Corsets and Crimson Cheeks

Corsets and Crimson Cheeks Tori McCalin

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Copyright © 2011 by Tori McCalan ISBN: 978-1-936751-25-9 Edited by Tere Michaels Cover by Valerie Tibbs All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. First Etopia Press electronic publication: April 2011 http://www.etopia-press.net

~ Dedication ~ To my sweet as sugar husband

Chapter One The skintight Maude La Roma leather corset creaked and groaned as Jeanette shifted from one foot to the other. For the moment she was alone in the small dressing room. Her discomfort had to be obvious, but she knew better than to complain. Bitching and whining would only get her an unsympathetic roll of eyes from the photographer’s assistant, not to mention a reputation for being one of those models. Her palms were sweaty, and she couldn’t stop adjusting her outfit. The photo shoot had an unusually edgy theme—his-and-hers fetish wear, a subject she had no personal knowledge of. In all her ten years climbing the model ranks, she’d never done fetish wear—lingerie, yes; bikinis, yes; but nothing that involved studs. She was amazed to discover she liked the way the stiff leather bodice held her tightly, hugging her hourglass curves and accentuating her trademark tiny waist. The bra cups grazed the tops of her nipples, sending little shocks to her womb and threatening to expose her full, firm breasts if she dared to move too quickly. She felt absolutely delectable in her three-inch heels and experienced a perverse rush from the studded leather dog collar at her throat. Apparently, she had an unexplored naughty side.

A door thudded closed somewhere in the building, and she stole a timid glance over her shoulder. Sure, she felt kinky—she just didn’t want everyone to know it. Then again, she told herself, sex sells. Maybe hot and bothered was the exact look they were going for. Unfortunately, her quivering nerves weren’t. This was her make-it-or-break-it shoot—a cover and feature article in one of the world’s top fashion magazines, shot by the world-renowned photographer, Julian Hawthorne. Everyone had a horror story about him: he was miserable, picky, stern, a tyrant and an ogre and a perfectionist. But a photo shoot with Julian Hawthorne could make a model’s career. Unless the model completely screwed it up. The skimpy bondage outfit was beginning to chafe her inner thighs from the moisture that had pooled between her legs. Or maybe that was from thinking about the man she’d be posing with. Dallas Martinez, the sexiest man in modeling and her long-time crush. One thing she knew—if she screwed this up, she’d be making an ass of herself in front of all the wrong people. Best known for his sidelong glance and pretty face, Dallas Martinez was a tall drink of water. With a body as sculpted as a sleek sports car, and a head of perfectly groomed hair that most women envied, he was also currently the man in charge of her steamy dreams. When she’d heard she would be

working along side her long-time crush, she’d nearly fainted. In an instant her mind conjured up the many ways in which she could make a fool out of herself, and for the first time in her career, she felt as though she was in over her head. After all, it had been a year since her last serious boyfriend. Other than a handful of first date flops, Jeanette felt out of practice when it came to romance. What she should be worried about was Julian Hawthorne, she scolded herself. Julian’s assistant, Delia, poked her nose into the fitting room and motioned for Jeanette to follow. Allowing one more indulgent adjustment to her bustline, she took a deep breath and stepped out under the bright lights. There, in the middle of the set, stood Dallas Martinez, wearing nothing but black Maude La Roma leather breeches, a thin black armband, and an armful of wash-off tattoos. He looked like a slender version of Conan the Barbarian and absolutely delicious as the Dominant for Maude La Roma Fetish Wear. He turned his handsome face as she approached, and his deep blue eyes widened at the sight of her. Her heart skipped a beat, and she feared she might perspire to the point where she shot like a bullet out of her skintight suit.

Calm down, calm down. You’re used to prancing about in front of total strangers wearing next to nothing; you’ve just never done it in front of the person who makes you swoon.

Although they’d attended the same parties, social events, and even some of the same gigs, they’d never been introduced. As far as she knew, he was oblivious of her crush on him, but guessing by the stunned expression on his face, for better or worse, she was making a hell of an impression. Dallas seemed to recover from his shock and even managed a half-hearted smile. The effect was debilitating. At the sight of his straight white teeth and the little dimple on his left cheek, her mouth dropped open, and she nearly swooned like some dumb fairytale princess. For once in her life, reality seemed better than her fantasies. Someone cleared their throat, and she became uncomfortably aware of the rest of the people in the room. Her skin heated at the realization that she’d been gawking at a male model like some lovestruck groupie. Feeling all eyes upon her, she dared to look in the direction of the darkened studio. Looking directly at the photographer was something most models avoided, and she regretted her action the second she laid eyes on the tyrant she’d entrusted with her career. Julian Hawthorne lifted his face from the lens of his camera, and eyes the color of molasses bored into her with an introspective scrutiny. His tanned head, free of any hair, gleamed under the overhead light, as though to make the bold statement, This is

who I am. Deal with it.

Long, dark eyelashes softened an otherwise chiseled expression, and she was struck by the

intensity of his gaze. She’d never set eyes on the man before, not even in a photograph, and to say she was pleasantly surprised would be an understatement. Normally, bald men never got a second glance from her, but he wore it well. His reputation had depicted him as a giant, a man who towered over feebleminded neophytes. He looked like any other guy to her—average height, two eyes, a nose, and a mouth, but perfectly positioned across his face to create an unexpectedly striking look. He wore casual clothes—blue jeans that pulled tight across his muscular thighs and a trim, simple white T-shirt that showed off firm pecs and a tight abdomen. The clothes gave him a youthful appearance, and she had a hard time guessing his age. There was no beating around the bush—Julian Hawthorne was stunning. But it was more than just his rugged good looks. He exuded confidence. Clearly, he was the one in charge. It was in the way he held his body and in the way he boldly met her gaze. He made the rules, that much was clear, and going by the mischievous glint in his eye, she could only assume he broke them, too. The fact that his stern jaw hosted a five o’clock shadow confirmed her impression. No doubt social etiquette didn’t apply to him. Personally, she thought disheveled had never looked so delectable, and she felt a tightening deep down to her core in response. The slightest crinkling at the corner of his eyes told her time had stretched on, and she was staring like a greenhorn for the second time in a matter of

minutes. Butterflies formed in the pit of her belly, a response she hadn’t experienced since her first few modeling gigs. I’m not green, she reminded herself, but she had yet to prove that to Mr. Hawthorne. Too bad he was supposed to be such an ogre. Composing herself, she forced her attention back to Dallas and was surprised to discover he had come to stand next to her. She swallowed hard and concentrated on breathing normally. One clingy fetish suit and two powerful hunks had thrown her libido into overdrive. “Okay, Jeanette.” Julian’s British baritone voice cut through her, and she snapped her head back to look at him. She nearly whimpered out loud. Oh, God, she had forgotten he had an accent! “This is a spanking scene,” he continued as she struggled to master herself. “We’ll have you bent over that weight lifting bench, length-wise, and do it pronto!” He pointed to the prop in the middle of the room, and her pussy flared white-hot at the image of her body lying prone and vulnerable for all eyes to see. Just the thought stirred her growing lust for a man she didn’t dare find sexy. Now is not the time to be thinking with your ovaries, she scolded herself. You have a job to do. Sparing Dallas the briefest glance, she scurried to get into position. The dull, red vinyl seat of the bench felt cold against her hot skin. Gritting her teeth, she forced her body down. The polished leather hugging her body tightened as she bent, straining until the

delicate snaps at her crotch threatened to pop. Without enough slack, the narrow thong running along her crack pulled tight over her clit. Forgetting herself, she uttered an unladylike grunt. “We’ll have no more of that,” Julian reprimanded. “Just be thankful this isn’t a video.” Someone in the back stifled a giggle, and she vowed to seek them out and smack them silly later. Much later, like when she was famous enough to get away with it. She pursed her lips, knowing better than to apologize. To do so would make her look weak. She was not weak—vulnerable, maybe, but she usually found a way to make vulnerable look good. Julian moved on, giving directions with an impatient wave of his hand. People hustled about, doing his bidding. Dallas moved in behind her, and she could feel the heat radiating off him. She wondered if it was a reaction to standing around in leather pants under hot spot lights, or because he too was aroused. She hoped for the latter. “Relax your posture.” Julian broke into her amorous thoughts again. “Remember, you want this as much as he does. Don’t look so stiff.” She loosened her muscles and let her body sag, but she found it difficult when every ounce of her being was primed with lust. “Okay, Dallas, don’t be timid. Move over her and raise your hand as though you are about to strike.” There was a shuffling of feet and creaking of leather, then silence.

“My God,” Julian spluttered. “This isn’t fetish wear for androids, come on, be a man!” She stole a glance at Dallas’s face to find it contorted with fear. A line of sweat beaded his temple, and for some reason, he looked as though he were about to rattle apart. Oh dear, she thought. He’s nervous. Was it her? She began to fret, which didn’t help her own quaking nerves. She had hoped for the suave rogue from the aftershave commercials or the bold swashbuckler from the magazine ads for rum. Dallas just stood there, pale and still. “Jeanette.” Julian’s voice sounded crisp. She froze on the spot. Moving just her eyes, she peered over at her boss. “What on Earth are you doing?” he asked, his smooth features twisted into a pained expression. She realized she had been contorting her own face, willing Dallas to come up with some kind of appropriate response. She corrected her goofy expression. Julian heaved a dramatic sigh. “Maybe we should start by testing the angle. Are we even lined up?” She craned her neck around to see, but only got a face full of Dallas’s groin. It wasn’t entirely unpleasant, but he moved away, all in a twitter. “Oh! For bloody—” She could hear the frustration rising in each of Julian’s words until they choked off entirely. The assistant hurried in to survey the situation, but Julian called her back. “No, not you,”

he scolded. “Dallas, bring your hand down to her bottom.” Dallas’s Adam’s apple jumped, but otherwise he didn’t make a move. She wanted to reassure him she wouldn’t object, but that would have been overstepping her authority big time, and it would be a sure-fire way to lose this chance at her big break. Julian pursed his lips until they formed a narrow line. Even mid-raving fit, the man looked good. Somehow, he made madman work in his favor, she thought, her heart all aflutter. What was wrong with her? She tried to regain control of her runaway thoughts. Perhaps it had been a mistake to go so long without sex. If she made it through this photo shoot, she was going to take care of business, clear her head—get laid, as it were. That decided, she focused her mind on another subject, something less stimulating, such as the fat paycheck she would receive if she could manage to rein in her libido. “If this is out of your comfort zone, you need to tell me now.” Julian’s words echoed off the walls, snapping her attention back to the present. Blinking hard, she turned again to look at Dallas. No one could miss Julian’s underlying threat, and Dallas immediately complied. Moving with extreme caution, he settled his palm down upon her rump. His touch was like a brand, and her body responded immediately. Her blood ran hotter, moisture pooling between her legs, igniting and

deepening her desire. Without intending to, she arched her back and raised her buttocks, much like a cat in heat. Two seconds later she became conscious of what she had done. Frozen in place, she waited for someone to say something, but only silence followed. Finally, she turned to look at Julian to see what was causing the delay. He stood there, an eyebrow arched in mild astonishment. “Been a while, has it?” he sing-songed with a sly smile. Snickering and giggling followed, but she was distracted by the brazen look on his face. If she wasn’t mistaken, there was a twinkle in his eye that promised mischief. Her nipples betrayed her, tightening to pinpricks that defied the pull of her skin-tight suit, and she was struck once again by how fast Julian managed to fire her up. For the second time, she became aware she had held Julian’s gaze too long, and she turned her head away, certain he could see the desire she harbored every time their eyes met. “The angle looks fine.” Delia, the assistant, broke the awkward tension and brought Jeanette back to the present. “Right. Okay, we need to see it in your face, Dallas.” Julian shook his head as if coming out of some spell, and she wondered if perhaps she had the same lust-inducing effect on him.

“Bring us something feral, Dallas, something wicked, sinful even. You’re thinking stern, disciplinarian, but aroused. Perhaps a sly smile might work best, but don’t bother with that sideways thing you do.” Dallas’s smooth brow creased, and she couldn’t tell if he was insulted by Julian’s off-handed manner, or if he was trying to come up with the right face. Either way, he’d mastered “indecisive.” Julian waved his hand at her, urging her to look aroused. Turning her face to the camera, she opened her mouth and squinted her eyes, tossed her hair around, and tucked her chin into her shoulder, all the while believing she had captured the very essence of what Julian wanted. The camera lowered, and Julian brought his face around to look at her. “Are you for real?” The exasperated look in his eyes nearly crushed her. She chewed her bottom lip to keep from protesting. “Come on, people. Surely you’ve had some experience you can draw on? Where’s the passion, the emotion, and the red marks, for that matter?” He wrinkled his nose in confusion. “Her bottom is far too pale. Makeup!” Makeup was a lanky woman dressed in a pink velour body suit. Jeanette had no idea what her real name was, but she was a sorceress with cosmetics. The woman whipped out her kit of color and twirled a blush brush across Jeanette’s sensitive skin. It tickled and tantalized her in a way that had

her squirming in seconds. Gritting her teeth, she fought off the misguided waves of desire that made her want to moan with pleasure. She was so turned on that even the blush brush would do. Thankfully the instrument soon ceased its torment and lifted off her buttocks before she lost control. The moment Makeup was out of range, the camera whirred and clicked. Julian zoomed in on her bottom, took a few snaps, then snorted in disgust. “God, that looks ridiculous.” The camera dropped again and hung useless in his hand. It was plain to see this photo shoot was falling apart. In a few minutes Julian would dismiss everyone—and dismiss Jeanette permanently. She hadn’t been giving Julian what he asked for, allowing herself to be distracted instead. If she wanted to salvage anything from the photo shoot, she had to take a risk. Shaking off the lingering enchantment from the blush brush, she steeled her nerves and took the plunge. “It’s not working because it doesn’t look real.” Her voice echoed off the walls like an alarm. “The only way to make it look real is for it to be real.” Having said her piece, she swallowed thickly and waited for the sky to fall. Staff murmured in hushed voices to one another, undoubtedly predicting her fate, but the only one she cared to hear a response from was Julian Hawthorne. Holding her breath, she watched him and waited.

