Shut Up and Model for Me (15 page)

I scream, more out of surprise than pain. But it makes Britain drop her camera none-the-less.

“Jesus, Evan! Are you okay?”

I take in a few deep, shaking breaths. “Y-yes. He just shocked me.”

“Err… is
this
okay?” she then asks.

Dallas kneads the area where he smacked gently, but says nothing. I can already feel wetness soaking the apex of my thighs. Soon, he’s going to see it. He’s going to
feel
it.

“Just shoot the fucking pictures,” I tell her.

Taking the cue, Dallas raises his hand and smacks me again, and again—every connection stinging more than the last until my ass is on fire. The fingers of his other hand tangle through my hair, and then he balls his hand into a fist around my locks, tugging gently. He massages me again and I groan in relief.

Bending forward, he whispers to me, “You are mine until this is over.”

He raises his hand and smacks me again, the sharp crack filling the air. I cry out, balling the frilly fabric of the comforter in my fists.

He loops his finger beneath the band of my thong and tugs downward until it slides off my legs and onto the floor. He begins to knead my ass again, fingers sinking into the flesh of my abused cheek. I relax every tense muscle in my body, my head resting on the mattress. I allow my eyes to flutter shut. Not a single part of me is acting right now. Every emotion racing through me—all of them are real.

Dallas drags his fingers up the inside of my thigh, grazing the lips of my pussy. “So fucking wet,” he whispers loudly enough for only me to here. His hand slides back over my ass again and up my back, unhooking my bra. I lift my shoulders to shimmy out of it, and he flips me over, lifting his hand so Britain can toss him a tiny white cloth we’re going to use to separate our bodies in our faux fucking.

I lie on my back on the bed. Dallas stands and drops his boxers, and I do my best to keep my jaw from dropping at my very first glimpse of his erection. He drapes the cloth over my hips, and I gasp as he drags me to the edge of the bed.

His expression is furious and lustful and gorgeous.

He grasps my knees and pulls my legs apart, situating himself in between them. “Just like at your mom’s place.”

“What?”
Britain cries.

He glances over at her. “Hey, you over there with the camera—don’t ruin the moment.”

I giggle and his eyes fall to me again—sea foam on fire. “Just like we practiced,” he rumbles, and rocks forward.

I lift my hands over my head, arch my back, and allow my lips to part in ecstasy.

“Fucking perfect,” Britain says. “Don’t move.”

We remain like this for a handful of seconds until Britain gives the go-ahead, and Dallas ducks his head, tongue darting out to swirl around my nipple. I gasp when he bites down softly, rocking my hips into his. His erection rubs against my soaking slit, driving me mad.

“Please,” I whisper when his face is right above mine.

“What?”

“I want you.”

He inhales deeply through his nose and shuts his eyes, like he’s about to lose control. And I want him to. I
need
him to. When he opens his eyes again, they find my lips. He raises his fingers to my mouth and traces it, and when I part my lips, he pushes his index finger past. I suck it into my mouth and drag my tongue along the underside of his digit, eyes fluttering shut like it’s the best fucking thing that’s ever been in my mouth.

Because it is.

He groans, and when he pulls his hand from me, his finger slides from my mouth with a pop. His breathing is rapid. I reach up and cup his face, and his expression flickers with sadness. And then fear.

“That’s a wrap,” Britain says softly.

^^^^

When Dallas dresses and leaves, I return to the living quarters side of the house and take a shower. As I wash the makeup and sweat and stickiness from my skin, I close my eyes and meditate on what it felt like to be with Dallas today, as pissed as he made me. The two of us won’t be doing this again for a while. Hell, who knows. After the way we acted today, Britain might not stick him with me again.

Maybe it’s for the best.

After an eternity beneath the scalding jet, I turn the shower off and step out of the tub, wrapping myself in a towel. I open the door and enter the hall, surprised to see Britain standing by my bedroom door. She stares blankly at the adjacent wall, slowly turning her phone over and over in her hand.

“Brit?”

She blinks and glances at me. “Dallas quit.”

Dallas

Britain promised me she’d mail me all my checks from here on out. I can’t go back to that studio again.

I can’t see Evan.

