Picture Perfect Read online

  Yes, it was time to get real…because I was getting ready to be all about the sex.

  But not right this moment. I had this one last hurrah, this one moment where I could feel like a real person for a while. I needed to hold on, enjoy the evening, and use that memory to sustain me through whatever was to come in my deal with the devil.

  “No hurry. The smell of mom’s roast beef was driving me crazy. I’m a few minutes early, but I had to get out of there before I pulled up a chair to the stove and just started chowing.”

  “That good, huh?”

  “Out of this world. And the mashed potatoes…”

  “Okay, I can take a hint. Let me finish dressing.”

  Shane took one of my hands in his. “We have a little time.”

  I paused, knowing I’d been ready to rip that jacket and t-shirt off him the moment he’d walked in the door. Frankly, for an orgasm, I’d be willing to be a few minutes late, especially considering it would probably be the last one I’d have at the hands of a man in a long time. Now that Greg had revealed his true colors and his selfish nature, I somehow doubted—in all the sick scenarios I’d already played out in my mind—he gave two shits how a woman felt in bed.

  Well, how I would feel, at any rate.

  Shit. I had to quit doing that. Tonight was my last hurrah and I had to enjoy it, needed to fully embrace it. So I smiled up at Shane. “Then you might want to take your jacket off.” He didn’t need to be told twice. “And maybe you can help me decide what to wear.”

  The expression on his face told me he wasn’t sure what I was asking, so I backed away a few steps, but I loosened the sash at my waist, letting the robe do its thing. Continuing to walk backward, I ran my finger down my cleavage and grinned at Shane. When he smiled back and took a step toward me, I knew he’d gotten the message. I turned, pulling the robe off my shoulders as I made my way through my bedroom door. By the time I was standing in front of my closet, I was in nothing but those lacy underwear, having tossed the robe on my bed, and Shane entered the room, his jacket and t-shirt in his hand. He dropped them to the floor and approached me, and I turned my head to the open closet door.

  As if he were posing for another book cover, he walked right behind me and pulled me close. Already, his cock was digging into my back and I felt myself respond, closing my eyes and leaning into his rock hard body, turning my head slightly. He wound one hand around my waist so that his fingers teased the elastic waist on my panties; his other hand he brought to the base of my jaw, encouraging me to turn my head more to the side. We kissed then in that position and just the taste of his tongue in my mouth made my juices flow, caused the rivers of desire to run rampant through my body. When he began pulling the bra strap down my shoulder, moving his lips to the other shoulder closer to him, I said, “The dresses are over there.”

  He actually paused, looking up, and said, “How about that red one?”

  I pointed. “That one?”

  “No, the one closer to the middle.”

  “That’s fuchsia, not red.”

  In response, he licked my neck and worked his fingers into the now loose cup of my bra. Teasing my nipple, he whispered, “I think it’d look good on you, no matter what color it is.”

  I couldn’t help arching my back to thrust my breast against his hand. I was ready. “I don’t think I like that dress anymore. The belt always rides up.”

  His lips muttered against my neck. “So don’t wear a belt.”

  “But it looks stupid without it.”

  He removed his lips from my neck—my own damn fault—and then said, “Then the black one next to it.” The fingers of his other hand disappeared underneath the fabric of my panties, and I gasped as he slid his finger down my slit, brushing my overly sensitive clit.

  I closed my eyes but said, “No. That one hugs my body too much.”

  “Then you have to wear it.”

  I wasn’t going to say it aloud, but no way. I was meeting his parents—and I already felt a little dirty. I didn’t want to go full slut tonight. There’d be plenty of time for that later—when I was doing it to save my career.

  My mood threatened to die with that thought, but Shane was swirling his finger in my wetness now, rubbing my clit until my breathing grew shallow. His cock digging into my back was about to drive me insane. I thrust my fingers into that soft hair and we kissed again, the angle not feeling as awkward as before. By instinct, I began grinding into his finger, ready to let loose.

  “Not yet,” he said, removing that amazing finger, leaving me desperate and on the verge of whimpering. I felt his fingers on my hips then before he pulled my panties down. In obedience, they slid to the floor once he released them halfway down my thigh. I heard him pull his zipper down and, shortly after, he splayed his right hand over my belly before pulling me into his body. The way his cock pressed into my back made it feel like he was made of steel. Oh, I needed this man inside me. I shimmied my backside a little in response, but he slid his hand down again, fulfilling his unspoken promise.

  He adjusted himself behind me, positioning his cock against my ass while his finger began to work its magic again. I loved the direct stimulation on my clit, but I wanted to feel him fill me up, too, and I knew that angle would make me feel like I was ready to explode. I pressed my ass into him and bent at the waist. Then I shoved my ass out, making it impossible for him to continue his finger play. I turned my head to look up at him, and I didn’t need to say a word. I saw it on his face. He bent over to fetch his wallet out of the jeans bunched against his calves and in seconds was rolling a condom over his cock. I bit my lip, anticipating the way he would feel sliding into my wetness.

