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Lacey is slow about pushing herself to a seated position. Her expression gets sheepish as her eyes meet mine. "I'll get out of your way."
Her cheeks flush.
Her eyes go to the floor.
She must know she's not in my way. Not even fucking close. Damn, she's cute when she blushes. Maybe I have a thing for innocent women, but my head is filling with all sorts ideas about introducing this girl to pleasure.
Her dark, messy hair frames her face in a way that brings out her brown eyes.
Those eyes are expressive. And right now they're screaming I want you.
I tell myself to shake it off. Lacey is my colleague. Fucking a colleague is a bad idea. And I don't let my cock talk me into stupid decisions.
It's good she's leaving.
Even if my body is still whining.
Slowly, Lacey pushes off the bed and moves to Danielle. They whisper something that gets Lacey letting out a nervous laugh.
The makeup girl looks to them. "Danielle, can I please, please, please borrow Lacey for half an hour. I want to give her a night look."
"Only if I get to do something fun with her after," Danielle says. Her voice isn't irritated the way it was earlier. It's amused.
Lacey clears her throat. "That's more than enough time in front of the camera."
"But you looked good in his bed." Danielle turns to me. "What do you say, sweetheart? You want to make this a threesome?"
"I prefer one woman at a time," I say.
Danielle's expression is something between incredulous and full out please, don't lie to me. I know it's supposed to be the dream—two women at the same time. But I've had enough of that particular flavor of fantasy.
"Okay, one at a time." Danielle chuckles. "First the sweet one, then the experienced one." She nods to the model. "Have you two met? Mal, this is Sandy. Sandy, this is Mal."
The model nods hello then she goes back to staring at her fake nails.
She's not going to be fun.
That's for the best. My cock can't take any more stimulation.
I watch the makeup girl and Danielle negotiate for who gets Lacey. Eventually, Danielle sends the two of them away. They scamper to the bathroom down the hall.
And then the sweet brunette is gone.
And the day is back to being yet another responsibility.
You don't grow up thinking you'll complain about rolling around a bed with a stacked model, but here I am.
I push it aside.
This is my job. It's a weird fucking job, but it's still a job. That means doing shit I don't want to do.
I plaster on a neutral expression and shift back into character.
This is terrible.
It's not the model. It's not me. It's us.
We don't have chemistry.
