Shut Up and Model for Me (8 page)

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I murmur.

“Fuck yes!” Britain squeals, raising the camera and taking a few test shots of Dallas. “Come on, Rylan. Don’t be a poor sport. Play into it.”

I take a huge breath and slowly start walking toward Dallas, who is stone-still.

“Rylan, you are meek and innocent,” Andrea instructs. “This professor is ruthless toward you. You’ve never done so horribly in a class before and all you want in the world is for your GPA to not drop from a sparkling 4.0.”

Not too far from real life
, I think.

“Give me dialog,” Andrea instructs. “Inspire me.”

Dallas grins wickedly. He’s having way too much fun with this. “I don’t think you can do it,” he says.

Fire ignites inside me. A challenge.

I look down, scuffing my feet timidly. “Professor, I’d like to ask if you’d make an exception and offer extra credit for me. It’s just, I’m a straight-A student and have never had such a difficult time in a class before.”

“Yes,” Britain hisses.

When I look up at Dallas, I can’t tell if he’s impressed or not by my acting. His expression lacks all amusement. He leans back in his chair. “The thing is, Rylan, I have girls coming into my office all of the time asking for extra credit. And their excuses are quite creative. So why should I give it to you and not to them?”

“Please, Professor,” I whimper. “I’ll do anything.”

Dallas can’t keep the smile from rising on his face. “Unzip your sweatshirt,” he orders me in a deep voice. “Slowly.”

“Is this okay, Andrea?” I hear Britain asking.

“Oh, I’m having the time of my life,” Andrea responds. “Keep going.”

Trying my hardest to keep my breathing under control, I slowly unzip my sweatshirt. Dallas’s eyes don’t leave mine the entire time.

“Take it off,” he says. I let the garment fall to the floor.

He rolls his chair back and stands. With one foot purposefully in front of the other, he walks around to the edge of the desk and motions to it.

“Take a seat,” he says, his serious expression unwavering.

I have to hop onto the desk, my feet dangling before him. Andrea remains silent, letting Dallas have the reigns.

“I don’t think that you should pass the class without some sort of punishment for failing in the first place.”

Oh. God.

My eyes widen. “What kind of punishment?”

His eyes never leave mine as he places his hand on his belt buckle and begins to unfasten it.

Britain giggles.

“I hate you, Britain,” I breathe.

“Stay in character,” she barks, continuing to snap photos.

When Dallas slides his belt off, he orders, “Raise your arms over your head.”

“What are you going to do?” I whisper.

He only responds with darkening eyes that send a shiver through my whole body. Biting my bottom lip, I raise my arms over my head.

Gripping the bottom hem of my cami, he peels it upward and over my head, revealing my lace, pushup bra. For a second, his eyes flicker to my chest to drink in the sight of me.

Warmth races to the inside of my thighs, and I squeeze them together.

I make to lower my arms. His hand shoots out and grabs my wrist, gripping me tightly.

“Did I say that you could put your hands down?”

“No, sir.”

Dammit, I wish this was real. I wish Britain and Andrea weren’t here and Dallas was role-playing this scenario with me solely for the sake of turning me on.

Because I am
oh
so turned on.

“Keep your wrists pressed together.”

I comply as he takes his belt and wraps it around my wrists, looping and fastening it so I am all tied up.

“Lie back,” he instructs.

As soon as I do so, keeping my arms raised above my head, he places his index finger on the center of my lower lip, pushing forward slightly until I taste him. Then, he drags his finger down my chin, my neck, and between the valley of my breasts. When he reaches my navel I buck my hips up, and he flattens my palm against my belly and pushes me back down. “You don’t move until I say you can move. Understand?”

“Yes, sir.” I try to speak clearly but end up more in character than I mean to be when my words escape me in a whimper.

Dallas notices. I can tell by the way his lip twitches. Hooking his fingers beneath the hem of my jeans, he leans forward until his lips brush against my ear. “Are you as turned on as I am?”

A small gasp escapes me, but I don’t have time to respond before Andrea instructs Dallas to take off my pants.

Dallas

I order Evan to lift her hips so I can tug her jeans off. They land on the floor. My hands find her upper thighs and I squeeze. “Don’t move unless I move you.”

