Reluctant Substitute (excerpt)

Title : Reluctant Substitute

Release date : Available now (purchase link under "Books" heading)

EXCERPT ...

I wandered off in a confused daze, pulling on the edge of the robe to drag it off the chair, with a frown creasing my forehead. I didn’t even bother to put the robe on when I pulled the door of the studio open, and made my way back down to the wardrobe room, still trying to figure out my unusual response to his quietly spoken words of praise. What in the fuck is wrong with me?

I plucked the next outfit off the rack, and audibly sighed. Fishnets---again?---without any bows this time---instead, a thick seam running up the back with just plain lace tops, stretchy, to hold them in place---a petite little G-string---with thick patterned lace at the front---lace-edged push-up bra---in the correct size---how in the hell does he know my exact size?---and a delicately thin lace camisole---all items again in black---with an addition of a black pearl bracelet tied around the top of the hanger.

So gloomy in black all the time…doesn’t he like color, or something? Once the items were on, I looked down on my cleavage---which was way more ample than normal given the push up bra I was wearing. The camisole did very little to cover the inviting plumpness of my creamy flesh, cushioned so softly over the outside lace edge of the cups.

When I made my way back to the studio, and pushed the door open, the first thing that caught my eye was the plush white sheepskin still on the floor in front of the flaming faux fire. But the low line coffee table, with the lit candle, and the wine filled crystal glasses, had been removed.

“Alison---I need you to lay down---on your back this time,” he instructed.

My mouth opened to cut him off, an automatic denial ready, and waiting, to leave my lips, but Jaxon held his hand up, halting my rebuttal.

“I guarantee your anonymity---the shot I’m aiming for will only reveal from your shoulders, down to your knees.”

Narrowing my eyes suspiciously, I didn’t know if I believed him, or not, but I did as he instructed, and laid down in a supine position on the rug. God, it’s so soft. I wriggled my shoulders a little, snuggling them against the lavish white fleece, while a small sigh of enjoyment left my lips.

“Can you transfer the bracelet from your right arm, to your left?” Jaxon asked crisply. He waited, while I did. “Good---now I want your left arm across the front of your body, and your hand to loosely grasp around the top of your right elbow---just sort of rest it there---don’t actually grip it.”

He leaned over me, and I suddenly found it harder to breathe. The hairs stood up along my forearms, and my skin goosed up like a freshly plucked turkey, when his warm fingertips rolled the black pearl bracelet further up, until it rested just beneath my left elbow. Kneeling on the floor next to me, his knee brushed along the outside of my upper thigh, diverting my brain into painting a more carnal picture when he spoke softly in my ear.

“Now I want your right hand tucked in the lace top of the fishnet on your left thigh.”

I felt my face heating, while my arm moved fluidly to reach across my body, tucking my hand in under the lacy top of the fishnet thigh high. The steady rhythmic pulsating action that was teasing behind my clit, became more prominent when I settled my warm palm down on the top of my thigh, and the thoughts running rampant through my head suddenly turned my hand, into his.

For Christ’s sake, Ali, stop it---get a fucking grip, I berated myself. It’s business---that’s all. My face heated even further, and the enticing pulse behind my clit ratcheted up a few notches, when his strong fingers wrapped gently, but firmly, around my wrist. He slowly moved my hand around to my inner thigh beneath the netting.

“Bend this leg up slightly,” Jaxon smiled invitingly.

At the same time, he tapped my left inner thigh with his index finger, right at the upper edge of my hand---which was temptingly close to my pussy---and I brought my leg up a little.

“Perfect,” he purred, and my stomach clenched as a delicious fire ignited in the depths of my belly, and a lancing jolt of pure need shot through my core, like a bolt of lightning.

I inhaled a rapid gasp when his fingers gripped the thin straps of the camisole over my shoulders. He sensually slid them half way down my upper arms. Then, I held my breath altogether when he yanked the camisole top down to nestle snuggly underneath the bottom edge of the push up bra, exposing my soft, swollen mounds, and my overly-abundant cleavage.

