Luster (2 page)

W
ell I’ll be damned
. I didn’t think it was possible to make Miss Morrissey flush any more than I already have. A nice shade of pink I have to say—especially across her chest. Of course that’s the whole point.

It’s fun watching how she’s unable to look away from my cock. But then again, I guess if I were her I wouldn’t be able to look away either.

I can tell she’s trying to form some sort of response here, but I decide to cut her off. “What? You’ve seen a dick before, right?”

Despite her lack of words, she manages to arch an eyebrow at me, pursing her lips. “Of course. But that makes no difference. You certainly didn’t have to drop your pants just to prove your point.”

It’s hard not to laugh as I take in the red splotches on her cheeks and the way she’s standing stock-still, willing herself to look anywhere else but at me. She has no idea, does she? I can see it in her eyes… that sheen of innocence that I’m ready to devour. Something about her is striking me just right.

It may have a lot to do with the fact that she has the sexiest pair of legs I’ve ever seen in my life. As many women as I have seen naked, Falyn Morrissey’s amazing pair of stems outshines them all. They’re peeking at me from under her brown trench coat, toned and sleek. Smooth and silky. It makes me wonder what else she’s got hiding up under there.

I lean against one of the center beams in my studio, still smirking at the way she’s trying so hard not to stare below my waist. “Like I was saying. There’s nothing wrong with admiring the simple architecture of the human body. You seem to have no trouble doing so yourself.”

Miss Morrissey bites her lip, drawing my attention to how full and luscious her mouth is. It takes center stage on her beautifully framed face, and even I have a hard time pulling my eyes away from it.

“Can we please get back to business here? I still have questions to ask you if you don’t mind.”

Ah, back to business already then? I should’ve figured. This daddy’s princess obviously doesn’t play well with others. At least when it comes to others screwing up her plans. I’m dealing with a complete control freak here.

Yet somehow… I don’t hate it.

I shrug my shoulders, not really caring one way or the other. I loathe doing interviews to be honest, and I think this is all for show. I know she just wants me to sign the damn contract so she can get the hell out of here. I don’t blame her or anything, but I think I’d like to keep her around a little longer. But I play by my own rules. Not hers.

“Questions. Like what kind of questions? I’ve got a few for you, too.”

“For starters, I’d like to know the answer to the question I’ve already asked you. Where do you draw your inspiration from? And don’t give me some ridiculous answer. Give me the real truth. From the heart…if you even have one.”

She mumbles the last sentence but right away Miss Morrissey covers her mouth, looking horrified. “I’m so sorry Mr. Walsh, er, Matt. I don’t know where that came from.”

I try to hold back the laugh building up inside, my shoulders shaking with the effort. God, this chick is sprung so tight! Why does she care what others think about her so badly?

“No worries. I’m an asshole and everyone knows it. It’s not like it’s news or anything. You want the truth? Art is something I enjoy. But I was kind of bored just drawing something and leaving it at that, so I decided to shake things up and learned more about metal sculpting. There you go. Bada-bing, bada-boom. Instant artist.”

My answer seems to suffice and Miss Morrissey—Falyn that is—visibly relaxes. “Okay then. Thank you for that,” she replies, making some notes on the little clipboard she brought in with her.

While she’s looking down I get a better chance to check her out myself, pleased with what I’m seeing. While Falyn is clearly an uptight kind of girl, she has no problem dressing in a way to attract attention to herself. That trench-coat? Pulled tightly in at the waist, leaving ample space up at the top to show off her sweet rack. She’s wearing some sort of deep v-neck shirt or sweater because I’m able to get a very good glimpse at the tanned and freckled cleavage she is proudly displaying.

Damn. I really do need to get a hold myself here. Most chicks don’t throw me off my shit like this, but there’s something about her… Nah—I need to keep my head in the game here. This is supposed to just be business after all. I need to make my money, and I need to make it fast.

To keep myself in line I try to venture back onto the path of being the irritatingly handsome bastard that I am. “So you
have
seen some dick. Good to know. Virgins aren’t really my type, anyway.”

She pauses for a minute, glancing up from her writing. “And why would it matter whether I was your type or not? Who said you were mine?”

She continues writing and I grin just knowing that I’m getting under her skin. “Oh, I’m your type all right. You good girls love the bad boy types. It’s in your DNA or something.”

She’s rolling her eyes at me, but I can tell I’m not truly pissing her off. Maybe she’s even considering what I’m saying.