Finally he moved, and she could see her words had an effect. Raising his head, Julian looked directly at her and she fought the urge to shrink away under the intensity of his fiery gaze. “Are you suggesting we let him actually spank you?” A hint of amusement reached his eyes. She swallowed and, after a moment to think about the impact of what she’d just offered, nodded. A sinister grin spread across Julian’s face, and she knew that was all he needed to recover the project. He’d most likely remember her now, too. Hopefully with fondness.

*** Had he heard her right? Julian almost gave his head a shake, but stopped, realizing Jeanette might mistake his desire to clear his head with a negative reply. No, he wanted what she offered more than anything, even if he wasn’t the one doing the spanking. He stole an envious glance toward Dallas Martinez. Lucky bastard. Just the sight of that luscious bottom pointed to the heavens was having a dramatic effect on Julian’s wardrobe. His jeans were starting to look more and more like a tent. He just hoped it wasn’t too obvious. His thrill in spanking luscious bottoms like Jeanette’s was something he himself didn’t fully

understand. Early on, he’d had partners interested in spanking; at first he was just trying to please them, and then…then he learned to truly enjoy the act of Dominance. It had been a while since he’d laid a firm hand on a woman’s bottom—too long, he mused. Spanking was a sensual act, an expression of trust, skill, and vulnerability that he didn’t take lightly. To his surprise, it had also become one of his biggest turn-ons. That, mixed with the fact that he found Jeanette to be the most desirable woman he’d set eyes on in the last year and a half, was enough to turn him into a jabbering idiot. If he had less of an audience, perhaps he’d break his own personal rule about sleeping with a model and suggest the rest of the crew take five while he and Jeanette brought out the color in her cheeks. He gritted his teeth, fighting his desire. She was perfect. Perfect for this gig, at least. The way she was squeezed into that crimson leather teddy brought a cold sweat to his brow. Her breasts strained against the suit’s seams, billowing out over the top, and her strong leg muscles gave the show’s theme, Tough Love, a whole new meaning. She had a rap sheet a mile long for characteristic personality flaws and an unusual resume to back it up. He’d known that going in. In fact, it was one of the reasons he’d hired her. What he hadn’t expected was for her to be so bold, so daring as to take charge of both the photo shoot and his raging libido.

Perhaps he could have both—a successful photo shoot and a date with Jeanette Feaviour, he thought and smiled. A little voyeurism didn’t hurt anyone. He could just watch for now. And maybe after the shoot he’d see if she was up for a little recap. With his interest suddenly rekindled, he breathed a sigh of relief and gave an enthusiastic smack to his thigh. His glee was contagious, and soon the others were smiling and laughing too. Then, just as quickly, he sobered. “There will be paperwork to sign, of course.” Jeanette shook her head. She seemed bolder now that she’d challenged him, shown him she wasn’t a fool like Dallas. “The way I see it,” she said, struggling to keep her voice steady, “you have plenty of witnesses.” He laughed again. “Okay, you heard her, slap that juicy apple.” And he brought the camera up again, preparing for what promised to be a prizewinning shoot.

*** Julian’s ear-to-ear grin was reward enough to answer Jeanette’s nagging doubts. It seemed as though she’d scraped through, yet again, by the skin of her teeth. Now all she had to do was endure a public spanking.

One of these days, she warned herself, you’re gonna open your mouth and really be sorry. At least she had a job, she concluded. There was only one remaining problem—Dallas. She stole a glance up at him and gave the briefest of nods. He swallowed hard, but nodded in return. A second later, Dallas’s hand came down, catching her by surprise, and she yelped loudly despite her bravado. “Oh my God! I’m so sorry,” Dallas said. “Just do it again,” she said through gritted teeth, lest they lose the second chance she’d earned them. Dallas nodded frantically, raised his hand high, and winced as if he were the one about to receive the next blow. She readied herself for impact, but Julian cut in. “You heard her, Dallas, not so tentative. Honestly, you look like a wimp.” Dallas tried again, and then again as the camera whirred and clicked, capturing each eyebulging moment, every poorly laid palm print. “My God, that stings,” Jeanette finally admitted. “I’ll say,” Dallas agreed, but when she turned to look, she found him looking down at his own reddened palm. “That’s because you’re doing it all wrong.” Julian thrust the camera into his assistant’s hands and strode onto the set. The smell of Julian’s cologne washed over her. It had an intoxicating effect, and she found she wanted to bathe in his

essence. He reached her side, and she couldn’t help but notice the big black boots he wore. They stopped next to her three-inch heels, and she was struck by the erotic contrast of their footwear. Heat flared in her sex again, then travelled to her face when she discovered Julian watching her. He spared a wink for her alone, and another surge of blood slammed into her groin. Any man that could make her feel that way without even touching her earned her complete attention. Julian tsk-tsked, looking at her bottom. “Well, at least we’ve achieved a realistic shade of red.” He grinned, then addressed Dallas. “I take it you’ve never done this before?” The younger man looked to the floor and shook his head. It seemed strange to see Dallas Martinez appear so bashful, so insecure. In every image she’d seen of him, he was always depicted as an aggressive, manly man. Apparently that didn’t translate into his wanting to spank her. “Lucky for you, I know a thing or two about it. If I could step in for just a moment?” Julian moved in behind her, and Dallas had no choice but to move out of the way. Julian addressed Jeanette, his eyebrows arched and his voice light. “May I?” He held his palm up. Her mouth went dry, but she closed her eyes and nodded. His fingers dug into her buttocks as he corrected her position. “You need to do it in a way that allows for pleasure, Dallas.”

She exhaled loudly as he raked the tender places where Dallas’s hand had struck, surprised by the waves of pleasure that washed over her. Julian knew exactly what points to press to gain a positive response, and he was pressing them now. As though prepping the area, he spread her cheeks and rolled them in wide circles, then smoothed the skin back down. Just as she had begun to relax, the first slap took her by surprise, and she garbled like a clogged drain. Julian gave a gentle laugh, and his hand petted her back with soft, downward strokes. “There, there, it will subside in a moment.” And he was right. It had stung at first, but the pain dissipated quickly. In fact, it was minimal compared to the inexperienced slaps Dallas had administered. Jeanette met Julian’s sultry gaze. Raw, masculine prowess radiated from his brilliant smile. “Ready?” he asked, and she tensed once again. When the next slap came, she dug her nails into the bench cushion, tearing little holes in the padding, but her reaction had nothing to do with pain. All she could think about was the erotic situation she was in—scantily dressed, the sexual subject of two handsome men, and being thrashed into a euphoric frenzy in front of an audience. She dimly heard Julian talking to Dallas as she struggled to stay grounded. All her body wanted to do was float away on a cloud of bliss.

“You see, Dallas?” she heard Julian say. “I rarely strike the same place twice.” An open-handed slap struck the side of one cheek while another caught her underneath, on the fleshy part of the lobe. Her abdomen tightened with her building desire as the impact of each blow brought up another level of yearning. Another slap wrenched a poorly muffled whimper from her, and Julian dipped his head down to look into her face. “Still good?” She bit her lip and nodded, ashamed to admit she was enjoying every second of it. He grinned. “Didn’t know you had it in you, did you?” She just blinked at him, too astonished to come up with anything intelligible. “You’re a natural, Jeanette, taking it like a pro,” he said, his excitement shining in his eyes. “I’m impressed.” I’ll say you’re impressed, she thought, and her pussy throbbed in response as she inspected the bulge at his groin. He glanced down, and one dark eyebrow rose. “Are you good for a little more?” How could she disappoint a man so charming? “Please,” she said with a sly smile all her own. Julian’s teeth flashed white with a sexy grin, and she felt his fingers fan across her tender flesh in a gesture so light she wondered if he’d started to hesitate. His caress might have been mistaken for concern if the next strike hadn’t followed so soon

after. She struggled to stifle her screech of delight and shamelessly leaned back for more, but the next wallop didn’t come. Concerned, she turned to see what the hold-up was. A mere hint of apprehension flashed across Julian’s flushed features. “I’m sorry,” he said, the color darkening in his cheeks. “I’m getting carried away, here.” He tugged at his collar, and she could only assume he would have liked to do more, much more. The thought sent a swarm of butterflies straight to her belly. “Back to business.” He turned to Dallas. “Think you can handle it now?” Still appearing distraught, Dallas nodded and took Julian’s place. Jeanette’s heart sank. It didn’t look right with Dallas standing there, especially the way he was wincing. Julian walked away and returned to his post behind the camera. Her disappointment disturbed her. She longed to call Julian back, to beg him to keep going, but she couldn’t. That would be ridiculous, especially with everybody watching. Resigning herself to her fate, she reminded herself this was a job, and a job well done. Dallas’s hand came down, and she fought the urge to roll her eyes. The pleasure Dallas wrought was nothing in comparison to Julian’s talented hands, but thanks to Julian, she at least knew what face to fake. Dallas’ jaw was set in a grim line now. She could

see he wasn’t enjoying the task set before him, but at least he looked good doing it. For a moment she caught a glimpse of the man she’d fantasized about in the glossy magazines, and she wondered what scenarios he was picturing in order to pull this stunt off. Each swat resonated within her trembling form, and she struggled to hold on to the pleasure she had felt when it was Julian’s hand on her. He had impressed her with his passion and his control. It was as though he took what he did seriously, lovingly, and with a purpose. They had made an unexpected connection, all through the talented way his hand had landed upon her bottom. She would never have guessed there was a difference between being spanked and being spanked well. One way made her flinch while the other made her wet. She knew if she kept thinking along that path, she’d lose the mood, and it would show on her face. Instead, she let the whirr of the camera be her guide. She thought of the impressive bulge at Julian’s groin, let it fill her mind with images of his hands thrashing her bottom rather than Dallas’s. Soon, it no longer felt as though she were just going through the motions. With her mouth open and her cheek pressed into the seat, she offered herself up for more, putting on a believable performance in hopes Julian was getting off on it too. Eventually she had to lower her body down upon the bench. Her arms had begun to quiver both from being in the same position for so long, as well

from needing to brace herself against Dallas’ onslaught. Before she knew it, time had soared by, and she was surprised to hear Julian call it a wrap. She wanted to protest, to demand that the session go on. She was so aroused even Dallas’s clumsy swats had started to feel good, but Julian seemed satisfied with the images he’d taken. There was nothing she could do but lie there, breathless and visibly turned on. People shuffled about, gathering their gear, some glancing her way with a mixture of curiosity and sympathy. Unsurprisingly, Dallas was the first one off the set. She doubted he was in such a hurry because he needed to jerk off. Spanking clearly wasn’t his thing. In fact, it was pretty clear the entire shoot had disturbed him. To her dismay, the assistant headed in her direction, a soft, terrycloth towel held out, ready to cover her shameful state. Jeanette just moaned, not wanting any part of it. “Give her a moment to compose herself,” Julian told the assistant. “I’ll take care of it.” He shooed her away. Only when the door clicked shut behind her did he appear to relax. Julian picked the towel up off the floor from where the assistant had dropped it and came to squat by Jeanette’s head. She breathed an uninhibited sigh, inhaling his masculine cologne. His mouth curved into a tender smile, and he used the towel to dab gently at her forehead. It

amazed her to see him so open, so considerate and subservient. He was full of surprises. Julian set the towel aside, then laid a gentle hand between her shoulder blades. The slight contact was enough to reawaken the lust that Dallas had almost beaten into extinction. She gave a wanton moan and raised her hips higher. Julian’s eyebrows arched, “You’re in deep, aren’t you?” he said, as though he were about to reveal the truth about a conspiracy rather than her obvious state of arousal. She managed to nod, and he chuckled. “Is there someone I should call to come and get you? A boyfriend, perhaps?” She blushed and smiled, but was still unwilling to move. “We both know it’s been a while for me.” “I’d like to think it’s more than that.” His eyes widened the moment the words were out of his mouth, as if he’d said more than he’d intended. “I believe I’m evidence of that.” She regarded him through her lashes, hoping he’d appreciate her boldness. To her relief, he nodded. “Something like this will change your whole perspective.” His gaze swept over the curve of her bare shoulder. “Sex might never be the same. Trust me, I know.” He stood then and held out his hand. “Here, let me help you up. Your muscles must be aching.” He looked slightly abashed. “I dare say you saved the photo shoot—above and beyond and all that. The least I can do is help you to your dressing room.”

