Reluctant Substitute (excerpt)

Title : Reluctant Substitute

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

EXCERPT ...

“Time for wardrobe,” he announced, matter-of-factly.

I knew that’s exactly where I was supposed to go, so why did he feel the need to emphasize it to me in the way he did. I got a niggling feeling in the pit of my stomach that maybe I wasn’t going to like the next outfit I was going to be required to wear.

Have I liked many of them to date? Not really, I answered myself with honesty. Some were way more revealing than I would have liked them to be, to say the least. Before I entered wardrobe, Jaxon grasped my right arm.

“You will need the robe, before you leave wearing this outfit,” he warned sternly.

Then he turned, and walked back up the corridor toward the studio. I watched his retreating back, suddenly nervous about what I was going to find on the rack when I walked in. Taking a deep breath, I opened the door.

Oh, my fucking God. My mouth was gaping, and my eyes were searching frantically for the rest of the costume. There’s no way that’s all there is!

A black velvet hanger held an intricate lace garter with inlayed white thong panties, and long white suspenders, with big white satin bows tied off at the ends of each of the four straps. A pair of sheer black seamed stockings hung innocently over the hanger beneath it, with a long string of imitation pearls looped three times over the hook.

No camisole, bra…nothing? And what the fuck are the pearls for? No…this can’t be right. I strode with building anxiety into the change room, and changed into the stockings, and garter, attaching the suspenders to the top of the stockings.

I intentionally left the top of the last outfit on, and shrugged my sheer robe over my shoulders, before I picked up Jaxon’s jacket, slinging it over my shoulder on my return walk back to the studio.

“Oh, good…you brought my jacket back.”

Jaxon strode over, and took it from my grasp, dragging it off my shoulder. He slid his arms in the sleeves, and rolled his hard shoulders, until the jacket was sitting snugly on his frame, before he fastened the buttons at the front.

“I need it for this shot,” he remarked in an off-handed manner.

He needs it? Oh, no. I released an internal groan…He’s going to be in the scene with me? I caught a frown beginning to deepen on his brow.

“Alison---why do you still have the Chantilly bra on?”

“There was no bra, or anything, on the hanger…” I started to explain.

“Of course not---you’re not required to wear one for this shot.”

My mouth immediately dropped open in astonishment.

“What?” I shrieked.

With a cavalier shrug of one shoulder, he grasped my elbow, and proceeded to walk me over to the dining room set.

“You’ve already done a topless shot for me,” he responded casually. His grip tightened on my elbow when I momentarily balked.

“That doesn’t mean you can assume I’m fine with posing topless,” I ground out madly through clenched teeth.

Especially if I have to pose with you, I added to myself apprehensively. Look what happened last time I posed topless! A shiver of excitement raced down my spine---God---was that only yesterday? Goosebumps began to form over my forearms. My eyes flicked passed him to the approaching dining scene that was set up.

Wow---they sure go all out for these images. The dining table looked really solid, with thick turned wooden legs. The large top was covered with a white silk, or satin, table cloth, with a thick, tasseled table runner down the length of the center coming to a point where it draped off, and hung over the end of the table.

Two place settings were set as if we were expected to sit down to eat a meal…complete with china patterned plates, silver cutlery, and wine glasses. The patterned high-backed chairs appeared to be of the same quality as the table---the legs were turned in the same pattern. It was quite impressive, and elegant.

A highly polished dark wood buffet sat along a wall over to one side of the “dining” area, hosting a large crystal vase full of a beautiful arrangement of varying white flowers…the only ones I could determine were the roses, and carnations, and some sprigs of baby breath---I didn’t know what the rest of them were. A three-piece, silver tea service was perched on a tray next to the vase in front of a large, silver framed mirror fastened to the wall.

But the most impressive thing of beauty that stood out in the room, was the huge low-hung chandelier that came down over the middle of the table from the height of the pressed tin ceiling. It had three dimensional shapes of varying sizes, giving it a bit of a funky look. I assumed the flash chandelier wasn’t real, but it was impressive none-the-less.

Andre hovered, adjusting the lighting, and setting up a second silver lined umbrella, while Jaxon moved me to the side of the table opposite all of the additional furnishings.