  His hands on my hips felt like heaven as he bent his knees to get the right angle. In that position, I didn’t need to spread my legs wide, just enough for him to find entry. And when he did, I relished that initial foreign feeling, that sensation of fullness. I moaned as he began driving into me with a slow rhythm. As I sensed my muscles growing taut in response once again, I slid my fingers between my legs, needing to finish what Shane had started. My fingers found my clit and swirled against it, sending a jolt of fresh tension through my nerves. Another thrust of Shane’s throbbing cock into my warmth followed by my fingers teasing my most sensitive spot shot me close to climax. I could feel the heady rush of chemicals preparing to release themselves throughout my body, almost like leading a racehorse to the gate and preparing it to begin bolting down the track. It was then that I noticed my breath coming in shallow gasps, my thighs quivering in desperation.

  And then it happened, my brain exploding as my entire body enjoyed the beginning of an amazing orgasm. “Oh, Shane,” I cried as another wave of pleasure crashed over my body like a waterfall.

  He thrust hard then, pulling me close to him, and his rhythm sped up temporarily before slowing and then he released. He made a sound of pleasure but held completely still, holding me at the hips like he had been until the moment of pure bliss and complete release had passed. Like me, I was sure he felt spent, so I didn’t move for a bit until I felt him pulling out.

  I shuddered, feeling suddenly empty but tired and happy. I stood and stepped out of my panties, thinking it wouldn’t be appropriate to meet his family for the first time with my underwear likely smelling of sex. “I wonder if my mom would have a cow if we just took a nap and didn’t show up.”

  Grinning, I walked over to my dresser, pulling open the drawer that held panties and bras. “Think of your mom’s awesome roast beef. You don’t want leftovers, do you?”

  As he pulled the condom off his softened cock, he said, “Damn. You know right where to hit me, don’t you?”

  I started laughing then, sliding a fresh pair of panties up my legs. The giddiness was immediately followed with a pang of guilt as I remembered my meeting with Greg earlier that day, thinking about a man’s heart and his stomach. God…I’d have to tell Shane soon, but I didn’t want to ruin the moment.

  Especially because he pul
led me into another embrace and kissed me like the rest of the world was falling away.

  * * *

  I had that niggling obligation weighing heavily on my brain throughout the meal that night, but I allowed myself to enjoy the moment. I’d been a little tense, knowing how possessive moms can be of their sons. My one super serious relationship near the end of my undergrad days had come to a screeching halt thanks to my boyfriend’s mother, so I knew meeting the matriarch of the family would be a make-or-break moment.

  I passed, though. The jury seemed out throughout most of the meal, but I listened mostly to the lively conversation amongst the entire family, laughing at appropriate moments and answering small questions here and there. I could tell immediately that I’d won over his grandma and father, but his mom was hard to read. As we neared dessert, though, she asked me about my future plans. The thought instantly brought to mind what would be a year of sexual servitude, but I had to look beyond that. I told her about my college career, how I’d been a student for so long pursuing a PhD, and that was when I saw an eyebrow raise, followed by a matching tilt of one side of her mouth. She was impressed and then began asking me questions about my favorite authors.

  She and I dominated the conversation after that point, and it was lively and animated. I think we wore the rest of the family out, but I offered to help with dishes and the two of us washed and rinsed while Shane dried.

  And it hit me, how I could get used to all this.

  How I was starting to feel something deeper…like, if I continued to see Shane, it would be so easy for me to fall in love with the guy—and with his family.

  Now, though, I sat in his car feeling wistful, knowing I had to tell him. I couldn’t keep putting it off.

  He didn’t even ask to walk me to my apartment. We had already moved to the stage where some things were just understood. And how the hell had that happened, considering we weren’t even at a place where I’d feel comfortable calling him boyfriend?

  But I couldn’t question it. It had happened…and, as we scaled the stairs, I tried to figure out how I’d begin that damned conversation, one whose imminence was making my stomach roil. The heavenly roast beef and mashed potatoes were turning sour in my gut, and I knew I had to just get it over with.

  Outside my door, as I slid the key in the lock, I said, “There’s something I need to tell you.”

  As we walked inside and I flipped the light switch, I saw it on his face. He was expecting something horrible, like I was going to tell him I was pregnant. It only lasted for a split second before he regained his composure, but I could still see it in his eyes. I asked, “Do you want some coffee?”

  He shook his head. “No. This sounds serious. I want to hear what you need to say first.” In spite of his efforts to control himself, his brow was furrowed, causing a crease between his eyebrows.

  His face mirrored how I felt inside. I would have rather spent this time talking about what was happening between us, that emotional, indescribable line we’d crossed over sometime tonight, where I was beginning to feel enamored of him, feel an attachment to him, something deeper.

  Something semi-permanent.

  But if I truly felt that way about him, I owed it to him to be completely honest…even if that meant we were over before we’d begun. I sucked down a deep, shaky breath, trying to figure out how to say what needed to come out. But I couldn’t look him in the eye. Instead, I focused on his shirt, finding my eyes drifting down farther as the words spilled out. “I talked to Greg. Because he knows how my pictures could hurt my career, he’s using them to extort…favors from me.” At the end, I just couldn’t say it. It was too ugly.

  Too unreal.

  “What do you mean?”