Granted, this is impossible with Evan being in my department. I practically see her every goddamn day of my life, if not only from a distance. She hasn’t texted me or called me. When she passes me in the halls, she looks away. When I hand an assignment back to her in the lecture hall, she takes it without a word.

She knows.

It’s that every second I’m with her, I crave her. I ache for her. And I can’t stop doing this to myself.

To us.

Because it’s turning me into a cheater, and a terrible person.

The second issue in the EPE series is released the day that Tricia comes home. When she walks in the door, she squeals and races to me, jumping into my arms. “Missed you,” she says between kisses. “Missed you, missed you, my Dallas.”

I show her my first check for four grand, more money than I’ve probably ever made in a pay period. I also show her, with reluctance, the new issue. She scans my pool photo shoot with Evan as if she were shopping for socks. “This is your calling,” she tells me. “Screw biology.”

“I quit.”

She drops the magazine and gapes at me, and I pull her to my chest, wrapping her in my arms. “Trust me, it’s for the better.”

She pushes away from me. “How can you say that, Dallas? You’re obviously talented. This could be it!”

“Because I love you and don’t want to be tempted by beautiful women every day of my life.”

“I already told you, Dallas. I trust you.” She’s practically begging me with her eyes.

I shake my head. How do I break it to her that I don’t trust myself? “We’ll talk about this another time.” Solid save. “I have paychecks from EPE that’ll be coming in until the end of summer, most likely. If it’s money you’re worried about…”

“I’m… I’m not,” she says with a small sigh. “I want you to be happy, and if this decision makes you happy, then so be it.”

“Thank you,” I take her face in my hands and plant a kiss on her lips.

^^^^

Now that I’ve quit EPE, my fame has become bearable.

I still get the looks, and the whistles (from sorority girls!), and all kinds of students asking me to sign their EPE copies, but somehow it’s okay. Maybe because I know now that this isn’t going to last forever—that this is only a phase in my life, I’m willing to accept it. Maybe that’s why Evan isn’t. Maybe she thinks that she’ll forever embody Rylan, and she’s not ready to merge her lives permanently.

I could just be speculating now.

Three weeks after I quit, I’m grading papers in my office with the usual team of grad students when the door opens. I look up to the last face in the world that I’m expecting.

“Evan?”

All heads in the office turn to look at her. She bites her bottom lip and hugs her binder to her chest. She’s dressed in her usual school attire—sweats and glasses, no makeup, her hair pulled up—but somehow she looks different. Smaller.

“I just… I, umm… just wanted to let you know that you were right.”

I furrow my eyebrows, confused.

“I got into Harvard,” she says with a ghost of a smile.

My mouth falls open. “Oh my God. Evan…”

She swallows, her eyes glistening. “Yeah, I know.” Suddenly it’s like she realizes that we’re not the only two in the room. She glances around at the other students. They don’t even know her and are gawking at her success. Even Brad.

“I gotta go,” she says. “Good to see you.”

And before I can respond, she slips from the office, and is gone.

“Damn, Harvard,” says someone. “Who was that?”

“A friend,” I murmur.

“She’s a babe,” Brad says, swiveling in his chair and tossing a Dorito in his mouth. “Kind of looks like Rylan Willow.”

And then he freezes, and his eyes pop out of his head.

Mother. Fucker.

“Dude.
Dude
. Was that Rylan Willow?”

I keep the straightest goddamn face I can manage. “You think that was Rylan Willow?”

Brad turns to the rest of the grad students. “Did that
not
look like Rylan Willow?”

There’s some murmuring, but not a firm consensus.

“I can assure you,
Brad
, Rylan wouldn’t come visit me in the middle of the day. She likes her privacy.”

“What did you say her name was? Evan?”

My pulse pounds in my ears. Brad wears a massive idiotic grin. I say nothing and he drops it, but I know he hasn’t really. He has her name. He knows what she looks like. If he hunts her down and studies her face….

“Rylan Willow…” he whispers with a chuckle.

I pull out my phone and text beneath the desk,
I think I just blew your cover.

Chapter Fourteen

Evan

Whether the origin of my blown identity stemmed from my meeting with Dallas or not, I’ll never know. I knew it would happen eventually. I guess it’s best that it happened now, considering I’m leaving this place in two months.