He reached one large hand out, and wrapped his strong fingers around the top of the sturdy chair at the end of the table, and pulled it out, leaving it on an angle away from the table, as if he was going to be sitting on it. He stopped just short of the corner of the table where the chair was angled, and reached out with a reassuring smile to grab the string of imitation pearls dangling in my left hand.

“You’ll need to remove that Chantilly bra, Alison.”

His gaze flicked down to my breasts, and my cheeks immediately inflamed when my taut nipples hardened, and tingled, just from his fleeting look down.

For fuck’s sake. Rolling my eyes, and expelling a huff of embarrassment, I reached up under the back of the sheer robe with both hands, and unhooked the bra. I put my left hand up inside the right sleeve to slide the bra strap off my shoulder, and down my arm, until it stretched out, and slipped over my hand.

Then I repeated the action with my right hand up my left sleeve, until I reached down in the front of the robe, and pulled the bra out, abracadabra style.

Jaxon chuckled humorously, and took the dangling bra from my hand, and tossed it over to Andre, who was unaware it was coming in his direction, until the last minute. He fumbled awkwardly in order to catch it, before he shot an exasperated look straight at Jaxon.

My lips twitched, and I stifled a grin. Huh---at least I’m not the only one getting pissed off.

But when Jaxon spoke, I didn’t have to try to stifle any grin---it completely dropped away of its own accord.

“You will need to remove the robe, and turn around, Alison.”

WHAT? He can’t be fucking serious---not with Andre in plain sight?

“We’re all professionals here---believe me when I tell you Andre has seen much more than a bared breast in this room,” he advised with an unwavering look.

“What do I need to turn around for?” I hissed indignantly, narrowing my eyes. “And you, and Andre might be professionals, and used to all this, but I’m not!” I reminded him heatedly.

“I need to wrap this string of pearls around your wrists.”

My head jerked back, and my eyes widened in confusion. My wrists? Then it dawned on me, and my lower jaw gaped. Holy hell---now he’s going to tie my hands together?

“You’re going to tie me up?” I questioned incredulously.

“Yes,” he answered casually, as if there was absolutely nothing wrong with being half naked in front of two men, partly tied up---defenseless. Tumultuous thoughts were racing through my head. I knew I should be indignant, and incensed, but a part of me was excited…even aroused…at the thought of being unable to defend myself. The dimming lights of the chandelier briefly attracted my attention.

“Andre’s almost ready, Alison---time to lose the robe.”

He pinned me with an expectant, and demanding look, suggesting I do as I was told. Jesus fucking Christ.

I swallowed a huge gulp of air, and pulled at the loose bow fastening the robe together at the front, letting it fall open. I closed my eyes, oh, God, and swallowed again, before I let the sheer covering reluctantly leave my shoulders, and fall down my arms, the light-weight garment pooling at my crooked elbows.

I hesitated, knowing that when I let the robe fall completely away, I would be left standing almost naked in front of Jaxon. Until yesterday, the only man I ever stood naked in front of, was Blake.

“Can I at least face the table?” I requested quietly, looking up, and pleading with my eyes.

“If that will make you feel more comfortable, yes, you may face the table,” Jaxon granted patiently.

My breath caught in my throat. Again? Why the hell do I feel like I want his damned permission? With a sigh of resignation, I knew the time had come. It was now, or never. Never! A little voice with a glowing halo in my head screamed to be heard. Then a dark figure with a mischievous grin, and flames rising from two horns, whacked the halo on the head with a sledgehammer, forever silencing her, throwing me a salacious wink, before she disappeared like magic in a grey puff of smoke.

I turned, and faced the table, and let the robe slide off my arms, curling the fingers on my left hand to catch the item, before it fell in a soft soundless puddle to the floor.

Excitement built inside my stomach, despite my misgivings. My fingers began to tremble when Jaxon’s fingers brushed along them to take the robe from my hold, throwing it to the floor in a heap just to my left.

“Fold your arms around behind your back,” he commanded quietly from behind me.

My heart was pounding harder, and faster, as I folded my arms behind me, and when I glanced down, I saw that action only served to push my breasts out, and I closed my eyes. There’s no way he’s not going to look, I thought morosely.

With his height, he wouldn’t have to try hard to get an eyeful. I almost groaned with embarrassment when that realization hit me. I tightened my eyelids, hoping that would dispel the awkward embarrassment beginning to manifest inside my chest---the humiliation that was trying to take over, and threatening to drown the budding excitement that was growing in my belly.

