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Reluctant Substitute (excerpt)

  • Writer: Carol Delmornay
    Carol Delmornay
  • Jun 20, 2020
  • 14 min read

Title : Reluctant Substitute


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


EXCERPT ...


“Over here, Alison,” he encouraged with a wicked grin that did nothing other than heat my face, and increase the throb in my burgeoning clit.

There was no sign of the low line glass table. On the marble look-a-like mantle sat two duck-egg-blue colored, tall oval shaped vases---both of which were empty. They were positioned on either side of the large ornate gold mirror fixed firmly on the wall. Two tall cylindrical silver candle holders sat at equal distance apart from the vases, but closer to the middle of the mantle. Again, these were empty vessels.

On the floating floorboards to the left of the imitation flames in the hearth, sat a wicker basket full of plastic logs, made to look like real wood. To the right of the hearth sat some real fire tools hanging from their black, and gold edged rack.

My grip on the plaited handle tightened, while I followed his direction, and walked over to stand in front of the imitation marble fireplace, shooting a less-than-impressed look his way that increased the wry grin on his face, which in turn only served to irritate me even further, and I scowled in response.

“Face the mirror, legs wider than shoulder width apart, right hand resting idly on your hip---and keep the crop in your left hand, but let it just rest against your leg---don’t tap the end of it against it,” he frowned pointedly.

I realized that’s exactly what I was still doing, and stilled my hand, halting the unintentional tapping, immediately. My eyes rolled to the back of my head, and I looked away from him when I saw the amused twinkle in his eyes. Damn him.

“Part your legs a little more, Alison.”

I shuffled them further apart---then worried that the stilettos were going to slide on the highly polished floorboards, and I’d end up doing the splits.

“Perfect,” he bellowed. “Hold still.”

I froze, enduring the bursts of light, and the sound of the camera shutter in rapid succession from behind me. I jumped when I felt his hand touch gently against my shoulder.

“Lachie’s gonna love that shot.” He said it loud enough that I heard him, but soft enough that I was unsure if he meant to say it aloud.

Lachie? How well does he know this bloody client? Are they best buddies, or something?

“You have the most perfect, seductively shaped ass, Alison---the camera absolutely adores your curvaceous lines,” he crooned softly at the back of my ear, and my eyes involuntarily closed, while my neck, and scalp, prickled excitedly.

Oh, Jesus. Whether that reaction was from the heat of his breath caressing down the side of my neck, or the titillating words coming out of his mouth, I had no idea---Most likely a combination of both! For fuck’s sake---concentrate, Ali---it’s just work---nothing more. I took a deep breath, and my eyes sprung open. Be goddamned professional! I quickly dropped my shoulder, and twisted out of his touch.

“Do you need more of me?”

My completely innocent question regarding the outfit I was wearing, took on a whole new meaning when I saw the covetous look in his eyes darken the cyan color of his irises, and his pupils dilate. I quickly amended what I said, while my face burned like somebody had lit my skin on fire.

“I mean---do you need me to pose in any more positions, while I’m in this outfit?” I uttered harshly, totally flustered.

Jaxon leaned forward with a rich grin across his face, until his lips were almost touching the outer shell of my ear.

“I much prefer the original way you asked,” he drawled sublimely.

My face inflamed uncontrollably. He chuckled when he drew back, and looked me in the eye with a playful twinkle dancing through his.

“However, the answer to your question is no, so you may go ahead, and change.”

I felt like I was being dismissed after asking for permission to leave when I left the studio. All the way down the corridor to the wardrobe department, I kept trying to analyze why I felt like I needed his permission---and more importantly---why the hell I wanted to feel like I needed his permission.

Why does the idea of having Jaxon’s permission to do something excite me, when all I feel is resentment when Blake does it? None of this makes any fucking sense! And it’s frustrating as all hell.

Blindly plucking the next garment off the rail, I made my way to the dressing room. When I pulled the curtain closed behind me, I suddenly snorted when it dawned on me that it wasn’t just the awkward situation I found myself in that was frustrating me…a large part of it was pent up sexual tension---and most of that was caused by the electrifying sizzle that seemed to bounce off Jaxon in increasing waves, drowning me anytime he was anywhere near me.

With a groan, I closed my eyes, and rested the back of my head against the wall in the changing room, reluctant to put on the next costume.

When I finally decided I better change, I slid the leopard print panties off, and noticed just how wet they were.