Jeanette stared at his hand as if it were covered in prickles. “No.” “No?” He blinked, and if she hadn’t been so keyed up, she might have giggled. Clearly she’d confused him. “I couldn’t possibly want anything less.” She was no longer concerned about salvaging her dignity. All she could think about was the present, with his body so close. Her hips were surprisingly fine resting against the bench. She would happily endure more time there if she could have more of Julian. “What do you need, then? Name it.” “I want you to finish what you started.” A quizzical frown marred his brow, and he bent to her level once again. “Now, you know I can’t do that.” He glanced behind them, no doubt to be certain everyone had gone. She knew she was asking a lot. She’d put him in an awkward situation, one that could threaten his career, but it was all she could think about—his hands on her, the fiery glow they brought to her skin. “Yes,” she admitted, keeping her tone cool. “And I commend you for having morals, but I’m giving you permission—begging you, even.” He laughed nervously. “You aren’t thinking clearly. It would be unfair. I’d be taking advantage.” She rolled her eyes, impatient. “Now is not the time to get noble. I took this job knowing there would be risks. I just didn’t expect a simple

spanking would do this to me. But now I need a fuck—a good, long, hard fuck from a man who turns me on and who knows what he’s doing, and clearly, you do.” She could see that her forwardness had surprised him, but not in a way that repulsed him. “I’m flattered, really.” But even as he protested, she saw how his eyes roved over her mottled haunch. When his gaze settled on her face again, his eyes were half lidded, heavy with desire. His hard angles had been softened, yet his powerful presence still overwhelmed her. She longed to tell him she found him very beautiful. He caught his upper lip between his teeth and nibbled it, then finally fixed her with a devilish smile. “It’s raw, isn’t it?” She wasn’t sure if he was referring to her spanked bottom or the act that had made it that way, but she swallowed and nodded. “Just do it again,” she pleaded. “I want to feel it done right, the way you do it.” His tongue flicked over his lip as he considered her offer, and just when she thought he was about to refuse, he reached out with one hand and touched the back of her thigh. She gasped at his touch, and then let out a long, contented sigh. His eyes stared at the spot where his hand cupped her leg, and he looked as though he expected it to catch on fire. She pressed her leg against his palm, encouraging him to take it further. To her relief, he finally began to caress her leg.

“You need to know this isn’t usual for me. Seducing a model, that is.” His voice sounded distant, dreamy. “I gave that up years ago.” How endearing, she thought, that he felt the need to tell her that. “They call me the Ogre because I don’t take their crap,” he said as he continued to explore the length of her leg, his fingertips dragging so lightly across her skin that she had trouble concentrating on his words. “I’m not an ogre. I just appreciate people who live in reality, who can handle criticism, and who work with me. You certainly showed me you can do that.” As much as she appreciated his reassurances, she wanted action more. She wanted him to pull the snaps open on her suit and to feel him penetrate her hot inner core. “Mmm-hmm.” She moaned, greedy with desire. All her attention was focused on his strong hand stroking her inner thigh. His hand travelled higher, reaching a tender place just below her left cheek where he tentatively squeezed the inflamed flesh. She moaned and began to squirm, and immediately he snatched his hand away. “Sh!” he hissed but his eyes were bright with mischief. “If you keep that up, they’ll hear.” She caught her lip between her teeth but couldn’t stifle the giggle that managed to erupt from her. “A part of me doesn’t even care. I mean, that’s half the reason this is such a turn on. Like

you said, it’s real. You’re a dominant man, in a place of power over me, and I’m lying here helpless, half clothed, and vulnerable.” She stole a glance down at the tell-tale bulge in his pants and was relieved to see he was just as aroused by the opportunity of their predicament as she was. “Oh, you’re very naughty, aren’t you?” His eyes lit up with new understanding, and his mouth curved up in a salacious smile. “The moment I saw your portfolio, I knew you were different, special.” His tongue swept across his upper lip again. “I wanted you for your curves, knowing they’d show off Maude’s line better than some beanpole of a woman, but I had no idea you came with such a delightful personality as well.” The butterflies in her belly returned upon hearing his praise. It wasn’t often someone in the modeling agency commended her for her looks, or her attitude. Most often they told her to eat less, and to let them do all the talking. “My condo isn’t far from here,” he said with an anxious glance over his shoulder. “Perhaps we should consider continuing this where we have more privacy, and where we can take our time?” “Not a chance,” she answered quickly. “This is the real thing—a once in a lifetime opportunity. I don’t want to lose the moment. I want to feel you take advantage, every thick, pulsating inch of you. And I want it rough.” A low growl rumbled in his chest. “Well, if that’s what you want…” In an instant his hand was back on her bottom, and this time there wasn’t

anything cautious about his actions. He squeezed hard, making her bottom sting and her eyes water, yet nothing had ever felt so good. With two hands cupping both tender cheeks, he kneaded and pinched his way up to her waist, then wrapped his firm hands around her middle. The embrace was possessive, sensual, primal, even, awakening an archaic compulsion in her to open herself up, to let him lay claim to her, to plunder and pleasure her. Despite the strain on her arms, she lifted herself, encouraging him to explore her a little more. Heat radiated off of his chest as he bent low and hovered over her. She felt his hard cock beneath his fly press into the groove of her ass as he held her in place, sliding his full length up and down her leather-covered cleft. The floodgates opened, and her pussy watered at the mere suggestion of sex. “Mmm,” he purred. His fingers traced the contours of her body, exploring the flat planes of her abdomen and the mountainous embankment of her sheathed breasts. When his feathery touch brushed her prominent nipples, she uttered a sound that was a cross between a moan and a cry and jutted her bottom harder against his pumping shaft. In one mighty pull he hauled her bodice down, forcing her breasts into the cool air. She gasped, her pussy tightening from the thrill.

He leaned heavily across her back, his other hand sliding along her stomach to her breasts where he caught one swinging nipple. “There is no doubt in my mind now that you like this,” his husky voice rasped in her ear as he tugged on one taut bud. “But how far do you want this fantasy to go?” Her mouth opened involuntarily, and she relished the blissful agony as he cradled her breast. She struggled to gather her wits enough to answer him. “I want you to find something to tie me up with. Then I want you to stand in front of me, with your cock out, and I want you to tell me to suck it.” Her pussy pulsed at her brazen words. Julian’s eyes glazed over with lust, and it took him a moment to move. “Are you sure you want me to tie you up?” he asked. “Believe me, I’ll tell you when I want you to untie me.” He let her breasts go, and she felt his body lift off of her back. Without another word he walked over to the door, locking it before he went to the props trunk where he retrieved a few ties, and then returned to her side. He bound her ankles and wrists to the metal legs of the bench with such precision she had to assume he’d tied a lover up before. She was aware of every whispery touch as the silk fabric grazed the insides of her wrists, and she felt another rush of adrenaline when he cinched it in tight. Then, with a show of even more

considerate thought, he wedged the towel beneath her torso, taking the strain off her arms. Instantly she felt better. Then Julian stood back to admire his handiwork. Another thrill washed through her under his keen inspection. She marveled at how good it felt to be held motionless, her body stretched along the length of the bench. Her nipples grazed the cool leather seat, and there was nothing she could do about it except grow more aroused. As she had requested, Julian brought his hips between the metal posts. Heat flooded her pussy as he slowly peeled the zipper down on his faded designer jeans and then pulled his beautiful cock out into the light. Thick with blood, it was a deep shade of red, with the skin so tight across the flanged head, it shone under the light. He was a healthy handful, circumcised, long, thick, and hard as an anvil. Her mouth watered at the thought of it thrust deep inside her mouth. His chest rose and fell rapidly, in contrast to the slow, measured strokes with which he caressed his cock. He kept his eyes locked on hers the entire time, and she was reminded again of a time when sex was much more forward and uninhibited. Julian was the ultimate male, full of masculine prowess, and seemed determined to slake his lust with her. Being out of control made the act more pleasurable, and soon her thighs were coated in her own juices. The longing that had formed in her belly had become a pleasant ache, building rapidly

into something more. Many sexual scenarios raced through her mind, starring herself as the prisoner, the captive, and the submissive. She’d always denounced role-playing games as degrading, but she felt nothing but benevolence from Julian. Then she noticed he hadn’t moved. His face seemed caught between horror and confusion, and his mood had cooled considerably. “I don’t suppose you have a condom stashed away in that outfit of yours, do you?” he asked, grimacing. Her gasp was answer enough. He heaved a disappointed sigh and closed his eyes. Not a good sign, she thought. What if he suggested they just go home? Her body screamed.

*** Wracking his brain for ideas, Julian struggled to concentrate despite his raging libido. The last thing he wanted was to stop, but there was no way he could continue without protection. As much as he’d like to give in and slide his cock between Jeanette’s sweet lips, he just couldn’t. The only thing left to do was pack up their kinky little party and hope to pick up where they left off. He had opened his mouth to speak when Jeanette cut him off.

“What about that purse over there?” She nodded to a far corner of the room, where a dark purple lump sat on the floor by the main camera stand. A wave of giddiness and hope washed over him. “That’s Delia’s. Good eye,” he said and hurried over. Without giving too much thought to private property or any other moral obligation, he unzipped the handbag and rummaged around until his fingers found the tell-tale crinkly surface of a condom wrapper. Beaming with pride, he held it up to show her. “Ribbed and mint-flavored. Oh, Delia, thank you for being such a naughty girl.” He kissed the packet, making Jeanette laugh. He hurried back and stopped short at the sight of Jeanette’s perfect bottom, its reddened cheeks leading down to the delicate folds in which he longed to bury his shaft. He steadied himself with a deep breath, hardly able to believe everything that had already happened.

Chapter Two He moved to stand in front of her again and slid the mint-flavored condom over his shaft. Whether he’d decided he was ready, or that she’d admired him long enough, he brought the velvety soft head of his cock to her mouth and brushed it against her lips. Then, in a deep voice thickened with lust, he commanded, “Suck my cock, Jeanette.” A tremor rippled through her. This was what she wanted, to have him make demands on her, much as he had earlier when he spanked her. She wanted him at the edge of his desire, dominant and impatient to have her. Jeanette looked up at him, widening her lips to allow his smooth, warm flesh to enter her mouth. He shuddered with delight and breathed a contented sigh. For a moment, she toyed with the little hole in the end with the tip of her tongue as much as the condom would allow. He uttered a soft grunt and pushed in a little farther. He brought his hands down into the metal brackets, meant to support a barbell, and gripped them tight. His eyes locked on her face and he smiled. He began to rock his hips in small, gentle movements, and she opened wider for him. She gradually granted him access, teasing him and making him work for it. His sac drew tight

with each new thrill she gave him, driving his desire to greater heights. Moving his hands to either side of her face, he increased the length of his thrusts, coaxing her mouth to accept his entire shaft. He pulled all the way out, then smoothly slid all the way back in, and it was everything she could do to keep her balance, tied up as she was. Her body rocked along with each penetrating thrust of his cock, while the seam of the leather thong dug in, creating a pleasant friction against her labia. She angled her hips to catch the fabric just right, welcoming the invasion. Julian reached over her and grabbed the back of the leather bodice with both hands. He pulled the leather forward, much as he would a pair of reins, increasing the pressure. She moaned in satisfaction as his rigid flesh reached the back of her throat. Eventually, he slowed his pace and came to a stop. “Had enough?” He pulled out, and her gaze fell to his glistening cock. She looked up into his gentle, laughing eyes and licked her lips. “Never.” “Somehow I believe that. I bet you’d let me do anything to you like this.” His voice had hardened but remained playful and steady. She groaned with pleasure. “Oh, yes, you certainly could.” “And you’d like that?” He jerked the thong ever so slightly. Jeanette gasped at the reminder of the power he held over her.

“Yes,” she admitted after a short time. “Amazing,” he said, with a chuckle. She stared up into his beautiful face, lips parted again, eager for his cock, but it was his turn to tease her now. He held back just far enough and watched her strain to reach him. “You’re a wicked man, Julian Hawthorne,” she whispered. “Oh, baby, you haven’t experienced anything yet.”

*** Julian’s sultry words sent a ripple of pleasure echoing through her. The twinkle in his eye changed from passion to mischief, and she couldn’t wait to discover what he had in store for her next. He promised to be a clever and thorough lover. He walked around the bench and came to stand behind her. His hips pressed against her raised bottom, and she could feel his hard cock against her throbbing labia. Her flesh tingled at his mere presence. He lingered there, driving her wild by making her wait. Just when she feared he was going to take it easy on her, he pulled the leather strip tight once again. She didn’t have a choice but to raise her hips to lessen the pressure he placed on her clit.

A muffled whimper escaped her lips as his merciless fingers began to work once again. When he pulled his hand away she realized he’d parted and trapped her pussy lips beneath the leather panty, spreading them wide until the thong was snug against her clit. The thought of how open she was to him nearly drove her over the edge. Her pussy pulsed with need, but she longed to feel his hard shaft pushing into her, filling her up. “Do you want it hard, or soft?” As though to punctuate his question he arched his hips and sent his cock bearing down on her further. “Hard, you fool,” she groaned, impatient. He chuckled and lifted off of her. “Captivity makes you bold.” He gave her bottom a light, testing slap. Heat flared between her thighs until she could sense her heartbeat against the leather. She gasped. “That was very nice, but not exactly what I meant.” “I know what you want, Jeanette,” he purred, “but I think you’ll like this too.” His hands came down on her bottom again, light at first, then with more force, mixing the pleasure and the pain. A tidal wave of desire, already building, swelled to overload, but she fought it back, determined to feel her next orgasm with him inside her. She lay there with her cheek pressed into the bench, panting, her impending orgasm coiled like a spring inside her, winding tighter.

He muttered words of appraisal as one hand slid over her mound. “Sopping wet,” he said, sounding breathless. His deft fingers pinched her outer lips together, and he began to move the tight strip of leather in a circular motion over her clit. He took his time, applying just the right amount of pressure while she writhed and danced beneath his fingertips. It felt like an eternity before he raised his hand again, but when he finally did, she gritted her teeth, hardly daring to breathe. He brought his hand down with a significant smack. It stung like a hive of bees, but just as before, the pain ebbed into pleasure, and she ground her bottom backward, eager for more. An open-handed slap caught her next, the full impact striking her ensnared sex. She keened at the intensity. Her hips danced to the rhythm he set, her thoughts centered wholly on each downward stroke. The next strike was softer, landing squarely on her clit. She cried out in ecstasy as sexually charged currents ran rampant through her body. Nerve endings tingled, sparked, and pulsated deep within her belly. Before she could prepare herself for it, Jeanette moaned and experienced her first tremors of orgasm. They were brief, but intense, making her mouth go slack and her eyelids flutter. “Oh, Jeanette, you’re driving me wild with lust,” he growled and tore the snaps to the suit open, flipping the leather up onto her lower back. Finally, she thought. But no.