Falyn looks back up, ready to get to round two of the question game. Okay, so how the hell else am I supposed to draw this out?

No, Matt. You’re not drawing shit out. You need this money, and you need it now. Remember that.

But something starts flickering in my head, swirling around like the crazy madness that consumes me when I’m elbow-deep in metal shavings. I can see Falyn now, lying on one of my posing chairs, looking up at me while I’m drawing her. Her and those damn fine legs of hers.

I’m speaking before thinking now, my mouth moving at a rate that should be physically impossible. “So I got a deal for you, if you’re game. I know you’ve got more things to ask me, and I know you’re trying to get this contract as quickly as possible. And let’s face it, I need the exposure. And the money ain’t bad, either. So I’ll play ball with you, but you gotta be willing to work for it.”

This time she does roll her eyes at me, crossing her arms carefully across her ample chest. I tear my gaze away from how she’s pushing her tits up so that they’re practically spilling out.

Fuck. My cock’s seriously starting to throb now. That should be enough to convince me to tone it down, but I’m just getting started.

“What are you going on about? What kind of deal? We already have a deal. I ask you a few questions for our press release…”

I hold my hand up to stop her. “Yeah, yeah. I know all that. But I’ve got a new plan of action for you to consider.”

She purses her lips, listening.

I take in a deep breath, wishing I could just go ahead and begin stroking myself now. The more I look at her legs, the more that I look at how her tits are just begging for me to reach out and squeeze them…

Well, it’s clear to anyone in the room that I’m interested in what’s going on under that coat of hers. And of course she pretends not to notice. My cock slowly rising to full-mast isn’t something that’s easy to ignore, either.

“You want answers. And I want a model. Specifically, I want you to model for me. I’ve got to hand it to you, Falyn, your legs are amazing and I’m dying to get an art piece done up of them. It would be a damn shame not to.”

She gasps, clearly not expecting what I’m offering her. “Are you serious?” Her voice is low and soft—breathless even. It sends a chill up my spine. Oh yeah, she’s interested.

C
learly this man
is not sane. I guess I should’ve figured it out the moment he yanked his pants down revealing his rather impressive length. But seriously? Me?
A model?

That’s how I know he’s totally insane.

But he’s just standing there grinning from ear to ear, looking like the cat that got the mouse. And I’m guessing he thinks I’m the mouse.

I squeeze my legs together, preventing even the tiniest glance up my dress. I just know that’s where his line of thought is. His dick is fully erect, yet Matt isn’t the least bit worried about it.

He’s more concerned about my legs, given how his eyes are glued on me. I have to admit… I’m kind of flattered. Okay… maybe I’m completely flattered. It’s not every day you hear someone like him giving you a compliment like that.

He
did
say that he thinks my legs are sexy. I mean they’re okay, I guess. I’ve never really given much thought to them quite honestly. I do keep them shaved and moisturized like I should, which may be why… shit.

This was what he was wanting to do in the first place! He wants to distract me from what’s at hand here. And dammit, he was pretty close to succeeding, the smart jerk.

I stand up, trying to come off as confident in what I’m about to say. “And why would I model for you, Matt? Clearly all you think about is sex. Or being naked for that matter. I’m assuming you’re wanting me to just completely forget about the fact that we’re professionals here, and take off all my clothes for you,” I say with one hand on my hip. I laugh nervously though, shaking my head. “You must know that I would never do that. With my name comes a certain reputation if you will. I’m not about to mar that just to be another one of your cover girls.”

Matt bursts out laughing, the sound deep and thrumming. My ears go hot as he quirks his mouth to the side, trying to stop himself.

“As much as I’d love to address the fact that you sound like an old lady clutching her pearls, I have to say I’m somewhat disappointed. Getting a woman like you to pose for me is one challenge I’d love to take on.”

I purse my lips together, wishing I could just drop through a hole in the floor. I’m not used to being treated like a child—especially by a client. And I know Matt’s words should be rolling right off my back but for some reason they’re cutting too close to the surface. I really need to keep it together long enough to get our work done here.

The way Matt has me so tensed up, all I can think about is the hot bath and glass of wine waiting for me at home. It’s like he went to school to become an expert at antagonizing others.