Oh, my God---I can’t put them back on the bloody hanger. I started to panic. What the hell am I going to do with them? They need to be washed. I balled them up in my hand, and finally decided to shove them in my bag, and take them home with me. I’ll be able to slip them back in here when I come back for the next shoot…no-one will know they’re even missing. I zipped my bag up to hide the fact I was stealing a soaked pair of leopard print panties.

Wow. I held the delicate black garment up in front of me to take a closer look---partly to admire the beautifully intricate pattern, and partly to work out how the hell to put it on.

These are an unusual pair of panties---they’re sort of inbuilt, and attached to suspenders. Beautiful black French Chantilly lace over-laid the whole piece up to waist height---concealing the thong shaped panties, and the extra ring of reinforcement for the durability of the garter’s suspender straps, to hold up the sheer black stockings. Why the hell has every costume been in bloody black today?

When I shimmied into the panties, the high cut of them ensured the lower half of my ass was on permanent display, and I caught myself rolling my eyes, yet again.

Never mind his client, Lachie---I think Jaxon’s the one who has an ass fetish.

The bra surprisingly had a very wide strap, with the same patterned Chantilly lace around the top, and bottom, of the garment. I carefully pulled on the sheer stockings, and hooked the tops in the fasteners on the bottom of the suspenders.

I’d done the walk of shame up, and down the corridor to the studio so many times in the last two days, I didn’t even bother with the sheer robe covering this time. I hadn’t encountered anyone else around, so I was pretty sure it was safe to walk around half naked. And if I was truthful, I was getting used to it.

The imitation fire was switched off, and the wicker basket had been moved to the front of the hearth, so I assumed we were finished with posing in that scene.

My eyes focused straight on the lighting umbrella that was moved over to where the large comfortable bed was positioned---and the soft white sheepskin covering laying innocently on top of it. I swallowed nervously, knowing I was going to be posing on that bed.

“Face down, arms stretched out above your head…but you can use your hands beneath your cheek if you wish…I just need your shoulders taut, and your elbows stretched out. This shot is going to be from your shoulders, down to about your calves.”

I nodded, and climbed gracefully on the bed, and laid on my stomach on top of the luxuriously soft fleece. Once my elbows, and shoulders were the way Jaxon wanted, he began to issue more instructions.

“Move your left leg to the right a little more, and bend your right leg up, and cross it over the back of your left calf.” He paused, waiting for me to comply. “Now just push your left hip into the fleece a bit more…elevate your right hip up a fraction.”

The positions he urged me into felt so unnatural to me, but he seemed to know exactly what he wanted portrayed in each image he sought.

“Excellent…don’t move…I’m just going to place a few little props at either side of you.”

I felt something hard, and cold, lean into my left butt cheek.

“What is that?” I questioned curiously, knowing if I tried to move to look over my shoulder to see what it was, I would have two stern people yelling at me not to move. Jaxon chuckled.

“Just a camera, Alison….and there’s another one on the other side of you, too.”

“It feels real,” I mumbled. Then Andre spoke up.

“They are…they’re a couple of my older pieces…but I still use them, so don’t roll on them,” he warned sternly.

I stifled a giggle, while the flashes hurriedly lit up the white fleece on the bed---so brightly, it almost blinded me for a few seconds, and I blinked vigorously to alleviate the brilliance of the flashes.

“Okay, Alison…that’s it for the bed. Now I need you to follow me.”

“Move my cameras out of her way first,” Andre yelled out desperately.

I couldn’t stem the giggle, and laid still, while Jaxon reached for the camera leaning against my butt. But the giggle soon died on my lips, and my butt tightened, when I felt his fingertips brush fleetingly across my bared flesh, before he removed it.

“Okay, Alison…Andre’s cameras are safe,” Jaxon said playfully.

My lips stretched into a grin when I heard the amusement in his tone, and I reluctantly raised myself up off the soft fleece. When I turned, I saw Jaxon had extended a hand to help me up off the bed. My breath caught in my throat. I was torn. Do I take his hand, and pretend his touch isn’t going to cause my body to go into a meltdown of epic proportions, or ignore it?

He raised his brow in expectation, and pinned me with a stern gaze with his intense cyan irises, so I hesitantly reached out, and placed my hand in his.

He promptly trapped my hand in his when he curled his strong fingers around, and pulled with a little bit of pressure, urging me to get up off the bed---which I tried to do as elegantly as I possibly could.

I held my breath trapped inside my lungs, and tried desperately to temper down the rising pulsating action his touch had created in my clit. Easy, Ali…keep a lid on it.

