for a cleaning crew. I’d no clue as to what I’d even left in the fridge.

  As the visits became more infrequent, I’d requested an interior designer to decorate it with some pieces from my favourite artist. They were still stored in a spare room there. Although that was a couple of years ago now, I wanted to try and make it look homey. I chose not to inspect very closely why I felt that was needed, it just seemed important for Stuart to see it—to see more of the real me.

  We turned the final corner and onto the gravel road; I was so lost in thought, I didn’t hear much when Stuart was obviously trying to get my attention.

  “What … where is this?” Stuart asked, looking over at me. He rubbed his hands together and kind of bounced on the seat. “For us? We get to be here alone? Walk together. Just be together?” I couldn’t damper his excitement.

  As I put the brake on, I looked at him. “Yeah … I, um, bought it a while ago”—he rubbed my upper arm, letting me know he was there. He could obviously tell it meant something to me—“and I’ve not got to come much. You know, work and stuff, but hopefully you’ll like it. I’ve never brought anyone here before.”

  He pushed back in the seat to turn and face me. I waited for Stuart’s billion questions or awkwardness over my confession, but all he did was take my face in both hands and kiss me. “It’s wonderful. Thank you for bringing me. Us,” he amended when he looked in the backseat at Jess.

  It looked the same as always. A quaint cottage like the one in that movie The Holiday that I’d once watched on a flight. About the only things that got my attention were Jude and that cottage. Out of habit, I glanced all around, but there was no one. No headlights, and no shadows.

  I got Jess out and let her have a pee. She was quite happy to follow me and Stuart, and I took deep breaths, trying not to have a panic attack. Opening the door, I let them in ahead of me.

  Stuart made his way around the kitchen and living room without waiting for me. Then he came back and enveloped me in a big hug. I wrapped my arm round his shoulder. “You … you like it?”

  18

  STUART

  To see Marshall so unsure of himself was almost heartbreaking. “Of course. It shows the real you. Not the sterile ‘work you’ like at your loft.” Then I stopped in my tracks. I couldn’t belie
ve my eyes. “W-what, uh …” I couldn’t finish a sentence. First time for everything. “I don’t understand,” I continued as I walked to the far wall. It was covered with my paintings. I touched one, as if to check that it was real.

  Even my rarer ones from when I’d first started were here. I spun round. “Marshall, why are these here?” I held my breath awaiting his reply. What if he was some crazy stalker? I chuckled at that notion. Maybe he knew my artist name, not that I really kept the two identities separate, but no one in my life had ever asked. It wasn’t a big deal.

  Marshall shoved his hands in the back of his jeans. “These … these drawings and paintings are by my favourite artist. Ah, yes, I just love how the landscapes come to life. It makes you feel like you’re there. Breathtaking, really. Uh, did you want to freshen up?” Jess pawed at his ankles then, and he scooped her up for a cuddle. It was so sweet.

  Should I tell him he had a shrine of my own creations. This was all very bizarre. Well, maybe not that bizarre. After all, I was on a secret getaway with one of the most sought-after models of the last decade. Maybe my revelation would just be the icing on the cake.

  I looked over and noticed he was giving Jess some food. I better get it over with. Marshall was welcome to his secrets, but I couldn’t see any point to keeping this one. “Ah, Marshall, come over here, will you?” I sat on the sofa and patted the other cushion, waiting.

  I rubbed my hands on my thighs.

  He stretched across to me. “What is it? Do you want to go home? Is this too much, Stuart?”

  “No, no, it’s not that. You know I do the dog walking? And I love it … I love Jess.”

  “Yes, and if you want to quit, I understand, really.” His eyes were shining as if they were welling up with tears.