His hands worked quickly, and efficiently, and before I knew it, my wrists were bound---wrapped tightly. I felt the slight tickle of some length teasing along the sides of some of my fingers, and frowned when I felt the same tickle briefly along the back of one thigh. Did he leave some of the strand hanging free?

When his hands grasped the rounds of both my shoulders, he turned me in a half-turn to face him front on, and I tentatively tested the secureness of the bond from the imitation pearls surrounding my wrists. They were surprisingly firm. But my overwhelming natural instinct of using my hands to modestly cover my bared breasts, tested the hold even further.

“Stop struggling---they will break if you keep that up,” he frowned down at me.

He pinned me with a stare that abated my struggles, but one that also had my nipples lengthening, and hardening, under the intensity of his crisp cyan eyes. I almost moaned when I felt the tightening of my areola, knowing they were pebbling right under his gaze.

I was sure he noticed---if he can notice me biting on the inside of my bottom lip at a hundred paces, he is sure to notice the puckering, and pebbling happening right under his nose, but he chose not to acknowledge it to me in any manner. Not even with a slight grin, or curling of his lips.

His lack of acknowledgement didn’t dampen the increasingly awkward heat stinging over my cheeks. My shoulders unconsciously drooped forward, my body automatically making some sort of an attempt to alleviate the thrusting display of my abundantly jutting breasts.

“Stand up straight,” Jaxon admonished with a brief frown of disapproval. “Be proud of your body, not ashamed of it.”

My face flamed further. Be proud? Of what? My overly large bust that I’ve been trying to hide since I was at that awkward stage of early puberty? Blake’s never hesitated to whine, and complain about how big the girls are, and that more than a mouth, or handful, is nothing but a waste.

I almost laughed aloud. It was only this week Blake suggested I look into getting a breast reduction for crying out loud. With a reluctant sigh, I made a token effort to straighten---but years of inbuilt insecurities were hard to overcome.

With a minimal, but impatient, shake of his head, Jaxon twisted sideways, and leaned down the length of the table, snaring a tall glass from the place setting that was half-filled with some sort of liquid, with his left hand.

He transferred the glass into his right hand, wrapping his fingers lightly around the lower half of the glass, before he held it down near his outer thigh. At the same time, he wound his left arm around me, and placed his hand in the curve just above the small of my back. The warmth of his palm arrowed straight down to my aching pussy, and my breath caught in my throat.

“Shoulders back---look me in the eye,” he directed in a low voice.

I gasped quietly when his hand tightened, and pulled my hip to crash in against him.

“Present those beautiful breasts for my viewing pleasure,” Jaxon growled in a whispered tone.

My eyes immediately widened, and my whole body trembled with every beat of my heart. What the fuck does he mean by that? Blood thrummed through my body, heating me from the inside out. Tingles of need feathered in ripples through the inner walls of my pussy, and nervous excitement increased the slickened moisture pooling at my entrance.

When I pushed my shoulders back, the tips of my nipples grazed across the silky material of his jacket. The tingling rush of sensitivity was almost too much for me to bare, and I sucked in a startled gasp. The burgeoning swell of carnal desire pulsated with sensual intensity through my bared lips, while Jaxon’s firm frame pressed along my entire being.

The heat emanating from his body shrouded me like a thick curling mist rolling in off the wharf on a foggy, windless night. The sultriness of his blatant masculinity assaulted every one of my senses, until I was consumed by him---his taste, his scent, his intoxicating raw power.

I was drowning in the magnitude of his gaze---his eyes holding me captive---the demanding severity of his silent command never more compelling than right in this moment. My eyes were fixated on the slow path of his lips languorously approaching when his head leaned down, and his breath mingled with mine.

“Beautiful,” he murmured softly. “We’re done, Alison.”

The squeeze of his hand at my back startled me, jolting me out of wherever the hell my head had just been. Huh?---Done? His hard, toned body leaned in against me, squashing the heavy weight of my ample breasts under the hard contours of his broad chest, while his confident fingers adroitly unwrapped the string of imitation pearls from my wrists, freeing my hands within a minute, or two.

© Copyright Carol Delmornay 2017

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