  As painful as it seemed, I forced myself to make eye contact. A sigh escaped my lips, seeming to fortify what little courage I had. “I know I told you some of it…but I can’t remember how much. I’d never posed without a bra before—until the time you and I were first together. Even though it was out of the norm, I hadn’t thought much about it until I saw one of those photos on a book cover that was doing pretty well on Amazon. And then I realized if I could find it without trying, anyone could—and those pictures could damage my career before it even starts. As I prepare to defend my dissertation, I also need to begin a serious job hunt. I want to look at prestigious schools too, not confining myself to just what’s around here or something easy to get, based on my connections. And I don’t know how thoroughly those schools vet their candidates. I realize there are already a couple of photos out there that could ruin me, but I talked to Greg and begged him to stop selling the ones without the bra.”

  I couldn’t read Shane’s expression, but he cocked a dark eyebrow over squinted eye. “That was when he asked for a hundred thousand?”

  “Yes…and you know as well as I do that I don’t have that kind of money. And Greg knows it, too. He told me he’s making all kinds of cash off our photographs and so he couldn’t justify pulling them down. And I understand his point.” I swallowed again, wondering why my mouth was watering so much. “But I needed to make him understand mine. At first, I thought I’d just hope and pray those photos never surfaced, but then I realized that’s such a passive thing to do. I need to do everything in my power to make sure that doesn’t happen. So I thought about it for days, scheming, trying to think of the perfect solution. I came up with all kinds of options, like posing—with my bra on—for photos every week for free until I’d paid it off. Or asking him to take down the worst, most suggestive ones and chopping off our heads—at least above the lips—to make us less identifiable.”

  “He didn’t take those offers, either?”

  Shane sensed where this was going. I shook my head. “All I did was expose myself to his predatory nature. He knew then just how desperate I was. And he used it against me.” I looked down again but found myself closing my eyes, as if—like an ostrich—I could shield myself by not seeing. The pause was growing heavy and I knew Shane was going to start asking me questions if I didn’t just spit it out. “So he told me if I had sex with him for the entirety of a year, he’d give me the photographs and release them in writing.” No way was I going to tell him the ugliest part, the words Greg had said that continued to swarm around my brainpan, filling me with horror…the part where he’d said he would “take me in ways I could never imagine” and he’d do it until he was sick of me. I couldn’t even fathom what that meant, but I knew it wasn’t pretty. I knew he’d find a way to make me regret that decision every damn night until I was free.

  As that fresh realization washed over me, I felt a piece of my soul die.

  But I couldn’t let Shane know. I had to be strong. I had to let him know I was going to face this sentence with my head up and my chin out. It was only fair letting him know that I would no longer be available. And, really, did it matter? He was going to be gallivanting all over the country again soon enough. He’d forget about me, find a real model girlfriend, and settle down into the perfect life. Probably by the time I had those photographs and the release in hand and started packing my bags for whatever school would finally take me after waiting half a year to apply, I’d be a distant memory in Shane’s head.

  I knew it was better that way.

  Examining his eyes, I could see defeat. It was like watching a plant shrivel and die, withering in front of my very eyes. “And you agreed to it.”

  “I didn’t have a choice.”

  “There’s always a choice, Ivy.”

  I shook my head and looked down, sensing imminent tears. “Yeah. I could choose to waste my education and instead work at the coffee shop the rest of my life. Oh, and model until my body and face no longer sustain me, and I better hope those last till my student loans are paid off.” I looked up then, feeling a little resentful. It was easy for him to judge—he had a perfect family, a solid vocation, and an old and lucrative career he could run back to anytime he chose. My entire life hung in the balance, my entire future in questi
on.

  His voice was softer then. “So you’re going to do it?”

  I cemented my resolve deep inside, willing back the emotions threatening to consume me. “You might think I have a choice, but I don’t. I’ve exhausted any other potential options.”

  I could see the hurt in Shane’s eyes, too, but then I saw it turn off, like a light fading to black. He was distancing himself from me while I watched, shutting himself off, protecting his heart. I guessed I really couldn’t blame him. “So you’ve already…” He blinked. “Have you already agreed to this? You knew earlier tonight that you were going to do this but let me believe—”

  I shook my head. “I haven’t told him yet—that I agreed to it. I have to go over there tomorrow and negotiate—if that’s even what you’d call agreeing to blackmail.”

  To have said Shane was devastated would have been an understatement. Seeing how he fought his emotions to stay cool and calm told me he’d been feeling about me the same way I’d been feeling about him—and I’d just crushed us. I’d ruined us before we could even start. His jaw rippled but then he forced himself to speak. “Well, then, best of luck, Ivy. I, uh…I hope you have a good life.”

  That was it? After everything, Shane was going to throw away amazing sex and a budding relationship in the blink of an eye? No, I didn’t blame him. Logically, it made perfect sense, but for him to be able to shut himself off like that without a second thought…well, it made me realize that I was doing the right thing. I was the only person I could fully rely on in the world, and I had but to fortify myself to survive the next year intact.

  I relaxed my pursed lips to answer. “You, too, Shane. Best of luck.”

  No hug. No embrace. No apologies.