“So lovely. So beautiful,” he whispered in a voice normally reserved for devout worship. His hot breath blew against her bared skin, then his equally fiery tongue began licking at her hot center. Julian, merciless in his pursuit, continued to surprise her. His tongue slurped noisily as his fingers circled her clit in a mixture of urgency and patience, building her up into a fiery inferno. Her inner muscles tightened, and she could feel another orgasm building. She fought the urge to shout out her pleasure. Biting into the soft padding, she came like a tempest, thrashing about and straining for more. “No more, I can’t take it,” she cried out. “I need to feel you inside me.” He answered with a hungry growl, “Oh, honey, I want nothing more than to sink my cock deep into you.” The sharp rasp of his breath was like music to Jeanette’s ears. “I sure hope you’re ready for this, Jeanette,” Julian said, sounding as excited as she felt, “because I’m so ready to go I could—” His words were cut short by a loud, persistent banging against the studio door. Startled, Jeanette twisted painfully against her bonds. “Mr. Hawthorne?” Delia’s voice called from the other side, and the doorknob twisted and rattled with her efforts to get into the room. “Oh, not now! Shit!” Julian cursed. He looked from the door to Jeanette and back to the door. He

scowled, snapped the condom off his erection, and then all but shoved his cock back into his pants. “Of all the worst timing—” A colorful rant spewed forth as he hurried to untie her. As her hands came free, she held her finger to her lips, reminding him to keep his voice down. He smiled guiltily. She sat up and rubbed her wrists, feeling a mixture of mild amusement toward Julian and disappointment that they had been interrupted. Delia’s fists continued to pound, sounding like a gong as they hammered on the door again. “She must be looking for her purse,” Jeanette offered, shrugging as the resonant boom echoed off the high ceiling. “And she won’t quit until she finds a janitor with a key,” Julian growled. “One of these days she’s going to be the death of me.” He glowered at the door as he zipped up his fly and then suddenly turned to face Jeanette, his expression sheepish and full of regret. He cleared his throat and said with a much softer tone, “I suppose this is why they call me an ogre, isn’t it?” She smiled even though her insides radiated with a gnawing ache, complaining about a job left unfinished. “Considering the circumstances, I’m flattered.” “I’ll go out there and deal with it, whatever it is.” He gave his head a shake, as though he expected Delia’s message to be trivial. “Would you reconsider continuing this back at my place?”

Relief flooded through her. “Definitely,” she said, beaming, her giddiness returning, “But only under one condition.” He frowned, his concern clearly visible. “What’s that?” “The leather comes too.” He threw back his head and laughed. “I wouldn’t dare leave it behind,” he said with a wink. “I’ll wait for you in the dressing room, then?” He nodded and kissed the end of her nose, then hurried across the room where he unlocked the door. Flashing her a brief, sinful smile that promised more of the glorious fun they’d begun, he squeezed through the smallest of gaps and quickly shut the door behind him. Jeanette drew in a full breath in an attempt to steady the heavy pounding of her heart. It wasn’t Delia’s loud interruption that had sent it hammering in her chest, but the promise of what was yet to come with Julian. The man had her heart doing back flips.

Chapter Three The moment he was on the other side of the door, Julian ushered Delia as far away as he possibly could. He had to give Jeanette a chance to make a run for the dressing room before Delia entered and caught on to what they had just been up to. With a hand flat on her back, Julian pushed Delia down the nearest hallway. “What on earth could possibly be so important as to nearly give me a heart attack with all that racket?” he asked. “This,” Delia said, thrusting his cell phone into his face. Her expression was grim, but he thought he detected a note of haughtiness in her tone. Julian took the phone from her, his actions gruff with his impatience. Whoever it was had better have a damn good reason for interrupting. “What?” he nearly shouted into the receiver. “My, my, someone’s grumpy.” Maude La Roma’s smoky chuckle sounded across the line. Julian’s anger cooled to a low simmer. With his thoughts full of Jeanette, he’d let his impatience get the better of him and acted rashly. Maude might be the only person he wouldn’t dare tell off. “Hi, Maude, sorry. I’m somewhat preoccupied.” “I should think so, what with my show in Paris right around the corner, and still with no proofs for me to approve,” she snapped right back. “I can’t

afford any bad news right now, Julian. I’ve had distractions of my own to contend with.” He hoped that was where the similarity between them ended. Maude dressed gaudily, covered her many flaws with too much makeup, and said everything at the top of her lungs. He tolerated her, for the time being, and promised himself when this gig was done, he was going to take up nature photography somewhere quiet and secluded. “For example,” Maude continued, “the reason I’m calling is because Skinny Cindy went into the hospital last night for an overdose, or maybe she was undernourished—aw, hell, it might have been asthma. I can’t remember, but whatever the case, my star model is out of commission, and I have to restructure the whole damn show. What I need from you is an extra body. I want someone special, someone memorable. I can’t promise she’ll get a chance, but at this point, who the hell knows?” Julian closed his eyes and forced himself to take a long slow breath. He’d visit the Serengeti, capture lions on film, or maybe chimps in their natural habitat—whatever it was, it wouldn’t involve ever dealing with Maude again. “You must have a list as long as your elbow, Julian. Just send me your favorite.” At the mention of his favorite, he opened his eyes. Jeanette’s beautiful face appeared in his mind. The recent image of her blue eyes looking up at him while her mouth worked him was particularly strong. He pictured her lounging on a

resort beach, wearing a bikini that barely managed to cover her shapely form. Forget photography altogether, he mused. With someone like Jeanette, he could leave it all behind. Never in his life had a woman brought out such an animalistic reaction in him. “Jeanette,” he blurted, coming out of his reverie. “Jeanette Feaviour.” “Fine,” Maude said matter of factly, and he could hear the sound of a pencil scratching against paper on the other end of the line, followed by a long drag on a cigarette. Maude sighed. “I trust you know what you’re doing.” And with that, she hung up. Julian stood there blinking for a moment. Jeanette was going to go to Paris. This was a big break for her, thanks to him. It meant they would be working together even longer, which thrilled him, but it also meant he’d used his status as leverage for a model he intended to sleep with. She hadn’t asked for the favor yet—he’d happily handed her the position because she brought him joy. Now it was time to get back to Jeanette and tell her the good news.

Chapter Four Jeanette listened at the door, and when she didn’t hear any sounds, she slowly turned the knob and opened it just a crack. Eventually, she convinced herself it was safe to make a run for it. Scurrying for all she was worth down the hall, she swung the door open and practically dove into the dressing room. To her surprise, she heard someone cry out. She hadn’t expected the dressing room to be occupied, or that someone would be standing right behind the door. Least expected of all, that particular someone had his lips wrapped around Dallas Martinez’s cock. That someone, a young man Jeanette thought she recognized as Kirk, an upand-coming photographer in Julian’s company, scrambled from where he’d fallen and fled the scene. Dallas’s anguished moans flooded the room. He stood doubled over with his hands pressed against his groin. At first she stood there as well, too stunned to think or move. When Dallas groaned again, she rushed to his side. Her fingers worked to pry his hands away so she could take a look at his injury. “Dallas! Are you okay?” He feebly fought her off. “Go away,” he grunted.

“What happened?” She quit struggling with him long enough to coax him into a chair. He gasped. “You. You are what happened.” “Me?” “He… I… He…” He lifted his head, and she could see the pain etched into his handsome features. “Bit me by accident.” Her hand flew to her mouth. “Oh my. Oh no.” She looked around, desperately trying to think of what to do. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to. I just—” “I know you didn’t.” Dallas spared one hand to point in the direction the biter had fled. “Neither did he, but—” He let his head flop down again. “What is done is done, and now would you just please leave me alone so I can at least try to maintain my dignity? Ow.” She dropped to her knees in front of him. “I can’t leave you here wounded.” With an effort, she pried him up until they both were standing. “I took some nurse training. If you’ll let me have a look, maybe I can help.” She pulled one of his hands away and was shocked at what she saw—a lovely, hard cock with bright red teeth marks marring the sensitive skin midway down the shaft. A trickle of blood told her his partner’s teeth had broken the skin when the door hit him in the ass. “Holy Toledo!” She backed up a step, then regained her composure. Her stomach lurched, and her head spun as she struggled to control her nausea. At least now she knew she’d chosen well when she decided to be a model instead of a nurse.

Get a grip, she told herself. She couldn’t turn her back on him. He needed reassurance now more than anything. “We’d better take you to the hospital.” She thought of Julian then. They’d arranged to meet in the dressing room. “Here,” she said, grabbing a garment off a nearby rack and shoving it into his hands. “Cover up with that. I’ll be right back.” Running on adrenaline, she rushed back into the studio expecting to find Julian, but only Delia was there. The other woman stood over her purse, looking puzzled at its ransacked state. “Excuse me, is Julian—” The assistant pressed a painted fingertip to her lips and scowled. She crossed the room with intimidating speed. “Not so loud! He’s down the hall on a conference call at the moment. Your question will have to wait until the morning.” “No, it can’t. It’s…personal.” “It can’t be more important than what he’s doing right now. Whatever it is will wait.” She turned her back, dismissing Jeanette entirely. Jeanette scowled. “Can you at least relay a message?” Delia turned halfway back and rolled her eyes. “What is it?” “I have to take Dallas to the hospital, but I’ll be back as soon as I can—tell him to wait for me.” The assistant shooed her away like flies off a pie and then shut the door.

Jeanette shook off the brisk treatment and returned to the dressing room where she found Dallas wincing by the back door. Taking a second to grab her coat and purse, she sped off down the hall. “Hang on. I’m coming.” Pulling her keys out of her purse, she rushed to Dallas’s side and ushered him into the parking lot.

*** Julian made sure Delia was out of sight before he went looking for Jeanette. He’d taken longer than he’d said he would, but he hoped she’d think it was worth it. On a lark, he returned to his office to pick up his own camera, thinking they might get a few private sessions in for fun. Carrying his camera low, he tiptoed down the hall that led to the models’ dressing room. Sneaking about gave him a thrill, adding to his already giddy mood, and he owed it all to Jeanette. Until he’d met her, he hadn’t noticed how unhappy and stale his life had become. Well, he decided, seeing the light in the dressing room was on, he wasn’t going to waste any more time. The door was open, but he knocked anyway and called out softly. When no one answered, he went in to confirm the room was empty. Was there another dressing room, he wondered? Had he misheard her when she said she would meet him there? Any

number of explanations for her absence was possible, but he couldn’t fight the feeling of dread that overcame him. A noise came from somewhere deep in the recesses of the building, and his excitement returned. Heading toward the noise, he returned to the studio where Delia still lingered, a rag in one hand, polishing the metal legs of the camera stand before putting them away. He approached slowly, his eyes scanning the room just in case Jeanette hadn’t been able to get out before Delia entered. “Have you seen Jeanette?” Delia looked at him as though he had spoken a foreign language. “You mean that blonde model that got her butt walloped earlier this afternoon?” He thought he could see the hint of a smirk on her lips. “Oh, yes,” Delia continued. “She was in a bit of a tizzy, that one. Got really pushy with me, but don’t they all?” Julian knew Delia had little affection for the models. She’d never bothered to hide her disdain, but he was in no mood to entertain one of her little rants. “You said you saw her—where is she?” “She left ten minutes ago with tall, dark, and handsome.” Alarmed, Julian moved closer. “Who? You mean Dallas Martinez?” “That’s the one. Can’t say I blame her. He’s a real dreamboat.” She actually sighed. Julian stumbled backward as though he’d been pushed. He felt like a large anvil was pressing down on his heart, leaving him out of breath and

confused. What could he expect? He’d just met her. She didn’t owe him anything. He just thought they’d made a connection. Maybe Delia was mistaken. “They left together?” he asked. Seeing something was amiss, Delia nodded, wide-eyed. “She came in here to tell me to tell you she was leaving with Dallas.” If it was physically possible for his heart to shatter, then he was certain that was the sudden pain he felt in his chest. He’d told Maude about Jeanette. He’d been a fool. He’d been played.

Chapter Five Jeanette peered over at Dallas, who sat hunched over on the edge of the gurney. His eyes were closed, and his face remained caught in a continual wince. The small emergency room had been overcrowded with nurses all vying for a chance to work on Dallas Martinez before the doctor came in and shooed them all out. The nurses still loitered in the halls, exchanging gossip and knowing looks. They divided their time by gawking first at her, and then staring at Dallas. She could hear their whispers and knew they were speculating on how he’d been injured and just who was responsible. That didn’t matter, she told herself. He was there, safe, at the hospital. She’d done her duty, and now it was time to go back to Julian where she could stir up her own kind of spectacle. She shifted in her seat, hearing the leather suit beneath her coat creak and groan with every subtle movement, a reminder of what she’d been doing just before she’d caused so much turmoil. Just as she was about to excuse herself, Dallas heaved a weighty sigh. Jeanette grimaced. Maybe she could stay for just a little longer. He was alone, after all, probably scared and needing a friend. The notion that Dallas might think of her as a friend was amusing. Not

more than a few hours ago she would have paid money to be out somewhere with Dallas, just maybe not the hospital. “Does it still really hurt?” she ventured, scooting her chair a little closer. He opened his eyes and seemed a little surprised to see her. A hint of a smile pulled at the corner of his mouth. “Not so much. The pain killers are mild, but they’re really helping.” He shrugged, as though having one’s cock bitten wasn’t such a big deal. “Why so glum, then? Are you worried about what I saw?” When he didn’t respond, she figured she had her answer. “Hey, Dallas, don’t you worry. Your secret is safe with me, and believe me, it certainly helps my ego.” Her chuckle died out when she saw his half-hearted attempt to smile. His spirit just wasn’t in it. “Thanks, but it’s not just that,” he started but cut off short as though he realized again who he was talking to. He gave his head a little shake. “It was just a bad day followed by a terrible evening.” She nodded, remembering how poorly the photo shoot had gone for him, how uncomfortable he’d been with spanking her, and then how she’d crashed his little dressing room party, chasing his boyfriend off. “I think terrible day is an understatement considering the outcome. I mean, it’s not every day you can claim to be the victim of a bite and run.”