When I stood up, I extricated my hand from his grasp, and followed him over to the bathroom scene, and the round-edged pedestal basin. I frowned when I noticed Jaxon pick up a large, shiny silver butterfly type hair clip with little alligator teeth along the two sides, off the edge of the countertop.

“I need you to turn around---I want your hair up for this shot,” he explained.

I meekly turned around, and Jaxon gathered up my long brunette hair, twisting it tight, before he looped it up to the top of my head, and fastened it all with the big silver clip. His strong fingers fluffed the ends of my strands out to feather out over the top of the clip, in a waterfall effect.

When I turned back around, I noticed some make-up on the counter top---a tube of lipstick, and a twist top mascara---and a large powder brush sitting off to one side.

“I need you to kneel up on the edge of the vanity.” I looked down at the countertop when he said that, and frowned.

Is that thing safe? It looks like it will topple over if I do that.

“It’s sturdy, Alison---I wouldn’t ask you to pose on anything that would be a risk to your personal safety.” My cheeks heated with a little shame, while he continued. “Your legs have to be touching, with your delightful little ass perched on the back of your heels---wearing your stilettos of course.”

Shit---stockings---they’re going to be slippery---is that why I have to keep my legs touching? So they don’t slip out from under me?

“There’s some flesh colored grip tape that’s been added to the edge of the porcelain. You won’t slip, and slide, while wearing stockings while you’re perched up there---but, it won’t be visible in the image…just for your safety,” he grinned. “When you’re in position, I’ll need you to pretend to use the mascara---the brush held to your eyelashes in your right hand, the mascara filled tube in your left, but grasping the edge of the basin near the tap. Got it?”

I nodded, hoping like hell I was going to remember everything he told me.

I climbed up on the edge of the curved pedestal, and Jaxon grasped my right elbow to steady me, while I wriggled my legs into position, and rested the lower curve of my ass down on my stiletto covered heels. I grasped the mascara, and twisted off the top. Shit---brush in right, or left hand?

“Right hand, Alison,” Jaxon repeated quietly.

I held the tube in my left, and gripped around the edge of the porcelain basin, up near the old fashioned silver tap with the last three of my fingers, using only my thumb, and forefinger to hold the tube. I looked up, and stared at my whitening face in the gilded mirror attached to the wall above it.

“That’s perfect, Alison...your body has a beautiful shape to it.”

The sultry way he complimented me increased my awareness of his presence, and almost made me forget about my image showing in the mirror. I took a breath, but Jaxon cut me off, pre-empting what I was about to ask.

“No…your face will not appear in the image,” he reassured me.

I breathed out a sigh of relief. Being a lingerie model was a far cry from being a personal assistant, and not one I would be able to easily explain if Blake was ever to find out. The bright lights flashed quickly, and before I knew it, I was told I could get down. Jaxon was at my elbow, as quick as a one of the flashes on Andre’s camera’s, to assist me off the countertop.

“Thank you,” I mumbled politely.

“Just one more, while you’re in that outfit, Alison. But, before you follow me, turn around, and allow me to remove that clip from your hair.”

I turned, and within seconds he had the clip out, and back on the marble countertop. His strong fingers ran deliciously through my hair to separate the thickness of it with a brisk shake, then he moved off in the direction of the blackened wall.

My gut was beginning to tighten with foresight---which quickly turned into a little dismay when I noticed his hands move up to loosen his tie from the Windsor knot, before his fingers began popping the buttons at the top of his button down white shirt.

“Um---what are you doing?” I asked tentatively, my teeth pinching the warm moist inner flesh of my bottom lip in nervous contemplation.

“What have I told you about biting on the inside of your lip?” Jaxon admonished, raising his brow.

He waited for my reply, while he continued to quickly, and efficiently, pop all the buttons down the front of his shirt, leaving it hanging open as the last one popped. I immediately released the inside of my bottom lip from between my teeth, but remained stubbornly silent under his intimidating gaze, while he removed his shirt from one shoulder at a time, without answering me.

Oh, fuck. My mouth salivated at the sight of his naked, hair covered chest. I just couldn’t seem to tear my eyes away from the tantalizing sight. They were stuck like glue to the outline of his jumping pectoral muscles, and I swallowed the copious amount of saliva that was gathering inside my mouth, before it drowned me from the inside out. Before he dropped his shirt down to the floor, he pulled his tie from around the collar.

