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“Nothing. You’re hot. I was just laughing at how lucky I am.”
I blushed. And that’s exactly why he got his way in moments like this. If I was hot it was only because he made me that way. “Are we doing this or not? I still have to get dressed.”
He unzipped and stepped closer, cupping the back of my head and giving me little time to do more than part my lips as his hard cock slid to the back of my throat with purpose. He groaned and a delicious calm settled over me.
I actually loved doing this for him and regretted that we only had two minutes. I let him fuck my mouth like he wanted because I wanted that too, but after a few quick pumps, he was zipping up.
“That’s it?”
“For now.”
How did he do that? How did he cut himself off from pleasure and not even break a sweat? His discipline was mind-boggling compared to mine. I was the one blowing him, yet I felt ripped off.
He glanced over his shoulder. “They’re going to knock again in about ten seconds.”
“Shit.”
He helped me off the floor and I rushed to put my panties back on. I quickly stepped into the jumpsuit. “Can you zipper this?”
“Take a breath, baby. Without us, they have no story.”
That was true, but I still hated making people wait. I didn’t want them to think we were rude or entitled or having sex in the dressing room.
Hale fixed his hair with a quick swipe of his fingers. I swear, the beautiful bastard looked like runway material on his worst day. So unfair. But he still had an enormous boner.
He glanced at me through his reflection in the mirror. “What are you grinning about?”
“Nothing. Just thinking how dreamy my boyfriend is.” And how embarrassing dicks could be.
“Fiancé,” He corrected, reaching into his pants and making a quick adjustment.
Another knock pounded, startling me again even though it was expected.
“Time,” that same voice called.
“Ready?” Hale asked, before flipping the lock.
“As I’ll ever be.” The moment I stepped into the hall I realized my crucial mistake. “Shit.”
Hale paused. “Problem?”
“I think I put my underwear on backward.”
“I’ll tell them to wait.”
A woman with a clipboard appeared at the end of the narrow hall. “We’re all set up this way, love birds”
I waved away Hale’s concern and whispered, “It’s fine.”
Hale frowned. “Rayne, if you need to change, they’ll wait.”
I didn’t want to cause any more delays. I also didn’t want anyone to hear that I was such a hot mess I could put a thong on backwards.
“No. I’m good. Let’s do this.” Before he could argue, I headed down the narrow hall, the lace thong of my panties flossing my vagina with every step.
The photographer was a man named Viktor who took his job very seriously and spoke in a thick Russian accent. In his black wool turtleneck and pants, he looked exactly as a photographer should look in my opinion.
It was a lot of awkward posing and requests for unusual expressions. Apparently, smiling wasn’t en vogue anymore. I tried my best to follow the photographer’s instructions and take this seriously because the last thing I wanted was another picture of me looking like Hale’s embarrassing sidekick, but there was a string chafing my clit, expectations made me sweat, too much direct attention gave me the shakes, and these five-inch heels weren’t made for functionality. So overall, I think I looked like a nervous pickpocket with a glandular problem.