Dallas winced again, but this time she knew it was because of her bad joke. She blushed and let her head hang down until the heat receded from her cheeks. “Sorry.” To her surprise she felt the warmth of his hand on her back. He rubbed her shoulder with what she believed to be genuine affection. “Don’t be sorry, Jeanette. After all, you’re here, and that’s more than he can say.” He raised a hand to rub his temples. “I can’t believe he just abandoned me.” Jeanette realized that was her cue to reassure him. “Maybe he was embarrassed,” she offered, smiling brightly. Dallas frowned, seeming irritated now rather than glum. “That might be, but he doesn’t even care enough to stick around to see if I was all right, and that’s a whole other kind of pain.” He edged forward until his feet touched the ground. She could see he was getting ready to leave. She offered him a hand and let him put his weight on her, and together they shuffled out to her car. The drive back to the studio was quiet. Dallas’s gloomy mood threatened to bring her down as well, settling over the car like a stagnant fog. Only the knowledge that Julian was waiting for her inside kept her spirits out of the gutter entirely. Both of them sighed an audible breath of relief when she pulled to a stop alongside his car. “Well, thanks for everything.” Dallas sounded awkward. She figured she made him nervous. His

hand had hovered over the door handle for the last block and a half, so it was no surprise when the door opened and he made as though he were about to hurry away. She frowned with sympathy when he raised off the seat too fast and winced. Moving more carefully, he swung his legs around with a grunt and stepped out of the passenger seat. He surprised her again when he poked his head back in a second later. “You seem like a nice girl, Jeanette, someone who deserves a great guy, and if what I saw sparking between you and Mr. Hawthorne today is anything to go by, I’d say you should follow that up.” With that, he blew her a kiss and crawled into his own car. A broad grin spread across her face. She had been careful not to mention Julian, but it seemed as though the chemistry she had felt between her and her prestigious boss was blatantly apparent. She waited until the car’s taillights disappeared out of sight before she walked up to the studio door. A few dim streetlights lit her way. It was later than she’d realized. Night had fallen in the time she’d been gone. Taking a deep breath, she steadied herself, hoping Julian wouldn’t think she was too big of a fool when she rushed into his arms. She pulled on the handle and was surprised to find it locked. Looking around, she noticed all the lights were off inside the building, and her car was the only one in the lot.

Feeling desperation take over, she reached into her purse and pulled out her phone. She dialed the number to the studio, then let it ring until the answering machine picked up. Delia’s voice echoed through the speakers. Jeanette hung up. She didn’t have any other number to reach Julian. Her heart slammed in her chest. He wouldn’t have gone home without her, would he? She’d left him a message saying she’d be right back—had even mentioned where she was going. Perhaps she’d given him just long enough to come to his senses. After all, she was a model, and he was her boss. Had she overstepped a boundary? Had he simply found another model to spank at home? Or maybe she wasn’t worth waiting for. Snap out of it! She frowned. There had to be a reasonable explanation. He had access to her file, and therefore access to her phone number. Perhaps he’d left her a message on her number at home. Satisfied she had her answer, she raced back to her car and nearly drove over the curb in her haste to reach her apartment. She threw her keys on the table by the door and peered across the dark room in despair at the absence of a blinking red light on her answering machine. He hadn’t called. Jeanette crawled into bed, mindful to lay on her front, her stinging bottom a painful reminder of what she was missing.

Chapter Six Jeanette awoke to the chirpy ringing of her phone. Groaning, she rolled over to look at her alarm clock before answering and hissed as the cheeks of her ass brushed against the sheets. With all the worrying over Julian, and the fact that her body was still humming as a result of their unfinished business, she had barely slept a wink. She groaned even louder when she saw it was only seven o’clock. She grabbed up the phone and unleashed her grumpy mood on the person on the other end of the line. “For crying out loud, what?” she snarled. “Jeanette?” A masculine voice came over the line. She sat up in bed. It didn’t sound like Julian, but she couldn’t be sure. He was about the only person she wouldn’t kill for waking her up at that moment. Her heart rate went up two notches just thinking of the possibility. “Jeanette Feaviour? Do I have the right number?” Disappointment crushed any hope she had. Although the voice on the other end was deep and smooth, it lacked Julian’s signature accent. “Yes,” she said, not bothering to hide her displeasure.

“It’s Dallas. Have you by any chance read the papers?” His hesitant speech set the hairs on her arms standing up. “No,” she answered with heavy skepticism. He made a hissing sound as though he had sucked air in through his teeth. “Um, you’re going to want to take a look, and before you do, if I could just say I’m really sorry.” She felt the last of her grogginess evaporate. She gripped the receiver tighter. “Sorry? Sorry for what?” “It’s not a reputable paper, but all the same…” Now the hairs on her neck were standing up. “Dallas, you’re scaring me.” “Probably not as much as I’m about to.” Her mind raced ahead, trying to make a connection between her and Dallas where she might be in trouble, embarrassed, or—she swallowed—fired. A frightening thought of her actions in a studio that still contained camera equipment froze the blood in her veins. “You remember how you promised you’d keep my secret?” Dallas continued. Jeanette struggled to concentrate. “Blowjob in the dressing room? Yeah…” “Actually, it’s not so much that as who was delivering it.” “Just get to the point, Dallas. You’re killing me here,” she snapped. “My folks don’t know what kind of gig this was, nor that I’m… I’m gay,” he continued, seemingly unaware of her own turmoil. “In fact, they think

I’m advertising jeans, not fetish wear and alcohol. I come from a backward, closed-minded place.” She rolled her eyes, grateful he couldn’t see her. “How bad is it?” “They’re nice people and all, it’s just—” “The article, I mean.” “Like I said, it’s not a reputable paper—a tabloid, actually—but I figure if we just let it pass, it’ll all be forgotten before the day is out.” Her mouth went dry at the mention of a tabloid. “Dallas, how bad? I have folks too.” His silence answered for him. She hung up the phone, then went out into the hall and found a tenant with a pile of newspapers stacked up on his welcome mat. Finding one that was unmistakably a tabloid, she picked it up and unfolded it to see her image, along with Dallas’s, on the tabloid’s front page. “Martinez Bitten by the Love Bug?” Her jaw dropped open. “Oh, no, no, no, no, no, no.” Clearly, someone at the hospital had put their own spin on the events from that evening, naming Jeanette as the biter. She couldn’t help but be amazed at the speed at which gossip travelled. One of those nurses must have had her finger on the hotline the whole time. Despite everything, the first thought that came to her mind was what Julian might think. Even if he didn’t read it first hand, she knew he would find out some other way. She just hoped he’d give her a chance to explain.

In fact, she decided, tossing the paper back to the floor, that was the first thing she was going to do—clear things up with Julian. Dallas’s idea to ignore it only served his purposes. Jeanette couldn’t afford to ignore what might be misconstrued. A cold panic took hold of her. What must Julian be thinking? And what about the rest of the world? She had a career to think about. She raced down the hall and headed back into her apartment, then grabbed the phone and dialed Delia’s number. “Hello?” Delia answered in her usual bored and impatient tone. “Delia! It’s Jeanette.” To Jeanette’s surprise, Delia chuckled. She’d never heard Julian’s crusty assistant laugh before, and it sounded strange “Well, now, aren’t you a popular girl?” Jeanette groaned. All hope that Julian hadn’t heard was lost. “Look, Delia, it’s not true. That’s not what happened.” “That’s not what the headlines say, and they quote a reputable source.” “I was there, but I wasn’t the reason he was there, if you know what I mean.” “No. Why don’t you explain it?” “Never mind, is Julian—er, Mr. Hawthorne in?” “No such luck, sweetie. He’s not taking any calls, but he did direct me to prepare you for Paris.” Jeanette could hear the crisp sound of pages flipping on the other end, then Delia spoke again. “Let’s see, you’re going to need a plane ticket and a

schedule for the show.” Delia’s tone grew serious. “You’re not my first choice, but it seems you made quite an impression on Mr. H.” Jeanette was stunned. “What did you say?” Delia breezed right passed Jeanette’s question. “Maude asks that all models acquaint themselves with the area surrounding the show site. Apparently it’s tricky to navigate, but you’ll all be flying together and then taking a bus to get to and from your hotel.” “Whoa, Delia, you’ve lost me. Are you saying I’m to go to the Paris show as a model?” Her voice squeaked at the last word when her astonishment threatened to silence her. Delia made a sound between a laugh and a snort. “Well, I guess you didn’t get into modeling because of your brains, huh?” Delia’s news and rough treatment left Jeanette’s head spinning. “Look, don’t work yourself into a frenzy. We need you somewhat coherent, or there’s no point in you going. I’ll have the materials sent over via courier. Get some sleep so you don’t look like a wreck.” And with that, Delia hung up. Jeanette sat for a moment, speechless, her mouth hanging open and the receiver beeping in her hand. “Holy Toledo,” she finally said. She managed to hang up the receiver and flopped back down on her pillow. She felt like she’d been sideswiped by a cement truck. A moment ago, she’d believed her career was over, the man who had stolen her heart

with one cheeky wink lost to her forever. Now she didn’t know what to think. For the time being, she wouldn’t allow herself to dwell on the aftermath of the tabloid’s lies, or her failed hook-up with Julian. At least one thing had gone right in her life—she was going to Paris.

Chapter Seven Another bout of turbulence bounced Julian as he sat in his seat, and he frowned in the direction of the pilots’ cabin as though his glare would be felt through the closed door. He knew they hadn’t done it on purpose, but he couldn’t help feeling slighted by everything around him. It was the same kind of knee-jerk reaction that had him jetting off to Paris a few days early rather than flying with a gaggle of excited models in two days’ time. He’d told Delia he wanted to scout the area out, make sure all the rooms were secured and the show exhibit cleaned, but she had just smirked knowingly and offered to go along. At the time, he hadn’t been able to think of a good reason for her not to, except that if she kept shadowing him he might have to kick her out the emergency exit. With an irritated grunt, he tried to focus on the articles in the paper he held out in front of him, but his mind continued to betray him, wandering back to thoughts of Jeanette. Something about her had reawakened his simmering desire, had jumpstarted what he had long thought was a cold, useless heart. Feeling somewhat guilty, he glanced about for Delia before he pulled out a glossy snapshot of Jeanette. Holding the photograph higher, he stared at the her gumdrop nose and bright, smiling eyes.

He was struck again by her innocent beauty, and his heart swelled with affection he hadn’t felt for another person in all his years of dating. In just one meeting, she’d touched him in a way he found impossible to shake off, boldly accepting everything he threw her way, even coming up with ideas of her own. She promised to be an exuberant and fun lover, someone he could be fully himself around. His cock responded to the memory of their short time together, and he gritted his teeth. Days earlier, when she’d made him that hard, he’d stayed hard until he was quite tender. He shifted in his seat and was reminded of the disappointment and heartache he also associated with her—with her and every other model who had used him for one night just to advance her own way in the world. With a weary sigh of one who was used to disappointments, he closed the file, vowing never to tangle with models again, at least not romantically. Delia came over to his seat a moment later, a newspaper tucked under one arm. She arched an eyebrow at the portfolio he had tried to hide but said nothing on the subject. She took the seat next to him and set the paper beside his coffee. He glanced at it, and then at her. She smiled brightly, as though she’d done nothing wrong. He’d already read the article. She was just getting her digs into his already lacerated heart. Unfortunately he couldn’t muster the interest to chide her for being insensitive. She hadn’t outright asked him if

something had gone on between him and Jeanette, and clearly his silence on the matter was driving her nuts. That hadn’t stopped her from voicing her opinion about photographers dating models. “Oh, cheer up.” Delia elbowed him as though they were old chums. “Look on the bright side. Maude will be happy. It draws attention to the show, to the theme in particular. Gives it a raunchier feel, if you know what I mean.” She waggled her eyebrows at him. “‘The best advertising anyone could ask for,’ she said.” He just glared. Delia shrugged. “Suit yourself,” she said, standing. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you about models.” With her nose in the air, she turned and huffed away. Once he was alone again, he picked up the paper she had brought. There, on the front, was Dallas’s image badly Photoshopped alongside Jeanette’s. It wasn’t real proof that anything actually happened, but the article sealed the deal— Jeanette really had left with Dallas. He ran his hand over his naked scalp. It just didn’t seem like Jeanette. Then again, he reminded himself, he barely knew her. Setting the paper down, he realized he was angrier at himself than at Jeanette. He had broken his own rule never to date another model. What he needed to do was focus on the job ahead, get it done, and get out. After that, he’d take a break. Go somewhere away from models and all they brought with them.

As far as he knew, there weren’t any models in the rainforest to tempt and distract him, just tree frogs, tarsiers, and spiders the size of a grown man’s head. Maybe with a little change of scenery, he’d be able to forget her.