She squeezes her eyes shut and nods furiously. My dick is growing harder with every passing second.

I ease her legs apart and bite back my groan. I can tell how wet she is from here. If we were alone—if I was single—I wouldn’t be able to contain myself. I’d rip those lace panties right off of her and lick right up her center.

Fuck
.

Her perfect tits rise and fall as she breathes shallowly.

I realize Britain’s trying to instruct me.

“Jesus, Dallas. Yes, we all know Rylan’s hot, now shut your jaw and stay in control.”

I yank my mouth shut and take a deep breath through my nose. Remain in control.
Remain in control
.

“Tie up her feet,” says Andrea.

Tie up her feet? “With what?”

I look over at Andrea, and she nods toward my chest.

Of course, idiot.

I push Evan’s knees together and reach up, undoing the knot of my tie as quickly as possible. Evan whimpers again, a noise I wish she’s stop making because I’m starting to lose my mind. When the tie is free from my neck, I wrap the fabric into a knot around her ankles. Her toes curl, and I pinch the big one on her left foot. She gasps.

“Don’t move,” I growl, more so out of my sexual frustration than anything else, “or this punishment will be much worse for you.”

When I meet her eyes, she’s giving me a strange look, as though she’s thinking hard about something.

And then she curls her toes again.

I don’t take the time to second guess my actions, my hands scooping up her back and legs. I flip her over to her stomach and she cries out in surprise.

Andrea wolf-whistles. Britain drops her camera. “You okay, Ry?”

“Shut up, Brit,” Evan gasps. “Let the man work.”

“Cup her ass,” says Andrea, and then bend forward, like your whispering into her ear.

I drag my hand up her soft thigh, the perfect globe of her ass fitting right into my hand.

Britain instructs Evan to arch her hips and look at the camera. I lower my head to the ear facing me. When her hair brushes against my lips, something inside me snaps. Dancing with her like this is a slow, torturous death, and I can’t take it anymore. I open my mouth and catch her earlobe, scraping my teeth against her tender flesh. She moans my name softly and I almost lose it right there.

I hear Andrea say, “This would be good for a finale pose.”

Britain’s snapping pictures like crazy. “Agreed,” she finally says, letting the camera drop. “I think that’s a wrap guys.”

I straighten, trying to control my breath.

Britain fans herself with her hand. “Damn, is it hot in here or is it just you two?” She winks at me and Andrea opens the door. The two of them step out of the office to get some fresh air.

“Help,” Evan pleads.

“Oh, shit.” Gently, I unwind the belt from her hands, and she rolls over to her back. Her slate eyes are glassy, her lips are swollen, like we actually just got finished screwing each other. This only turns me on more.

“I can get that,” she says.

“It’s fine.” I work at loosening the knot at her ankles. “It’s the least I can do after that.”

“Dallas Whitley,” she says my name breathlessly, and I glance away from her feet to watch her arch off the desk and stretch her arms out in front of her. Her tan body glistens with the sheen of sweat. “You are so lucky you aren’t single right now.”

My hands freeze on the loosened knot. “Why’s that?”

Without breaking her gaze from me, she says, “Because if you were, after putting me through that little number, I’d
make
you get me off.”

She can’t be serious.

“You can’t be serious.”

She sighs wipes her forehead with the back of my hand, and releases a throaty laugh. “Oh my god,” she says. “I can’t believe I just said that. The heat is making me delirious or something.” She looks down at her feet. “You going to take all day on that knot, or what?”

^^^^

When I’m back at my apartment, I throw my keys on the table and yell Tricia’s name.

I’ve had a raging hard-on since the shoot. I’m sure the girls noticed it, but at this point, I really couldn’t give a fuck.

I just need to get off. I need to get off
now
.

I yell Tricia’s name again before I see her handwritten note on the fridge.

Boss took me to dinner. Back at 11. OXOX

I curse and stalk down the hall, ripping off my shirt before I make it to the bathroom. I think about taking a cold shower, but why torture myself any more than I’ve already been tortured today?