“Stand in front of me, with your back to my front,” he ordered.

My eyes widened. What in the hell is he planning? Wait---if I stand with my back to his front, my face will be in plain view. My mouth opened, and the words came rushing out on a nervous wobble.

“You promised me anonymity,” I desperately reminded him. With a slight shrug of his shoulders, he dismissed my concerns.

“Part of your face will be covered…and we’ll turn your face to the left, so that identifiable little mole above your lip won’t be seen in the image.” Part of my face will be covered? With what? “Alison, we don’t have all day,” he quipped sternly. “You are required to go back to see Simone, before the next series of photographs can be taken.”

With reluctant steps, I slowly advanced, and stood in front of him, turning my back to him. His large firm hands grasped both of my hips, and he tugged me backward, so the whole length of me was leaning up against his hardened, muscular frame.

My eyes closed of their own volition, and I released an almost silent sigh of delicious indulgence feeling his strength along my body. Involuntarily, my inner walls contracted violently, rippling through my core, and releasing a steady flow of my crème to lightly coat, and moisten between the bared lips of my pussy, while the rhythmic pulsation swelling my clit, picked up in intensity.

His grip disappeared from my hips, and his hands re-emerged over both of my shoulders---holding his unfastened tie outstretched in front of my face.

Oh, Jesus---he’s gonna blindfold me with his tie? My heart beat a little faster, and my lungs were sucking in short sharp gasps of air. The silky pink tie closed in on my eyes. Right before it covered my sight, he whispered behind my ear.

“I assure you, it will only be the side of your face that will be visible…no identifying marks will be revealed that will alert any of those closest to you that it is actually you in the image, if they happen to come across it,” he confirmed.

Then he placed the tie firmly over my eyes, taking my sight, before he tied the two ends off securely behind my head. My mouth instantly dried out with elevated apprehension. Jaxon felt my body stiffen against him.

“Once the image has been captured, I will give you the final say on whether or not we proceed to extend the proof to Lachlan, okay?---If you’re not happy about it, we’ll bin it,” he promised emphatically, but quietly.

He eased my increasing anxiety just a little, and I nodded in appreciative agreement, while I forced my tightened muscles to relax marginally.

I jumped slightly when I felt Jaxon’s warm finger beneath my chin. He put slight pressure on my jaw line, and my face swung to the left. The bony round of my shoulder automatically tilted harder against his hair-roughened chest, intensifying the pulsating action swelling the slickened lips of my pussy when his potent male scent---mingled with some expensive smelling cologne---assaulted my nasal passages, and befuddled my brain.

I felt my face tilt upward, and my lungs withheld the breath I just inhaled when I became aware that his breath was flowing over my parted lips. Oh, holy shit.

I felt his strong forearm hold firm over my shoulder, pressing me strongly against his chiseled chest, and trapping my left arm beneath his hold.

I tasted him, right before his lips sealed softly over my mouth in a sensually probing kiss. I was lost in the feel of his warm tender touch that had my heart rate sky rocketing, and my head feeling light, and fuzzy, like pulled cotton wool. The pulsation in my core was tapping out an ever increasingly urgent beat, and I had no control over the abundant amount of moisture gathering between my inner folds. Jesus.

Having no sight, inordinately increased every sensation…the shape of his lips molding along mine, the taste of him when he slipped his tongue briefly through my lips to savor the warmth of the inner sanctum of my depths, the devastating scent of him overwhelming my senses, and the powerful energy being tightly reined in, and controlled, bubbling under the surface of his heated, hard flesh.

When his lips pulled away, I was left floundering, and in total turmoil, unable to think any cognitive thought, while my breath rushed in, and out of my lungs on a desperate rhythm. When his hand left beneath my chin, and his arm relaxed the hold over my arm, I stumbled unsteadily, and he caught my elbow, keeping me upright.

“You appear to have lost a little of your balance, Alison.”

Oh, my God…Ya think? After that intoxicating kiss? I heard the amusement in his teasing tone, and felt the heat creeping through my cheeks.

“Not having my eyesight probably played the biggest part in that…Jaxon,” I mumbled, offering a half-hearted rationalization that I in no way believed.

He chuckled low in the back of his throat, in a way that told me he knew having my eyesight taken away from me had nothing at all to do with my lack of balance, as he slid the tie up over my forehead, leaving me blinking rapidly to adjust my eyes to the sudden bright light stabbing at my eyeballs.


© Copyright Carol Delmornay 2017

All Rights Reserved



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