No one has confronted me directly yet. I’ve heard the name
Rylan
called from a distance as I’ve walked across campus. I’ve been cat called a few times, but no one has had big enough balls to be direct with me. I’m sure it will happen before I graduate. The only way I can try to prevent it is to be on campus as little as possible. Which means I never see Dallas anymore.

I haven’t seen him in two weeks.

Mom screamed over the phone for a solid three minutes when I told her that I got into Harvard. And then she started to cry. “I can give you nothing,” she told me. “Nothing to help you. I’m worthless.”

“Mother, listen to me,” I begged. “I’m already getting aid. And I’ll apply for more grants. I’m fine. I promise.”

What she doesn’t know and won’t ever find out is that, by the end of summer, I’ll have enough money from erotic modeling to pay for an entire semester at Harvard.

It’s a start.

Now that Dallas is gone, it’s easier to look at the first two released issues in the series and the remainder of the photosets without breaking into a hot, embarrassed sweat. I even help Britain choose the best images to work into Andrea’s story over a six pack of beer one night. Now that I’m done modeling, I’m a hell of a lot more liberal with my diet.

“I like the one where he’s biting your nipple,” she says nonchalantly as we’re browsing through images of shoot number five. God, this business sure makes our relationship a weird one.

“It’s not as badass as the spanking one.”

She snorts. “Bad
ass
. I see what you did there. We’ll use both, dummy. I just think the nipple pic has merit.”

“Fine, fine,” I say, polishing off my beer when Delilah walks in the front door. She doesn’t even look our way, walking straight up the stairs and to her bedroom.

Britain sighs audibly.

“I need to fix this, don’t I?” I ask.

“You know my response,” she says.

I make my way on the stairs semi-reluctantly and knock on Delilah’s door. She cracks it and scowls upon seeing that it’s me. “What do you want?”

“Can I come in? Please?”

She rolls her eyes and walks to her bed. I push open the door to watch her flop onto her comforter, picking up her phone. I take a seat at her computer chair and wait for her to finish. When realizing that she won’t ever finish because she doesn’t want to look at me, I say, “I don’t want your forgiveness.”

Her fingers freeze on her phone keyboard, and she glances at me.

“I don’t deserve it. I did a horrible, inconsiderate thing, and as sorry as I can be, it won’t ever be enough.” I shrug my shoulders. “I fucked up, Delilah.”

Her bottom lip trembles, her eyes watering. “You don’t even want to hang out with me anymore. I didn’t get it. I didn’t get why you suddenly decided to hate me so much and take him from me.”

I bury my face in my hands. “Shit, Delilah.” When I look up, I move from the chair to the bed and wrap my arms around her. “I could never, ever hate you. I’ve been self-absorbed lately. So self-absorbed that I didn’t even realize you
liked
Adam. What happened between us was nothing. It was less than nothing. I was feeling lonely and vulnerable and drunk and horny and he was there. And I know that excuse will never fix things, but I just need you to know that.”

She gives a weak smile and nods, wiping the back of her hand with her eyes. “Thanks, Evan.”

I nod and stand, walking toward the door. I pause and look back at her. “Can I give you a bit of advice from experience?”

She sniffs. “I guess.”

“Things get confusing in this business. Tell him how you really feel to his face. Even if it terrifies you. Even if you’re worried that it’ll make things awkward.

“Don’t let this series end without him knowing.”

Dallas

It’s just one of those Fridays that blows no matter how you try and dress it up in your head. I’m pretty sure I bombed my anatomy test this morning. The Scantron machine broke so I have to grade all those little fuckers by hand. There’s also a huge storm rolling in, and I parked on the other side of campus.

All
the way on the other side.

I’m really not expecting it to get any shittier. I should have known better.

Sitting in my office with the door cracked, someone in the lobby right outside shouts
Rylan
.

“Rylan… Rylan Willow!”

I stand up so fast I almost knock my entire desk over.

“Come, baby. Show me some lovin’. How about a little skin?”

I run out of the office. The tables and couches in the lobby are packed with students, all of their heads turned towards Brad. He approaches Evan with a swagger—Evan, who stands near the double doors with her binder clutched to her chest. Her eyes dart to me, and she shakes her head rapidly.