I pull off my slacks and make sure the water is steaming before stepping in. I groan when the burning hot jet engulfs me, and my mind jumps to Evan. Of the way she bought into the charade as soon as I began to touch her. The way she moaned my name. How soaked her panties were.

I take hold of my cock and begin to stroke. In a matter of moments I finally have my release. But even after I’m finished, I can’t get my mind off of her.

But that’s normal. Even when I’m in love, it’s normal to feel this way about a beautiful girl like Evan, right?

She’s just a fantasy. Like if I were to go rent a porno right now while Tricia’s gone and watch it by myself. All guys do shit like that.

It’s just my dick that’s making me feel this way about Evan Cosette. It has to be.

Chapter Seven

Evan

I arch my back off my bed, fingers working furiously at my clit until I feel my third orgasm of the night wash over me. Coming down from my high, I take deep gulps of air and wait to feel satisfied, but satisfaction never comes.

I groan and flip over to my stomach, burying my head beneath my pillow as I wait for my heart to stop hammering in my chest.

It’s normal for any girl to be this turned on by a gorgeous model. Especially a girl who has sworn off guys for a year.

For a whole year, it’s been me and my fingers. Sometimes a vibrator when I feel like using one. I keep telling myself that it’s less emotionally straining than a real live man in my bed, but now I’m starting to question that statement.

I haven’t wanted anyone this bad in a long damn time.

But that’s because you dry hump him for work, dipshit
.

It’s true. It isn’t Dallas Whitley that is turning me on. It is the generic male presence after being so chaste for so long.

It has to be. I can’t be feeling things for Dallas. He’s in grad school in my department and is my coworker. He’s too close to everything important in my life. Everything keeping me afloat.

And he has a girlfriend. I can’t be feeing anything for Dallas because he has a girlfriend.

^^^^

The next morning, things are in serious production mode in the studio. I make my banana protein shake and head over there in my pjs, sitting in the corner as Britain organizes teams of writers, graphic designers, the guy who does our page layout—hell, even the web designer is here. It’s so loud in the studio living room that everyone’s yelling just to be heard, but even in the chaos, Britain still has a huge smile on her face.

She’s gotten pre-production down to a science, that girl. The formatting and layout of the magazine are usually done in one work day, tops. Our rapid momentum is why we’re capable of being bimonthly—well, that and our readers are willing to buy two issues a month. It seems like they can’t quite ever get their skin fix, which works in our favor.

Britain walks over and sits next to me, resting her head on my shoulder.

“You’ve been working really hard on this issue,” I say.

She sighs. “Thanks for noticing, Evan. I need people like you in my life.”

I smile. My favorite thing about Britain and me is that we can be snarky to each other during shoots to let off steam, but that doesn’t ever put a dent in our friendship. Unconventional, yes, but it’s been working out for us.

“Evan—your shoot with Dallas. Jesus, it’s like the two of you are made to pose together. I mean, even though Adam’s and Delilah’s shoots are more risqué, the two of you are making me really hot and bothered.”

I snort. “That’s kind of disturbing.”

“I’m sorry, it’s the truth. Once you forget I’m there, you guys have crazy chemistry.”

“Well, that’s good. At least Dallas is doing what you hired him for.”

“You like him?” she asks.

“Dallas? Well yeah, sure. He knows what he’s doing.”

She giggles. “That’s not what I meant, Evan.”

Oh. She’s asking if I
like him
, like him, as if we’re in high school and we’re talking about the cute band kid with braces. Good grief.

Before I can say anything, one of the writers calls her over to ask her a question, and I’m left alone. I get the hell out of the studio.

Having the pool shoot and the desk shoot under our belts, Dallas and I are set for a while in terms of modeling. Britain wants to debut us with the desk shoot and use the pool shoot for the next issue, when
Rylan
has some fun time with her professor in the gym shower.

Seriously—these shoots are so corny, I won’t be surprised if they flop. If they did flop, I guess Britain would have to fire the boys.

An odd pang of disappointment settles in the pit of my stomach, but it’s quickly replaced by anxiety as I head out toward the mailbox. I haven’t received any letters regarding acceptance from the schools that I applied to for grad programs. Something tells me that news is right around the corner.