“Perfect,” he purred quietly again.

My heart began to hammer inside my chest when I saw his gaze linger on my burgeoning flesh. I almost released a ravenous moan when my mind’s eye conjured up an image of his mouth descending---a vivid scene playing out, imagining his red-hot lips closing over the rosy tips of my aching, and hardening, nipple. I was finding it extremely hard to stem the pleasurable sigh that almost left my lips when that steamy thought flittered through my head.

Oh, for fuck’s sake Ali, get your mind away from playing out carnal acts with your really hot boss. Jaxon leaned over in my line of sight, and winked wickedly down at me, taking me completely by surprise.

“Let’s see if we can capture that beautiful red flush of arousal tinging your flesh in the image,” he whispered suggestively.

My eyes closed tightly from embarrassment, and my face was burning hotly. Jesus H Christ. Jaxon rose effortlessly to his feet with a deep, but quiet, chuckle. Andre moved in with the tripod, dragging a sturdy chair behind him. He stood up on the seat of it, and angled the camera downward to capture a few shots from above, before he nodded at Jaxon.

“We’re done with this one, Alison. You can go, and get changed into the next garment.”

Only in one position wearing this outfit? It left me wondering if I inadvertently did something wrong, while I snatched the flimsy robe from off the back of the chair on my way to do the door. I absently threaded my arms through the sleeves, before I shrugged it up over my shoulders, and pulled the two halves together on my way down the corridor.

When I approached the rack in the wardrobe department, and reached out to pluck the next outfit off, my eyes widened, and my hand came to a complete standstill, elevated in mid-air. What in the fuck is the crop for?

With nervous fingers, I grasped the hanger. My eyes were glued to the plaited black leather handled crop that was looped over the hook, weighing down the hanger.

This better be just a fucking prop, I thought, while I took it off the hook, and placed it on the floor. My attention returned to the outfit on the hanger. Hmm---I really like these stockings. They were a sheer flesh color, with music notes printed in black running up the length of the back, in place of a seam. The panties, bra, and garter all matched---some sort of leopard print on all pieces, with all of the items edged in black. With the bra, and garter on, I stepped into the panties, and pulled them up.

Holy shit. They were not normal panties. They felt weird, and I turned around to look over my shoulder at my image in the full length mirror, along one wall of the change-room. Jesus. The scalloped upper edge of the back of the panties curved downward---like a very deep V shape---which revealed almost the whole length of my ass crease, with a little bow tied at the very center in the point.

Way too much of my ass was on show, and a scowl furrowed my brow, while I pulled on the wrist length black gloves that came with the outfit.

I threw the curtain open, and stomped over to the wall of shoes, selecting a pair of stilettos that had black heels, and toes, with sparkly silver side panels. When I stalked over to the door, I suddenly remembered the crop I dropped on the floor of the change-room, and with a huff, I returned to collect it, before I stormed out of the room, and power-walked up to the studio, absently striking the side of my left leg with the crop.

When I burst unceremoniously through the studio door, both heads spun around in my direction. The curling up of Jaxon’s lips only served to irritate me even more. I opened my mouth, ready to tell him in no uncertain terms that the damned crop still absently tapping against my leg, wasn’t going to be used on me in any sort of photograph.

He halted me with one simple, but undeniably authoritative, glare, and my mouth slowly closed, the heated words I wanted to say, immediately choking up in the back of my throat.

“Unless you do want me to use that on you, wipe that crabby look off your face,” he demanded with a raised brow.

He pinned me with his unwavering cyan gaze, as if challenging me---or daring me---to push him. A fleeting thought passed through my head to do exactly that---then I pressed my lips together to resist the temptation of uttering a retort---instinctively realizing he meant every word he said. I silently vowed never to use a crop on any horse I rode in the future, mentally apologizing to any I used one on in the past.

“Good girl.”

Fucking hell---why do those two words uttered like warm dripping honey in his dead-sexy voice, make me glow from the inside out, and seem to have a direct link straight to my pussy?I

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