I was used to models who wanted to be taken care of and worshiped, who only ate fresh, healthy meals to keep lean, something Asa clearly didn’t do as much. I wondered if he worked off the food he ate, though it wasn’t something I was willing to ask him yet. Maybe later we could sweat together in my personal gym.
I would love to see him glistening.
He dipped the spoon into his ice cream before placing it between his sweet, pink lips, closing his eyes as he sucked it off the utensil. He moaned, and my cock twitched at the sound. He relished the dessert like it was better than an orgasm and it was hard to keep my eyes off the way he twirled his tongue around the tip of the spoon.
Was he purposely teasing me? Surely not.
When he opened his eyes and smiled, I couldn’t help but return it. Oh yeah, he definitely was. This was going to be a long night... and tomorrow would be an even longer flight. I couldn’t wait. If he wanted to play, I would be happy to keep pace because I enjoyed a good game, and I was going to give it back as good as he gave it.
The fun was just beginning.
4
ASA
“Okay, sweet pea, walk to the bottom of the stairs, then look over your shoulder. Give me a few different facial expressions as you walk. I want some pop in that step. It shows up on film. Don’t be lazy!”
Giselle was a photographer who was a hotter-than-sin model back in the eighties, and now she was one of the all-around best in the business. I was learning so much and would never have another opportunity like this.
She was also killing me and working me into the ground, but I was trying to stay positive. As I walked toward the elegant black marble grand staircase, she critiqued. “Shoulders back, chin higher, that’s it. Smolder at me over your shoulder!” Her voice echoed off the ceiling that was about thirty feet above us and the white chandelier shimmered, casting a dazzling glow all around the room, which was augmented by lights angled in our direction.
Giselle wasn’t the only one taking photographs. She had two other women with her also snapping shots, and they paced me. I had to stop myself from watching them. The first day Giselle had lambasted me and told me to treat the girls “like they were lamps.” One man was shooting video footage and I had no idea why.
It was the second day in this gorgeous Southampton mansion owned by Ruslan Kozlova, and I’d seen every square inch of it twice because we were shooting “wherever the light was best” or any place Giselle’s whims took her. We’d been inside in the kitchen, library, barroom, movie theater, and here in the entrance hall. We’d been outside, too, and for one terrifying hour I’d even balanced on a railing of a third-floor terrace while staring at the sun in my boxers. She’d had me put one foot on my knee and lean against a pillar.
I’d nearly bought the farm on that one because I’d been a wobbling mess, but she’d eventually gotten the shots she’d wanted.
The work had been relentless, and I wasn’t sure how anyone ever kept up this pace. I’d never been an exclusive model—the only one working on a clothing line. I wasn’t sure one person doing an entire campaign was even something that had ever been done anywhere. I nibbled my bottom lip, and Giselle squealed like a teenager.
“Yes, do that! Do it!” I winked at her as she raced to my side with her camera, and she laughed, tossing her waist-length red hair off her shoulder with a flick of her head. My heart jolted, and I fought not to yawn. I was so fucking exhausted. We’d been at this since six in the morning, and I was pretty sure it was getting close to six in the evening, but Giselle, despite being a lot older than me, had the energy of three people and wasn’t showing signs of getting winded.
“Go up!” She pointed at the staircase, and I dutifully nodded.
I walked upward and after a few steps, I stumbled, catching myself on the railing. What if I couldn’t do this? After a very nice flight to New York City sitting next to Ruslan, I’d been tossed into work immediately, even though we weren’t supposed to start until Monday. Once Giselle and the clothes were all in one spot, there was no stopping her—I’d been swept along in her riptide of enthusiasm.
Last night the money for the contract had shown up in my bank account with so many zeroes I could nearly weep over it, but what if I couldn’t hack it? Would I have to give all that cash back? It was too much to think about.
“Stop and face us! Pout! I want a pout! Someone stole your favorite shirt! Your favorite man! Make it dramatic!” Giselle laughed as I jutted my lips at her.
“Switch out his glasses! I want the white frames. Move!” A thin girl, in a long skirt and crop top with spiral curls that jiggled with each step she took, sprinted up the stairs holding one of my other pairs of glasses, and I traded the ones I had on my face for those. Until I saw they had purple frames, I didn’t remember which ones I’d even been wearing because we’d been at this so long.
Ruslan strolled in through the left side of the double front doors, and I watched him arrive with the pout firmly on my lips because I was pretty sure Giselle wouldn’t be impressed with me if I broke the pose because a hot man arrived on scene. He was as tall as I remembered. My stomach heated as I perused his large body wrapped up in an exquisite suit that made his shoulders look hard.
He’d flirted with me on the flight and drive here and still managed to remain a perfect gentleman. Most guys couldn’t make it through a single drink before they asked my preferences in bed. He seemed like he really wanted to invest time into me. I almost felt spoiled and definitely a little overwhelmed just thinking about how different he’d been from most of the men who’d hit on me in the last year after my modeling really took off.
He hadn’t turned into a monster once we’d arrived at his palace, either. I’d half expected his good behavior to vanish when we were on his home turf—literally—but he’d backed off to let me work. My heart pounded faster as a horrible thought struck me.
“Yes! I love that! Keep that version of the pout!” Giselle called.
Did he decide he didn’t want to date a model?One dinner and a flirty flight didn’t mean much in our world. He could’ve banged six other guys since the last time I’d seen him. Of course, I didn’t get that player vibe from Ruslan.
I’m the only model on this project, though.
Would he get into some sort of trouble if he scared me off?
Didn’t businesses have boards and stuff?
How does any of that work?