Chapter Eight Jeannette’s eyes went wide when Dallas took the seat next to her on the plane. “What are you doing?” she whispered hoarsely. “No offense, but I’m trying to avoid you.” “I noticed,” he said, nodding politely at another passenger walking down the aisle. The man’s eyes widened when he saw them, apparently putting two and two together. “You better not be doing this for kicks and giggles,” she warned. “Because of you, I lost out on one smoking hot date.” “Not at all. I can move if you really want me to. It’s just that ever since that article, the other models won’t leave me alone. You’re the only one who knows I’m not into them, and the only one who isn’t pinching my ass.” Jeanette couldn’t help but laugh. It made perfect sense, and he certainly looked distressed. The last two days had been a hectic frenzy of packing, preparing, and panicking. She figured a little friendly conversation would be a welcome distraction. “All right, fine, you can stay, but I’m not posing for any more journalists.” “And I’m not signing any more autographs,” he joked along with her, then sobered. “You never mentioned you had other plans that night.”

She thought of Julian waiting for her back at the studio while she was out playing nurse with Dallas. He must have been worried, insulted, confused. A flush of heat blossomed in her cheeks. Before Julian, she would have killed for this opportunity to work with Dallas. She pursed her lips. It wasn’t her intention to invite Dallas into a conversation about her nonexistent love life, but he seemed to be genuinely concerned and perhaps feeling a tad responsible. “It’s okay, really. It was spontaneous, and probably better in the long run that it didn’t work out.” He speared her with a contemplative look, searching her face for answers before he moved on with a shrug. “Still, I’m really sorry. I was so caught up in my own stuff that I didn’t stop to think.” She waved her hand in an attempt to appear nonchalant. His eyebrows ached high on his forehead. “Maybe I can help in some way?” “Oh, sure, now you offer.” She rolled her eyes and then laughed when he looked grieved. “Look, as much as I’d like to go back and do it all over again, I can’t. I had my fun, and now it’s just a pleasant memory.” It felt easier to put on a brave face than to let her vulnerability show. “I know what you mean.” He sounded glum. She turned to look at him “Both of us lost out that night.” The truth of her words sank in, and her heartache returned. There was no need to act blasé

around Dallas. If anyone would understand how she was feeling, it was him. “I’m not fooling anyone. My heart is in a sorry state over him.” Dallas smiled warmly and patted her hand. A flight attendant brought them each a glass of wine. “I thought so,” Dallas said. He pushed her glass toward her and picked up his own to make a toast. “How about we try a little optimism? Here’s to what could have been a great night, and to hoping we can finish what we started.” She nodded and clinked her glass with his. The other passengers looked on, and for the first time, Jeanette didn’t care what they were thinking.

Chapter Nine Julian paced back and forth along the aisle separating the front row seats and the next tier of the main auditorium. Far below, a crowd of frantic technicians, stage grips, makeup artists, and halfclothed models flittered about, trying to find their places. He’d taken some personal space for the hundredth time that day, but nothing helped. He was stuck in a state of constant arousal, and that made him snappier than usual. On top of it all, Delia’s concerned glances were starting to get on his nerves. Julian was well aware his sour mood showed and was making the models nervous. Maude hated it when they were skittish, but he couldn’t help it. His little tryst with Jeanette had really pickled his enthusiasm for the whole show. He’d thought he’d be able to handle working with Jeanette so close, but now he realized he was wrong. Perhaps if he’d taken the time to confront her, he wouldn’t feel so undone. Irritation surged through him at the thought. He was the boss of a big show. It wasn’t up to him to chase after models. That would make him look weak. Yet if he acted like he didn’t care, he would feel worse—like an ogre.

He’d double-checked that her name was on the attendance list, but had yet to catch a glimpse of her. Normally Julian would find his situation to be ironic; after all, it was his fault she was there in the first place. He’d put her name on the list for the show, and it was irreversible. If he’d been thinking straight he would have let Kirk, who would someday replace him, take the lead as photographer. That way he could have stayed home nursing his wounded pride, and Kirk would get his chance to prove himself as the next rising star in fashion photography. Julian frowned, looking down at his equipment. Something was missing. A camera case. He looked around for Delia, but she’d slipped away while his back was turned. He couldn’t really blame her. His first impulse was to demand to know where she’d abandoned it. No doubt he’d find it on the loading dock, probably next to the door where anyone clever enough could break in, recognize its value, and steal it. Fuming, he set off to find it. Going the long way around, he avoided the clutter of panicky models milling about by the stage. Even so, at least one person tried to flag him down. Ducking out of sight, he spotted the door that led to the loading dock. Barging in like a linebacker, he hadn’t given any thought of who or what might be lurking behind the door. He shoved the door open, but it stopped dead with a sickening thump, followed by a cry of pain. Julian realized he’d hit someone with

the door. He squeezed inside, and two men in a state of half undress lay in a tangled heap on the floor. They jumped back as if thrown apart, and when the dust settled, Dallas stood alone in the middle of the loading dock, and Julian’s assistant, Kirk, was running off with his hands pressed tightly against his groin. “Not again.” Dallas groaned. “Doesn’t anyone knock anymore?” His face contorted with fury. “Can’t you see I’m trying to cultivate something here?” Dallas’s exasperated tone set Julian back a few feet, but he recovered quickly and addressed the younger man with an equally intolerant expression. “Yes.” Julian cleared his throat. “That much is very clear.” Dallas’ expression sobered. “Mr. Hawthorne, I’m sorry, I didn’t recognize…didn’t see who—” He stumbled over his tongue in an attempt to choose his words. “I did see, Dallas,” Julian started, but his tone softened as his mind worked on the details. Apparently he and Jeanette weren’t the only ones worried about favoritism. “You won’t tell anyone, will you?” Dallas pleaded. “Tell?” Julian scowled, not understanding. “It’ll ruin everything I’ve worked for. In all my roles I’m supposed to be this tough womanizer and—” “No.” Julian shook his head. “That’s your business. I’ve got my own stuff to worry about.” He

stopped short, having realized the significance of catching Dallas with a man. He opened his mouth, but then closed it again, not knowing exactly how to ask the delicate question of whether Dallas was bi, gay, or, more importantly, with Jeanette. He shuffled his feet and tried to look casual. “Speaking of which—where is Jeanette?” He could see his question had confused the younger man. “Why would I know where Jeanette is?” “According to the papers, you were with her the other night, and I assume you two are well acquainted,” Julian prompted. Dallas looked pained. “Look, man, the papers did her a disservice. She saved me from a rather embarrassing situation, much like the one you just witnessed.” He jerked his thumb in the direction Kirk had scuttled off to. “My own lover left me doubled over in pain, but she drove me down to the hospital when anyone else would have called the paparazzi. I’ll never forget her kindness. I probably should have gone public, saved her the grief.” He shook his head. “I know she would have rather been back at the studio. Apparently she had a hot date.” He arched his eyebrows and stared pointedly at Julian. Julian couldn’t believe his ears. Jeanette wasn’t the one who had bitten Dallas—in fact, she had come back to the studio, looking for him. He could see now that Delia’s message had been lacking in detail. Those small facts might have saved both Jeanette and himself a lot of heartache.

Dallas grimaced and glanced over his shoulder, then started edging away. “I figured out the date Jeanette was in such a fluster over was you. She certainly wasn’t about to go over the details with me, though. I feel real bad about the mix-up, but at least she got this gig.” “Believe me, no one is more glad than I am.” Julian grimaced. “But she got the part because she earned it.” “I know that, and you know that, but does she? I mean, from what she told me on the plane, she came back to an empty studio and a highly soughtafter modeling placement in Paris. I’m guessing she doesn’t know what to think.” Julian chewed his lip. Normally he wouldn’t allow anyone to mouth off at him the way Dallas was, but at that moment he figured humility served him better. Julian sighed. “I guess I’d better clear some things up with her, huh?” “Listen.” Dallas had one foot already out of the room. “You go find Jeanette. I need to make sure Kirk is okay.” Julian chuckled softly. Clearly Dallas had reconciled with his lover—now it was time Julian did the same. “Oh, hey, Dallas?” Julian called out. “Word of advice?” Dallas stopped moving and nodded. “You might want to look into a less flighty friend.” He jerked his head in the direction Kirk had run.

A lopsided smile pulled at the corner of Dallas’s mouth. “Not a chance.” Dallas’s last words echoed from the recesses of the loading dock, and Julian chuckled. Dallas had been bitten by the love bug all right.

*** Jeanette couldn’t help glancing over her shoulder every time she heard a deep male voice, but not one of them held Julian’s confident British accent. So far, the prestigious Mr. Hawthorne had stayed out of sight as well as out of earshot. It didn’t help that Maude had purposefully overbooked her models. Since Jeanette was the last added to the list, she was an extra, and therefore assigned duties that involved unpacking boxes filled with costumes. His absence at the show was as alarming as it was distracting, and for once, she was glad her bad luck pulled her from the front lines where she might have made a fool out of herself. She wasn’t sure how she would react when actually faced with Julian’s charismatic personality. She might swoon, cry, or throw herself at his feet and beg him finish what he’d started.

Feeling especially picked-on, Jeanette gave the full rack of clothes closest to her a shove. “My, my, feeling feisty, are we?” Maude’s indisputably squawky voice sounded right behind Jeanette. Jeanette yelped and jumped in surprise. Maude’s cold hand came down over Jeanette’s arm. Her cheeks grew hot, and then even hotter when she realized Maude La Roma was studying her rather intently. “You’re the one Julian recommended?” the older woman finally asked. Jeanette struggled to understand. That was news to her. Eventually she managed to nod. “Good.” She lifted her hand off Jeanette’s arm, and she couldn’t help but rub the spot in a vain effort to warm it up again. “I hate to do this to you, honey, but you’re all I’ve got. It turns out we don’t have all the props we need. The shipment—well, let’s just say it didn’t make it through customs.” She shrugged, making her shiny purple dress billow out like a sail. “I sure hope they’re making good use of it.” Her face twisted to one side with an over salacious wink. Jeanette graced her boss with a nervous smile. “Normally I wouldn’t ask a model to go on such an errand, but you’re not a big name yet, baby doll, and all my other gofers are maxed.” She made a grand gesture, indicating the crowded room behind her. People hustled to and fro at such a rate that they constantly got in each other’s way. “So be a good sport, will you, sugar? There’s a nice little adult gift shop down on fourth. Here’s my card—

bring me back some gimmicks, something to pull off the show. Keep it tasteful. No fluffy pink handcuffs. I want kinky, not trashy.” Jeanette took the credit card Maude thrust into her hand. “If they won’t take my credit on good faith, or reputation alone, then set up an account.” Jeanette’s shoulders threatened to sag under the weighty responsibility, but she fought the urge and walked out of the room. Earlier, she would have wanted the old fashion diva to think of her as a stand-up kind of gal, someone who could work under pressure, but now she realized Maude wouldn’t even notice. She settled for keeping her dignity. What the hell. It would do her some good to get away from the chaos. She needed to clear her head, gather her wits, and decide what to do about Julian. She longed to confront him, to demand answers, but that would be career suicide. Then again, what did it matter? If Julian’s absence was any sign, she wasn’t going to actually appear in the show. After their failed tryst, she probably wasn’t ever going to be hired again. The man was powerful, and had earned his nickname—the Ogre—for those very reasons. Her mind buzzing, she wrapped her trench coat tight around her middle and stepped out into the rain-slick streets of Paris.

***

Julian pushed past a throng of scantily clad models as though they were nothing more than dust-covered drapes. They gasped and exclaimed at his brash treatment, but he didn’t pay them any attention. His mind was on one model in particular, and unless he saw her pert little bottom traipsing down the hall, he wasn’t slowing down for anyone. Maude stood in the middle of the room with her eyes closed and her arms suspended at her sides as though she were conducting a great symphony and the workers and models milling about her were the notes of her masterpiece. He approached her with caution, his arm up to shield his eyes. Her purple-sequined evening gown was enough to blind a man. “Maude, have you seen Jeanette?” “Names mean nothing to me, you know that,” was her reply. Julian smiled tightly, knowing if he wanted answers he had to keep his cool. “She’s the one with the red bottom on this month’s front cover,” he said, speaking her language. Maude still stared at him with a blank expression. “The one I recommended.” Maude turned, her face bright with excitement. “Oh, that one. I sent her to Fourth Street. Had I known she was the owner of that spankable bottom I never would have let her out of my sight. It is

rather hard to see her face in that shot, you know.” She bit her finger, showing her distress. “Fourth Street? Why?” Julian demanded. “For sex toys, of course!” Maude laughed loudly, and one of the lighting technicians nearly toppled off of his ladder. Julian grimaced. “You sent Jeanette to get sex toys? Shouldn’t she be getting dressed for the show?” “No room. Had to make a cut somewhere.” She clucked her tongue as though it were a great shame, but Julian could see that her mind had already moved off the topic. “Then cut someone else.” He scowled. “Jeanette is nothing short of memorable!” Now he was the one talking loud. People glanced with surprise in his direction, but he didn’t pay them any attention. “Had you been there, you would have seen they way her curves fit into that crimson corset, how her exuberant expressions conveyed exactly what the gig called for, and the way her perfect, reddened bottom went above and beyond the call of duty.” There was a brief pause while Maude seemed to ponder Julian’s words. “Memorable?” Maude squinted thoughtfully. “Yes.” “Then go get her, and make sure she’s wearing that number from the magazine.” Julian nodded, already running for the door.

