Iris Blaire - Dark Frame

My face flushes hot as Jaime says, “You told her about that ?”

“Just another damn good guess,” I hiss between my teeth. And then, to get back at Evan, I turn to Jaime and ask, “Do you want to watch Evan and Dallas have sex?”

Evan

I guess it’s better with Jaime the room. Not like I’m loving the fact of this being on display, but I think that Britain feels less cornered.

“I’m going to try to be as graceful as possible with this,” Britain says as she fiddles with her camera. “And hopefully I won’t catch any penetration.”

“Just do what you have to,” I respond, sitting on the edge of the bed in a robe. We chose the unused suite at the end of the third floor for this. The room is creepy enough to speak for itself, and I can tell why it wasn’t used to house any of us in.

There’s bondage shit everywhere.

Chains and ties hang low enough from the canopy frame to hold partners hostage, and the bed itself is covered in black satin sheets. Just the sight of it doesn’t help my nerves at all. I feel like I’m going to puke.

Maybe this isn’t such a good idea. In fact, I know this isn’t a good idea. Part of me wants to force myself to believe that I’m doing this for Britain, but I know that my motives are much more selfish than that.

Aren’t the gender roles reversed, here? Isn’t it the guy who is supposed to be throwing around trickery to get into the girl’s pants while the girl wants to wait for the right, meaningful moment? Especially considering that I broke up with Dallas because our relationship was too sexual. I should be harnessing the urge to fuck his brains out.

Dallas is still in makeup, so while Britain is fiddling with the lighting, I pace the floor in the hopes that the mild distraction will ease my twisting stomach. Jaime, who’s sitting in the armchair in the corner of the room, catches me on my third time around. He stands and rubs the back of his head. “Hey, can I talk to you?”

I shrug and follow him out of the room and into the hallway. He’s incredibly attractive, I realize, but totally not Britain’s type at all. She usually goes for slender, intellectual-looking men. Jaime is two-hundred pounds of muscle.

“You’re okay with me sitting in, right?”

“It’s not a problem,” I respond. “As long as you don’t go blabbing your big mouth about how you got to watch me and Dallas do it.”

His raises an eyebrow. “My big mouth?”

“You look the type to have a big mouth. Speaking of which, that also goes for talking to anyone about how you got to fuck the photographer.”

“I would never…”

“I mean it, dude.” I clench my fists. “I will end you.”

To my surprise, he chuckles. “You’re pretty protective of her, aren’t you?”

“It’s a best friend’s duty to be protective.”

“Well, since you’re her best friend, I’ll let you in on a little secret.” He looks around and steps closer. “The reason I want to stand in today isn’t because I want to watch you two.”

“You want to watch Britain,” I finish. “You get off on watching her get off while she photographs, essentially.”

“She only gets really excited when she’s photographing you. I’m surprised you two haven’t…”

I raise my eyebrows incredulously. “What? Fucked?”

“Well, yeah.”

I snort. “We have a mutual sexual relationship that doesn’t involve touching. It’s nice.”

“A voyeur and an exhibitionist,” he muses.

“We’re both still pretty closet about it, I suppose. And by the way, it isn’t only me.” I give his body an intense glance up and down. “I got it out of her that she couldn’t walk straight after the shoot with you and Adam.”

He grins. “I’ll have to keep that in mind.”

Our conversation is cut off when Dallas walks down the hall in nothing but lounge pants. The tips of my fingers and toes grow numb. His body has become even more beautiful in the months that we’ve been separated, every muscle immaculately defined. He catches me staring and I flush and look away. What the hell is wrong with me? I’ve straight-up licked his chest on multiple foreplay occasions, and now I can’t even look at him.

Maybe it’s because that, even after our little make out session last night, we’re technically still separated. Maybe it’s because he’s about to take me in front of an audience.

Or maybe, it’s because he doesn’t really want to do this.

It’s not like he doesn’t want to have sex with me. It’s that he wants to wait to have meaningful sex with me. He wants to prove himself.

What he doesn’t know is that he already proved himself when he told me that he begged A.J. to fly him out. And when we kissed on the bed last night, it was like nothing could be better than kissing.

But I’m not going to tell him that. The fact that he looks every bit nervous as I do helps me relax. In fact, for some reason, it’s kind of arousing.

“Err… I’ll let you two… talk,” mumbles Jaime before ducking back into the bedroom.

“Hi,” I say to Dallas as he approaches, trying desperately to keep my eyes off of his body.

“You ready?” he asks.

I swallow, untying my robe to let it fall apart just enough to expose the bra that Britain picked out for this shoot. Black, strapless, and push-up, it fits me like a glove, giving me a sultry amount of cleavage.

I watch as Dallas’s eyes flicker to my breasts, and a jolt of pulsing energy explodes at my core. Oh my God, I’m totally an exhibitionist.

“Don’t get too tied up in wanting to make meaningful love,” I say, stepping toward him and raising myself on my tiptoes. I whisper against his neck. “Have fun with me.”

Suddenly his hand presses against the small of my back, pulling me close to him roughly. He grips my jaw between his index finger and thumb, forcing me to look straight into his piercing, icy eyes.

He leans in until his mouth is barely brushing mine. “I’ve come to terms with it,” he murmurs. “I’m ready to fuck you senseless in front of an audience.” I feel the corners of his lips turn up in a grin. “But that doesn’t mean that I can’t also make meaningful love to you too.”

I suck in a breath of air as my body crumbles and attempts to recuperate. Suddenly, it clicks. This is what our relationship is based off of. Sexual careers. It might not be normal—hell, the eyes of the world may not even see it as healthy, but that doesn’t mean we loved each other less than an average couple.

They were never just photo shoots. It was never just sexual energy.

I break away from him, and without saying anything, turn around and walk back into the room, letting my robe drop to the floor.

“We’re ready,” I tell Britain, who stands on a box by the foot of the bed, still fussing with her camera.

She glances at me and then at Dallas. “Well then, let’s get this show on the road.” She points to the bed and we both climb on top of it. “This shoot is going to be a little bit different than others. I’m not going to direct you at all. I’m not even going to speak. Just try to forget about me and stay involved with each other. Keep in mind the position of your bodies and try to stay as open as possible, and I’ll do my best to stay classy and not… well, you know.” She snaps a few sample shots of me as I look up at her. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t be kinky.”

I glance at Dallas. His expression is dark and near-unreadable. It reminds me of our very last shoot together, when he pulled me over his knees and spanked me. And how much I enjoyed it—my ass searing as his fingers slipped between my legs, all in front of the camera.