Chapter Five
Evan
How did I get suckered into this again? Oh yeah—Dallas bribed me.
I watch him as he orders our drinks. His shirt is buttoned all the way up and tucked into his slacks. He smiles politely at the barista—even jokes with her. On the outside, he’s like one of those adorable nerds that all the good, smart, virginal girls go for and all the skankier ones want to corrupt.
But I know what he’s really like. I know so much more.
Actually, the only thing I really don’t know is why the hell he wants to hang out with me so bad, like we’re buddies or something. Like he has a crush on me.
But he can’t have a crush on me, because he has a girlfriend.
Unless he’s one of those assholes who cheats on his girlfriends. But I don’t know. That just doesn’t seem like what I know of him.
“One soy latte,” he says when he returns to our table, setting the drink in front of me.
“Thanks.” I take a sip of it. Perfection.
He sits across from me, the only thing separating us our binders and mountains of textbooks. “So, you a vegan or something?”
“Or something,” I say, taking another sip. “Why do you ask?”
“You ordered a soy latte.”
“I could be lactose intolerant.”
“I always see you drinking those weird green shake things.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Yes, okay, I’m vegan. Does that weird you out?”
His lips shift to a coy smile. “A little.” He sips his drink. “As long as you don’t choke me out for drinking dairy in front of you.”
I shake my head. “I’m not that kind of vegan. You know, the crazy PETA kind. I’m vegan because I have to be.”
“You have to?”
I gesture toward my body. “You think this comes from eating pizza and burgers every day?”
“So, health reasons.”
“More like model reasons,” I correct.
I’d love to say that I’m one of those girls who doesn’t give two shits about society’s warped idea of beauty. Unfortunately, my job is to be naked all of the time. I get paid for giving into media’s trend. For looking “hot.”
“You must cheat though,” Dallas says, folding his hands in front of him like he’s going to spend the next few hours hounding me about my eating choices.
“Of course I cheat.” I open up my textbook. “What kind of human being would I be if I didn’t cheat?”
He just nods and opens up his own textbook, and we both start to read. About a minute later, he speaks up again. “What is your favorite cheat food?”
I glance up from my book and meet his striking eyes. He actually looks interested in my answer. I sigh and put down my pencil. “You really want to know?”
“Why else would I be asking?”
“Half-baked chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream, a side of Flaming Hot Cheetos, and a nice IPA to wash it all down, preferably on the nuttier side.”
He blinks once and bursts into laughter.
“What?”
“You’ve obviously thought about this for a long time.”
“Well yeah, when you’re eating rabbit food you fantasize about the stuff you could be eating a lot. Now wipe that dumb grin off of your face and get to work.”
The fact that he listens to me is kind of thrilling. I like how I still have some kind of power over the guy who corners me in the dressing room like he wants to own me.
It’s kind of like a game. A way to make shooting naked together a little more sexy and less awkward. And I’m all for that, as long as my grades don’t drop.
And the way his eyes are on me now, I can totally see my grades dropping.
I clear my throat and focus on my biology. Surprisingly, Dallas stops asking me questions and directs me toward what chapters I should be reading for the midterm. With the lack of interruption and boost of caffeine, I’m able to get quite a bit of studying done. A lot more than if I were to stay at home.
Finally, when I’m starting to go cross-eyed from terminology, I pack up my textbooks and pull from my bag one of the romance novels that Britain wants me to read so badly. It has a pretty promiscuous cover—a pair of handcuffs on satin sheets. Subtle yet sexy. I start to read. The thing is like crack and before I know it I’m on page fifty and the two main characters have already fucked twice.
“What is your deal?” Dallas asks. “And why did you stop studying?”
“I am studying,” I say. “Just for work now.” When I sigh, I realize I’ve been sighing loudly for the past few minutes. “It’s these books, man. I can’t believe these books turn women on. Naïve virginal girls sucked into the schemes of rich playboys. Not knowing that they like being spanked until they really are spanked. It’s total bullshit.”
Dallas busts up laughing. I realize now that he laughs a lot. The baritone, husky sound of it is beautiful.
“You think it’s funny? These female authors act like they don’t even know what women really want during sex. For fuck’s sake, the narrator in this book gets off by having her nipples played with.”
Dallas’s face suddenly gets very serious. “And you don’t get off when you have your nipples played with?”
“I can’t even get off during sex.” The words escape my mouth before I even realize I’ve said too much. Way too much. I bite down on my bottom lip as punishment and pray that somehow he manages to not comprehend what I’ve just said.
I’m not so lucky.
“Wait,” he says slowly. His eyes narrow and he leans in. “Are you telling me you’ve never had an orgasm during sex?”
“Shh!” I look around to see if anyone’s looking at us.
“Are you telling me you’ve never had an orgasm during sex?” he whispers.
Heat flushes my face, and I know I must be bright red. Keep cool, Evan. You can talk about orgasms. You aren’t twelve. “I—no.”
“Who the hell are you fucking?”
“Dallas!” I hiss.
He actually looks angry, his eyes harboring the hottest kind of fire. “Are you telling me that no guy you’ve ever slept with has had the decency to get you off?” Suddenly a thought occurs to him. “Wait—are you a virgin?”
I sober up. “Dallas… I make porn for a living. Of course I’m not a virgin.”
“Then what the hell is going on with your sex life?”
I open my mouth before I have the words to answer. Actually, I hate to admit it, but EPE has kept me from having a sex life. I can never let guys get too close to me, because the second that they know about my second life, I become an object. I date sweet guys long enough to sleep with them—to have awkward sex—and then grow afraid that they’ll learn who I truly am. That they’ll be mortified by the kind of girl they’ve shared a bed with.
When I first started modeling for EPE, my old boyfriend found out. He thought it was hot, but he also thought that I was into being humiliated in the bedroom—being called a whore and having my head pushed down to his cock because that’s what girls like me enjoyed. He’d seen porn. He thought he knew.
I shake myself out of the memory. Dallas is still staring at me, waiting for an answer. I finally respond with a shrug.
He smiles, and says lowly, “If you’re not into spanking, then what are you into?”
My heart begins to race, pleasure shooting deep into my abdomen. I can’t believe this is turning me on—talking about sex in a public place with a taken man.
“I never said I wasn’t into spanking,” I say. Light dances in his eyes, like he’s drinking in my every movement, my every word. “But I don’t need some billionaire with a six-pack to tell me that. I can decide for myself if I like to be spanked or not.”
“And your decision is….”
“Yeah, sometimes it’s hot. Okay?”
“But you’re obviously not the same kind of creature as the majority of these protagonists,” he says amusedly, leaning back in his seat and crossing his arms. “And if we’re to visually recreate their deepest, darkest desires, then what do you suppose we do?” He looks down at his cup, tracing the coffee-stained lid with the tip of his fingers.
I cross my legs to keep the pressure from building and work to keep my breath as even as possible. “I guess you’re going to have to dominate me.”
His eyes shoot to mine again, wicked and playful and startling blue. Delicious pleasure shoots through my loins and I swear I’m closer to orgasm than I’ve ever been during sex. Just from Dallas looking at me.
“I guess I’m going to have to dominate you,” he responds.