Chapter Ten Jeanette couldn’t fight the power blush that warmed her cheeks the moment she set foot inside the sex shop. Thankfully there weren’t any other customers. Only one lone clerk was present. The young woman, looking entirely bored, leaned on the counter and flipped through a racy magazine. Glossy photos of various naked couples could be seen on every page, and Jeanette could only assume the young woman had become desensitized by her surroundings. “Bonjour,” the clerk muttered half-heartedly, barely lifting her head. Jeanette blushed harder and scuttled off into a corner where she could duck behind a rack loaded with brightly packaged products. Only after she’d confirmed that the clerk had lost all interest in her did she really notice where she’d placed herself. Brightly colored sex toys of every description—some ridiculous, some intriguing, and some perplexing—hung from hooks at eye level. There was a section for dildos, cock gags, handcuffs, and various forms of blow-up dolls. “Good heavens,” she muttered. “Avez-vous besoin d'aide?” the clerk called out. Jeanette’s eyes widened. Somehow, she had forgotten the fact that everyone else in Paris would be speaking French. She should have brushed up. Oh, well, no point in fretting about it now. D’aide

clearly meant aid, or help, and she certainly didn’t want some strange fetish freak telling her what Maude wanted for her fashion show. “Non, sorry, Je ne comprends pas le French, er, Francoi.” Jeanette struggled with her grade nine French language skills. “Francoi!” The clerk held her hands up in defeat and snorted. “C'est un nom d'homme.” Homme? Jeanette had heard that before. It was either a man or an apple. “Well, at least we’ve established that my French is rustier than I thought,” she muttered, quieter this time, feeling sheepish and stupid. Just grab whatever looks freaky and get the hell out of here, she told herself. She reached for an item that looked appropriate, then lugged it over to where the young woman sat, then started piling random items next to it. The clerk raised an eyebrow, no doubt thinking Jeanette was pretty green at being kinky, and let it go at that. It doesn’t matter, Jeanette thought over and over. It doesn’t matter. She dug through her wallet and pulled out Maude’s credit card. She was about to hand it over when something soft and black caught her eye. Turning to look, she recognized the handiwork of none other than Maude La Roma herself. The soft bodice hung limply on a rack just on the far side of the counter. Jeanette caught her breath at the glorious sight. Forgetting the other items, she stepped lightly over to the garment and fingered the cloth with longing. Oh, what could it hurt just to try it on?

Julian certainly would have approved, if his reaction to the red leather bodice was anything to go by. Thinking of him brought a new flush to her cheeks, and she disappeared into the changing room before she could chicken out.

*** Julian burst through the doors of his third sex shop on Fourth Street, cursing Maude for her obscurity. Although there was no sign of Jeanette, this store showed promise. A tidy pile of bondage gear covered the counter, where a large, bored woman sat, leaning her cheek on one fist. Still out of breath from his run, he approached the clerk, red-faced and breathing hard. “Have you seen a voluptuous blonde woman come in here, very striking?” The clerk made a face, squinting her eyes. Then, after a moment, she shrugged. “Une fille blonde.” He held his hand out to show how tall Jeanette was and made a few other gestures to approximate her shape. The clerk jerked her thumb toward the back wall, where a curtain served as a door. Over the door the words “changing room” were written in French. He pushed through the heavy fabric where six more stalls, each separated by a heavy velvet

curtain, greeted him. He studied the row of curtains, not knowing which stall she might be in, until he spotted the loveliest set of painted toes he’d ever seen peeking out from beneath the one closest to him. His heart alight, Julian pulled the curtain aside with gusto. Jeanette gasped and instinctively attempted to cover her semi-naked form. She’d just managed to tug the top half of an exquisite black bodice up over her breasts. He flashed her a lopsided grin. “Don’t bother. I only came to take it off again.” “I—” He stepped forward and cut her protest short with one finger to her lips. “I’m sorry,” he said, pulling the curtain closed behind him. Jeanette moved back to accommodate him—at least he hoped that was what she was doing. He’d hate to think he’d managed to intimidate her. “Delia left out some important details in your message. All she told me was that you’d left with Dallas, and I jumped to the conclusion that you’d gotten a better offer. If I’d known you’d be right back, I’d have handcuffed myself to the bench and waited all night for you.” She blinked up at him, her hands still covering her breasts. “I couldn't stop thinking about you. You were on my mind for three whole days, even when I tried to think of something else.” Her mouth opened upon hearing his confession. For a while it looked as if she was struggling with

what to say. Eventually she just shook her head. “I couldn’t just leave him there. It was a delicate situation.” Julian nodded. “And I commend you for your actions.” He caressed her cheek with the back of his knuckles. “A long time ago I made myself a promise not to get involved with the women I photographed, but you, you’re different. I think that’s why I overreacted when I thought you’d run off with Dallas.” “He couldn’t hold a candle to you.” Her voice was barely above a whisper. He struggled to conceal his elation, not wanting to overwhelm her. “To find me gone must have been as excruciating for you as it was for me, considering how worked up you were.” “I barely slept a wink.” A pale pink tinge colored her cheeks at her confession, and his heart skipped a beat. He wanted to bed down with this woman for the rest of his life, and he barely knew her. “Wh-what are you doing here? I mean, I didn’t know what to think when you weren’t there. Everything was dark. I tried to call the studio, but all I got was Delia’s answering service. I decided you had changed your mind about me, and then you weren’t taking any calls, and I heard you left early for Paris—” He nodded, her obvious distress wrenching on his heart.

“It was a huge misunderstanding, one we ought to blame on Delia and her wretched skills at relaying messages.” She nodded too, a slight smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. She was warming up to him already, he thought, hoping they could pick up where they left off. “I think we should advise Dallas to steer clear of doors.” His chuckle at his own joke died when he saw her eyes widen. “Oh, poor Dallas.” She shook her head but he’d seen her smile widen into a smirk before she hid her expression. “I hope he wasn’t hurt too badly this time.” “No, I don’t believe so. Kirk, on the other hand, might be in tomorrow’s headlines.” He drew closer, then wrapped his arms around her waist. “But Dallas seemed quite eager to tell me all about that night you rescued him, explaining how you were in a bit of a hurry to get back to the studio where you’d left your hot date.” He drew his thumb across her bottom lip, and she shivered. “Clearly you never told him it was me you were rushing back to, and I must admit, I’m impressed. Most girls in this business would kill for a chance to gloat about something like that.” She blushed, her head dipping as she looked at the floor. He brought two fingers beneath her chin, then applied a little pressure until she met his eyes once again.

“You’re the real thing, Jeanette.” He let his fingers trail down the length of her graceful neck until his fingertips grazed the contour of her collarbone. “I am utterly fascinated by you.” “How did you ever find me?” “Maude,” he simply stated. She gasped, seeming to remember her quest. “Oh! I’ll be late.” She tugged against him, straining for the exit. “I got carried away and forgot entirely.” He held her steady and moved so he better blocked the curtain door. “Don’t you worry. She’ll keep. We have hours before the show, plenty of time for us to think of some way I can make it up to you.” “Make what up to me?” She appeared genuinely perplexed. “For assuming the worst of you, and for not questioning Delia more when I knew the information she had relayed to me didn’t feel right.” Jeanette looked surprised, but then her expression changed. Her eyebrows narrowed, and her mouth pulled into a wicked smile. “Oh, I don’t know, Julian. You can’t expect to barge into my changing room with that devilish look in your eye and expect me to forgive you. I was very, very disappointed.” She drew one long finger across the plane of his chest. “Do you know how hard it is to fall asleep after how you made me feel? Every time that thin bed sheet brushed against my ass, I thought of you and those strong, firm hands.” He reached around behind her and gripped both her buttocks firmly, giving each of them a

squeeze. “Maybe I should start by warming these up for you.” He brought his palm down hard on one exposed cheek, and she gasped again, this time louder. “Ah, still tender, I see?” He grinned. “No, just appreciative,” she purred and snuggled up closed to him. “Mademoiselle?” The concerned voice of the clerk called out from the recesses of the store. Jeanette covered her mouth with her hands, then recovered her composure enough to reply, “I’m fine.” But her voice betrayed her, and she choked at the lastwords, breaking off abruptly. “L’assistance?” Julian chose that moment to give her other cheek a squeeze. He seemed to enjoy her flummoxed expression. “No, er, Non. Je Bein, er…muy bien—Oh, blast!” She gave him a playful slap. “Now I’m talking in Spanish. You have me all flustered.” Julian just grinned. The clerk now stood just outside the first door to the changing rooms. Jeanette could see her grass-stained running shoes beneath the edge of the curtain. “We’re fine. She just really liked that last corset.” He gave Jeanette’s bottom another little pinch, and she uttered a little squeak. Her lips pressed against his throat in what he thought was an attempt to muffle her outbursts, but his smile widened when she covered him in kisses.

“Pardon?” the clerk asked. “S'il vous plaît excusez-nous, le vêtement est plutôt stimulant,” Julian said with a laugh. Jeanette stopped kissing his neck to look at him wide-eyed. “You speak French?” He looked at her, confused and slightly amused, “A little, yes. Why?” “Oh,” she groaned and melted in his embrace, “That is such a turn on.” “Nous aimerions un peu d'intimité, si vous n'avez pas des objections.” He winked at Jeanette. “I think I’m going to need a translator,” she said with another sigh. “Ugh!” The clerk spluttered in disgust, then walked away, muttering something unintelligible. “How did you convince her to give up her post by the door?” Julian’s mouth pulled into a sly smile. “I was polite, first complimenting the garment when I told her it was stimulating, and then I used my professional charm to ask her to leave us alone.” “I’m not sure she was charmed, but we’ll take whatever time we can get.” “In that case…” He knelt so his face was firmly entrenched between her legs. “I’m going to start right here.”

***

Jeanette had to brace her hands against either side of the stall in order to stay standing. With no apparent effort, Julian pulled her underwear swiftly to the ground and spread her legs wider to accommodate him. His tongue pushed through the tight V of her pussy and he purred his approval, the sound sending tantalizing vibrations rippling through her. He drew her inner lips into his mouth and gently sucked, then took turns teasing her clit with the tip and the flat of his tongue. Between the two variations, he had her moaning out loud in minutes. Just when she thought it couldn’t possibly feel any better, Julian’s fingers plunged high up into her. “Oh, my,” she said as he explored the full extent of her arousal, sliding two thick digits along her slick pussy, and then plunging into her with a crudeness that made her weak in the knees. She moaned in ecstasy while he pumped her, and arched her back, seeking fuller penetration. His fingers slowed their pace, each thrust growing more and more shallow. Her pussy gripped his pumping fingers tight, stopping all movement as the muscles clamped down around him. Julian clicked his tongue in mock disapproval. “We can’t have you going off like a firecracker so soon. There’s still much fun to be had.” She felt suspended by a thread ready to break, teetering on the brink of her release. Before she could succumb, Julian’s strong hands guided her into a sitting position on the narrow bench behind her, and she arched her hips as she strained to feel

more than just his tongue. But Julian, merciless in his pursuit, continued to caress her, his tongue slurping noisily as his fingers dug into her buttocks in a mixture of urgency and patience, drawing her orgasm out until she couldn’t remain silent. She moaned loudly, a long, drawn-out sound that inspired Julian to echo it. The floor creaked outside their small cubicle. The clerk had returned. The clerk said something in French, and Julian responded with an exasperated sigh. “She’s determined and righteous, suggesting we take this up in a hotel. Still, maybe she can be of assistance.” He poked his head out and rambled off a long string of French words that left Jeanette’s head spinning. Then he turned to look at her and wriggled his eye brows. “Cinglé!” the clerk said with an exaggerated roll of her eyes, but she left, apparently to do as he asked. “What did you say?” Jeanette asked. “I asked her to bring us some things and told her this was probably the highlight of her day.” He laughed with triumphant glee. When a red leather garment appeared through the gap in the curtain, Jeanette gasped again. One of Maude’s leather corsets, different than the one she’d had on for the photo shoot, but unmistakably the same one worn by a top supermodel two seasons ago, and it was dangling right in front of her nose. Julian took something else from the clerk but he hid that behind his back.

“Oh, no, that’s too expensive,” she said, but she reached for it anyway and had it off the hanger before he could argue. “Not for Maude,” he muttered under his breath, then chuckled.

*** Julian beamed as Jeanette held the corset up to her body, her eyes bright with excitement. “Close your eyes,” she commanded. “Not a chance,” he protested, wanting to watch as Jeanette dressed in a suit he knew would send him over the top. She crossed her arms and looked at him with a stern expression. “Do you want to be surprised?” He sighed begrudgingly, all the while enjoying her playful nature. When he opened his eyes again he had to bite his knuckle to stay silent. The last thing he wanted was another interruption from the clerk. Jeanette was a vision of sultry goodness, standing before him in nothing but the skintight leather corset. His cock pulsed like a beating heart, and he feared it would be near impossible to hold off much longer. But he had one more treat planned for Jeanette, a little something he’d asked the clerk to bring him.

“I have a little surprise for you too, Jeanette.” He twirled one finger in the air, gesturing for her to turn around. Smiling shyly, she stood and turned so her back was to him. “Now bend over and brace your hands against the wall.” He spared a moment to appreciate the lovely sight before him, her pert bottom exposed and waiting for whatever devious acts he could think up. Only when she had done as he suggested did he bring a rather plain looking, lightweight paddle into view. Her eyes widened at the sight of it. “Are you game?” he asked, hoping he hadn’t taken the fun too far. “Is it worse than your hand?” she asked, and her voice quivered ever so subtly. “It doesn’t have to be.” “Show me,” she said after a moment. Julian grinned. “My pleasure.” He brought his arm back a short distance, then brought the flat of the paddle up against the fleshy part of her buttocks. Jeanette jumped a little, but otherwise didn’t complain. He had gone extra gently, in case the paddle intimidated her too much. “Still good?” “Do it again,” she commanded. He brought the paddle down on her other cheek, this time a little harder. A small red mark was beginning to bloom. “Ooh.” She sucked air in through her teeth. “Again.”