“I’m most certainly
not
clutching any pearls. I just have standards is all. And apparently a hell of a lot more business sense than you do, seeing as you pretty much just asked me to get naked so you can draw me. This isn’t the Titanic, and you’re not Leonardo Di Caprio. No, you cannot draw me like one of your French girls,” I say, gesturing the assortment of nudity displayed on his studio walls.

Much to my dismay, Matt’s still leaning up against the beam like he’s some sort of rogue predator tracking his prey. With his arms folded and his dick still standing at attention it’s difficult not to admire his… form. But I try my hardest not to.

“If that was supposed to offend me, you did a terrible job. And no, you’re not going to be just some cover model, Falyn. I’m actually trying to pull you out of that little cage you keep yourself locked inside. I can see you in there, you know. I
do
see you—a beautiful woman hell-bent on making herself known. Living a life where every single detail needs to be planned and perfectly executed no matter how small. Where you have to be on your most excellent behavior at all times. I kind of feel bad for you… that shit must get old.”

The words hit home like he means them to, but I shake them off. Oh, so he thinks he knows me, does he? He can’t possibly think that line works on women…

“Wow. You must think you’re some sort of modern day Casanova feeding women that kind of poetic bullshit, don’t you?” I smirk back at him, clutching my clipboard tightly. “You’re so right, Matt. I’m just some robotic and naïve woman who thinks she knows everything. But secretly I know nothing about anything, and I also hate sex. How did you
ever
guess? Now, can we please get back to our interview here, maybe even sign the contract? Or do I have to find someone else capable of giving my company what it needs?”

He refuses to budge even an inch from his slouched stance, his eyes lazily roaming from my clipboard in one hand, to where my other hand is placed on my hip. I’ve honestly never met someone who can be so infuriating just standing there looking at me like that!

“Working too hard and never giving into your playful side really messes with you. I can’t imagine being involved with something that uses so much pretense and red tape business shit to cut through that I forget about my life. But I get it now. The way you’re all prim and proper, maybe even disgusted by me. It all makes sense. You either need to get laid or you need to pull that stick out of your ass.”

My face goes slack and I nearly drop my clipboard.
Oh hell no
. “You did not just say that to me.” No way. This isn’t actually happening.

He shrugs his shoulders like he couldn’t care less that he just insulted me. Seriously, who the hell does he think he is? Just standing there like some kind of sex god amongst us mere mortals. His ego’s bigger than the dick that’s swaying out in front of him, and believe me, that’s saying something.

I mean could you at least put your pants back on, for god’s sake? How am I supposed to conduct business with someone when their dick is waggling about?

When he lets out a deeply satisfied chuckle I realize the words weren’t just in my head. Yes. I really did just comment on his dick ‘waggling about.’ Jesus Christ, Falyn.

Smoothing my hair back past my ear I attempt to regain control of the conversation. For the umpteenth time. “Mr. Walsh, do we have a deal or not? Please don’t waste anymore of my time.”

At this, Matt finally stands up straight and gives me another once-over. “I’ve already told you. This is the new deal, and if you want the contract signed and my work in your hotels then you’re going to agree to it.”

He thinks he’s got me right where he wants me and I want to call his bluff so badly, but something inside me says he’s being serious. Despite his aggressive nakedness and openly nonchalant attitude, Matt seems to take his artwork
very
seriously.

Yet again I find myself gaping at him, and I tug my lip between my teeth, trying to think on my feet. It’s not doing me any favors since my concentration is so off-kilter at the moment.

“It looks like you might be considering my offer there, princess. Among other things.”

If my eyes roll back any further I’m going to be looking out the back of my head. “Feel free to stop calling me that any time.” I sigh though, hating that I have to get down on his level. “But you’re right. Crazily enough, I am thinking it over.”

Matt’s obviously a proud guy—in more ways than one—so maybe if I take advantage of that ridiculous ego of his, I can get the best work out of him. And the best work leads to that big seat at the head of the conference table.

And okay, maybe it would feel good to prove to him that I can be just as aloof and casual about sex. I hate that he’s getting under my skin this way, making me feel like some ridiculous prude. But he has, and even though I know I’m caving in here, I’m hoping it will be worth it in the end.

His eyes are trained on me as though I’m the one who’s standing in the middle of the room naked. A shiver runs down my spine and my stomach knots tightly.

It should be illegal for someone to have this kind of power over another.

I draw in a deep breath, calming myself down before I give him my answer. “Okay fine. I’ll model for you. But first… how exactly does it work?”