After one rather ambitious paddling, the clerk returned, impatient with them as ever. “Aucun test de la merchandise!” She exclaimed just outside their door. “Believe me, lady, we own this item now. We’re not leaving anything behind. We will put it on our credit card with the rest of the stuff.” “Les autres clients peuvent venir à tout moment.” Now she was claiming other customers would barge in. “So?” he countered. “You might even sell more.” The clerk huffed indignantly, but her footsteps pounded back into the main room once again. Changing his stance, Julian resumed paddling Jeanette’s bottom, moving across and down in a circular pattern, and each time he increased the pressure by the tiniest degree. Soon her bottom glowed bright pink, and she arched her back, demanding more. Her breathing quickened as he stimulated all her hot spots until he thought she would lose control and moan so loudly she would bring the roof down on their heads. As much as Julian enjoyed a vigorous paddling, he wanted to feel his hands on her again and, even more, his cock deep inside her.

***

With each crack of the flat wooden paddle, Jeanette drew closer to another orgasm. Never would she have thought a paddle could bring her so much pleasure, but she knew if she didn’t say something soon, she would come again, and Julian had yet to slide his cock inside her. “I need you, Julian,” she gasped. “I can’t stand another moment without you inside me. I need to feel you fucking me.” A groan that sounded painful erupted from his throat, and all at once he was tearing at his clothes. His shirt went soaring past her head, and his belt buckle thumped as his pants hit the floor. “Wait!” he exclaimed, just as he was about to remove his underwear, and then he rushed out of the changing room. Peering around the curtain, she watched as he strode into the shop and grabbed a handful of condoms out of a plastic jug on the counter. Then, as an afterthought, he grabbed the French maid costume on display, sparing a cheeky wink for the woman standing open-mouthed behind the counter. “Monsieur!” the clerk exclaimed. Julian ignored her. “I hope you like French ticklers,” he said once he was safe inside the curtains again. He threw a small handful onto the bench behind her. He extracted one of the condoms from its package and rolled it over his bulging erection with shaky fingers. It made her smile to see him so excited. A moment later, his hips framed her raised

bottom. She could feel his hard cock pressing against her pussy and then the warmth of his shaft as he inched it along the inside of her thighs. Finally, he brought the silky head to her entrance. “Oh, Julian!” she encouraged him. With his hands on her hips, he held her steady as he eased his cock inside, stretching the walls of her pussy. Never before had a man filled her so full, and she groaned appreciatively. The coarse hairs of his pubis scratched against her scorched bottom, and his tight sac nudged her engorged clit. He hesitated once when he reached the end, and she could feel his prick pulsating as he struggled not to come. She held perfectly still, aware of the hairpin trigger he was dancing around, but she couldn’t quell the thoughts of the kinkiness of their situation—having sex in an adult shop with an unending supply of fantasy materials to choose from. It nearly sent her over the edge. She couldn’t fathom a situation that could turn her on more. After a moment, he mastered himself, and she felt him begin to move. Soon he was ramming his cock into her, fucking her hard and fast. She felt every ridge of his engorged shaft as it stretched her tight, every cervix-pounding thrust, and the titillating way the wide flange of the head of his cock dragged and pushed against her walls. An elated cry reverberated off the walls of their tiny cubicle, and she heard Julian gently shush her. Jeanette knew they had been getting increasingly louder and less inhibited, but she

didn’t care. Neither of them would be able to hold off much longer, and then it was just a matter of paying for their stuff and getting the heck out of there.

Chapter Eleven “Excusez-moi!” The astonished voice of the clerk sounded behind them. Julian glanced over his shoulder to see the young woman with her hands covering her mouth and her eyes widened to the size of saucers. “Oh for the love of—” he spluttered. “Go away.” He waved his arm at her, but this time she would not back down. He paused, a surly scowl replacing his previous feeling of elation. “Non, je ne veux pas! Je vais téléphoner à la police!” She let the curtain go with a whap. “Did she just say something about the police?” Jeanette asked. “Empty threats,” Julian muttered, more amused by the hypocrisy of the situation than he was afraid she would follow through on her threat and phone the police. “Still,” he said, pausing. “I’d better take care of this just to make sure. He reached into his jeans pocket and pulled out a wad of cash. Jeanette bit her lip, but didn’t object. He hated leaving her, but the last time they’d been interrupted had almost cost them everything. Remembering Delia’s mix-up made him take drastic measures. He wasn’t letting this gorgeous woman out of his sight.

Just as he turned to go out, his gaze fell on Maude’s credit card sitting on the bench beside the pile of condoms. Snatching it up, he all but dove through the curtains in his haste to catch up to the clerk. He found her at the counter, the receiver tucked under her chin. She was furiously punching numbers into the phone. When she glanced up to see him standing there, naked, erect, and holding a credit card, her eyes widened, but she set the receiver down. “Here,” he said, snapping the thin plastic down against the counter. “We’ll take it all. Charge it— the suit, the miscellaneous stuff. And this.” He thrust the cash toward her. “If you would just go for a coffee, take yourself shopping or something, maybe for half an hour, we’ll be your biggest sale yet.” The clerk reached out and took the cash, and her astonished expression changed to a pleased one. “Oui, monsieur,” she said, confirming his suspicion that she understood English very well. He glanced up to see a security camera aimed right at them. “And we’ll take that video tape too.” The clerk moved to do his bidding. When he realized she intended to remove the video, Julian stopped her. “Hold off on that a moment, if you don’t mind.” Her shocked expression returned, but she left the machine running as he’d asked.

“And lock up behind you too,” he added with a wink. When she winked back, he felt satisfied that he had the situation under control. A thump followed by the sound of fabric rustling drew his attention to the back room. He turned to see Jeanette’s pretty face peering through a gap in the curtain. He paused as the door chimed, then let out a sigh of relief when the sound of the lock clicking into place reached his ears. Hurrying to Jeanette’s side, he scooped her up so her legs wrapped around his middle. Without any warning, he entered her again and carried both of them through the curtains into the spacious storefront. “Julian!” Jeanette protested. He carried her over to the front counter, propping her up with her back against the high edge. She glanced around the room, her gaze seeking out the windows. Every one of them had been covered in some sort of metallic screen. “Not to worry, my sweet. The place is ours.” He saw mischief and excitement sparkling in her eyes. “Now, where were we?” He smiled at Jeanette with deep affection. Her pussy clenched around his cock, as though to remind him what he’d been doing minutes ago, and he chuckled. Rocking his hips, he pushed deep into her, slamming his hips against her soft curves until her

breasts jiggled pleasantly. She gripped his buttocks, drawing him in closer, and he toiled with pleasure.

*** The counter dug into Jeanette’s back, but she didn’t mind—everything else Julian did felt amazing. With all his weight bearing down on his pounding shaft, she couldn’t help but let him take full control. He didn’t seem to mind—in fact, from the way he looked at her, he was close to his own orgasm. Grinding her hips, she gave him that extra little push, and was rewarded when his cock grew hard as iron. He slammed into her with newfound fury, driving his cock up and in until her walls gripped him hard, and she came with a white burst of light behind her eyes. A moment later, Julian’s fingers dug into her hips, and he uttered a garbled cry as his orgasm tore through him. Had he not been wearing a condom, she was sure a fountain of fluid would have gushed forth with each earth-moving spasm. Reaching out, she wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him close. “Is it possible that I already love you?” she asked softly.

Out of breath, he pressed his chest against her breasts and laid his forehead down. She could feel his cock still throbbing inside her and was grateful he wasn’t in a hurry to pull out. “Oh, yes,” he whispered. “Very possible. I know, because I feel the same way—just didn’t want to freak you out.” He rolled his forehead across her breasts to her right shoulder, then he lifted his head. His lips pressed down on her sweat-slicked skin, over and over, making a path up and around to the other shoulder. “I’ve never met a lover like you.” His voice was soft and tender, and her sex throbbed upon hearing him describe her as his lover. With a gentle touch, he traced the curve of her chin to her earlobe, over to her mouth where he brought his lips down on hers. He kissed her, deep and long, and she was even more amazed by this mysterious man’s bottomless talents. “Nor I one like you,” she said, giggling. “In just our brief introduction, I’ve fallen harder than I ever have before.” “I guess we’d better ask for a receipt,” Julian joked, and they laughed “I’d say we got one heck of a deal,” she joked along with him. “And a tape to watch later too.” He jerked his head in the direction of the camera. Jeanette blushed, but she couldn’t have been more pleased.

Chapter Twelve Paris offered many sights, but none could take her breath away like seeing Julian holding that paddle. He sat in the front row, the paddle cradled discreetly in his lap. Her eyes had widened when she saw it, inspiring her to put a little more sashay into her walk, and her stinging bottom served as a nice reminder throughout the show. When she reached the end of the catwalk, she turned her bright red cheeks toward the audience and received a standing ovation, followed by an enthusiastic encore, started by none other than Julian himself. She’d beamed. Now no one would forget her. Julian was waiting for her back stage. He swept over for a deep kiss. “Nice outfit. Really brings out the pink in your cheeks.” “I have you to thank for that.” “You truly were a star out there.” Just then Dallas walked by. He waved awkwardly and gave her two thumbs up. She smiled, remembering how Dallas had reacted when asked to spank her. Had things gone differently, and Dallas hadn’t reacted as he had, she wondered if she would have ever met Julian. Just the thought made her heart ache.

She watched Julian’s face express a range of emotions and wondered if he was thinking the same thing. She reached out for him, then wrapped her arms around his middle and drew him close. “Come on, lover, we’ve got a movie to catch.” “A movie?” he said, sounding confused. “I hear it stars a camera man and a newly discovered supermodel.” She wriggled her hips and let him fill in the blanks. A slow smile spread across his handsome features as her words sunk in. “So wanton,” he teased, pulling the thin leather strip tight then letting it go with a snap. She stifled a yelp. “Only for you.” She gave him a coy wink. Even though she’d only just met him, it was the truth. She’d taken risks with her career, but never her love life. Yet there was no doubt in her mind he was a good man, and the right man for her. “This might seem presumptuous, a tad opportunistic, or even silly, but I was wondering if you would accompany me to the rainforest some day in the near future?” Her mouth went dry upon hearing his words. “The rainforest?” The thought of traipsing about on a backwoods excursion wasn’t first on her to-do list, but if it meant being with Julian, she was certainly willing to give it a try. She thought about a tree house hut high above the leafy canopy, of Julian in a white cotton shirt open in the front, and felt her pulse quicken.

“Jeanette?” He sounded concerned. She realized she hadn’t answered his question. How could she? He’d taken her breath away. “I have to warn you, the thought of you all to myself somewhere out in the boonies might turn me into one wild woman. Do you think you’d be able to handle me afterward?” “If by handle you mean tie you to a banana tree and spank that saucy bottom until I deem it is time to fuck you proper, then yes, I think I can manage that quite well.” He gave her bottom a squeeze, making her gasp out loud. “I wondered how you achieved that natural glow. Now I know.” Maude’s voice sounded from behind them, making them jump. She approached them, seeming pleased rather than annoyed to see them together. “Your performance and the overall events of the night went very well, don’t you think?” Jeanette nodded mutely, and Julian beamed. Then Maude’s keen eyesight zeroed in on the garment Jeanette wore. Jeanette held her breath. Most of the equipment, props, and garments they’d purchased at the adult shop had been left in a heap back in the changing rooms, except for the one item Jeanette had worn outside under her trench coat and a few other tidbits Julian carried in a small duffle bag. “This isn’t from this year’s collection. Where did you find this? It’s gorgeous. Some of my earlier work, no? I thought they’d all sold out.” Her plump

fingers smoothed over the material. “I must have it.” Julian hooked his arm through Jeanette’s. “Only after we’re done with it.” He spared Maude one of his cheeky winks then led Jeanette away from the old fashion diva’s prying eyes.

Chapter Thirteen Julian answered the phone, much to Jeanette’s protests, only to hear Maude La Roma’s husky voice on the other end of the line. “Julian!” she exclaimed. “I’ve been trying to get a hold of you for a month now. Where on Earth have you been?” “Out,” he answered simply. “Out?” Maude echoed him. “Can’t you do better than that? I am a little perplexed by my credit card statement. Aside from the props, there are a dozen condoms, a French maid costume, a store security video fee, two vintage Maude La Roma suits that I’ve never seen again since the show, not to mention a handful of miscellaneous charges.” Julian chewed his finger, trying to think of how to explain what had happened without giving up too much information. He glanced over at Jeanette, where she sat just out of reach, her jungle tan glowing under the black and white French maid outfit that Maude had paid for. After a short working session with the Maude La Roma fetish wear tour, the two of them had rushed away for a short, private break. Jeanette’s phone had been ringing off the hook, and her calendar was quickly filling up. She’d made it, thanks to the red leather teddy, a perfectly pink set of crimson cheeks, and the very best catwalk

performance he’d ever seen, and now that she had, she’d insisted she take a little time off. Jeanette’s bottom lip stuck out in a mock pout at their fun having been interrupted, her hands covering her breasts, which spilled over the starched white ruffles. He bit his lip, feeling an almost painful surge of lust for her. What did it matter what Maude thought, anyway? He had everything he ever needed right here in his bed. “Maude, don’t ask questions that you don’t want to hear the answers to.” With that, he hung up and rolled Jeanette onto him. He hoisted her flared crinoline skirt higher up her waist, giving him a perfect view of her crotchless panties. “You do realize that, as a photographer and a model, we are a walking tabloid cliché.” “Yes.” She giggled. “But at least we are a very happy one.” He planted a sweet kiss on her forehead Her hand went to the thin ribbon holding her blouse closed. With one teasing tug, she unfastened the material, sending it cascading away from her breasts. “Mercy,” he said with an elated sigh, and she wiggled her bottom against his hard shaft. “Again?” “Mm-hmm, again.” ~End~

~ About the Author ~ Bombarded by hot Southern winds, frigid Northern winds, and dripping wet Eastern winds, Tori McCalin is often holed up in her small little house on the prairies. For most of the day, Tori lives in her head, surrounded by erotic thoughts about people she’s never met, and never will. Find more about Tori McCalin here: http://www.torimccalin.blogspot.com