Eli Read online

  If they’d known everything, my life would have been completely different. They loved me, but they saw things from a very narrow viewpoint. And when my father died last year of a heart attack, my mother’s ability to look past her own ideals almost disappeared altogether. So Elijah stayed in the closet and only went out to see the family when absolutely necessary.

  The battle over choosing a college far away never really ended once I’d left. I had it every week or two when I couldn’t go home as often as she wanted. “Mother, we’ve also had this conversation before. I understand that you would prefer me closer, but I have a life and job here that I am not willing to walk away from.”

  She thought I was an advertising executive. I kind of was, so I didn’t really think it was a lie, but it was about as honest as I was going to be until I absolutely had to. My head wasn’t buried so far in the sand that I thought I could keep everything separate forever, but I would keep it going as long as I could.

  Eli loved arguing.

  Elijah wasn’t really into drama and didn’t want his life blowing up.

  “If you lived closer, it—”

  Would make us both insane. “I visit every few weeks. You see me more than most sons who live in the same town as their mother.”

  That earned me another dramatic sigh. “At least tell me you’re seeing a nice girl. I would like grandchildren eventually.”

  We’d had that conversation before too. Well, something similar to the truth.

  “I’ve also said that I don’t want kids, and I’m not looking to settle down with a woman. I like my life the way it is, and I’m too busy for anything serious.” I was also too busy for a “nice guy.” Although I could make room for a kinky one. But kids seriously weren’t an option. I could understand why other people wanted them, but I knew myself well enough to realize that it wasn’t for me.

  I would be a damned good honorary uncle to somebody else’s kids, but that was about as close as I was willing to get. I wanted to be the nut throwing themselves on the floor in a tantrum, not standing around trying to act like a functional adult while a kid did it.

  That was no fun at all.

  She made a disapproving sound, and I could almost hear her shaking her head. “I’m sure you’ll change your mind when you meet the right girl. Most men do.”

  And that right there was one of the primary reasons I didn’t tell her anything else about my life. I’d given up. Elijah wasn’t strong-willed enough to fight back with her, even if Eli thought it would be a great idea to lose it one day and tell her everything.

  “I need to get back to work. I’ll talk to you later.” Making quick goodbyes, I finally hung up.

  It wasn’t the worst conversation we’d had lately, so it was going in the win category for me even though she was frustrating. Usually, the first couple of weeks after I left were fairly quiet, but for the last few trips, it hadn’t worked out that way. Each time she got antsy sooner and wanted me to come and visit quicker.

  I always put it off as long as possible because all she did was try to fix me up, but that was getting harder. Eli was also getting more difficult to shove into the closet with every visit. I’d actually found a pair of panties in my suitcase I couldn’t even remember packing the last time I’d gone out there. I was either losing my marbles or deliberately sabotaging myself…I just wasn’t sure which.

  Trying to shove the frustration out of the way, I sat down in my chair and turned to start working on the paper that needed to be finished. As much as I wanted to dawdle and put it off, it was due that night, so I couldn’t find any more reasons to delay.

  The two very distinct desks were facing away from each other, with my chair in the middle. My school desk had simple lines and reminded me a lot of Elijah. My work desk was all Eli. It had scrolling legs and all kinds of woodwork that was shiny and beautiful. They made the room tight, but it’d been the easiest way for me to keep everything separate. Living in the dorms, it had been almost impossible to find enough space to spread out.

  That had been my first justification for buying the house. Having something that was just mine and that they couldn’t take away when it all blew up was the other. Yeah, financially it had made sense with where the real estate market was at that time, but the rest of the decision had been pure Eli-emotion.

  Pushing back the conversation with my mother was harder than it should’ve been. I knew I only had Roman to thank for that. On days when I had to work with him, everything was more difficult. Something about being called a slut in that sneering voice dug its way under my skin.

  By the time I finished the paper, I had a pounding headache and a short temper. It probably wasn’t the right headspace to write a blog post, but venting to my followers about everything he said was becoming second nature. Maybe if those weren’t my highest-read posts, I would have found a reason to stop.

  But being able to rant against his judgmental bullshit made us all feel better.

  They all had people in their lives that just didn’t understand who they were and what they were drawn to. But completely losing it about “that man” or “that ass” was a fun way for all of them to tell off the haters in their own life.

  Ha, some of my psychology courses had come in handy.

  Thinking that it might be another interesting master’s program, I jotted down a quick idea on a sticky note and put it up on the wall with the other odd ones. Plain yellow for school and pink for work, they dotted the office in a slightly uneven checkerboard effect.

  When I couldn’t see the light gray paint under the papers, I knew it was time to clean up and reorganize.

  Telling myself I’d get some aspirin as soon as it was finished, I turned to the work table and charged ahead. Once I was done, and not feeling bad about telling all the shit Roman had said earlier, I shifted my focus back to the pictures.

  Most looked good. Even the ones that had to be cropped to keep my face out of the frame drew my eye, so I knew my followers would love them. They looked sexy, and I knew they were going to sell well, but some of the colors seemed off. Leaving the pictures up on the screen, I stood and stretched, then started pacing around the room.

  The more I looked at the red ones, the less I liked how they were captured. Something about the lighting made them look almost pink. It wouldn’t be bad if they were actually a pinkish-red color, but they weren’t. Those pieces were very red and wouldn’t look good on every skin tone. Some people couldn’t wear a red that strong.

  As a customer, I’d have been pissed if I thought it looked pink on the site and then ended up with red panties or any of the other pieces that came in the set. Glancing up at the calendar stuck to the far wall, I frowned. Between work commitments, school stuff, and some volunteer work I’d signed up for, my free time was rapidly dwindling, and I wasn’t going to let that ass take up any more of it than absolutely necessary.

  The earlier shoot had taken twice as long as it should have since he’d argued with every step. Each new outfit had meant new arguments on how it should be lit and what angles I wanted captured for the site. Sexy, sweet, sassy, naughty…I wanted all different moods, but Roman couldn’t see past the end of his nose.

  We weren’t selling finishing equipment or shoes. We were selling the fantasy of confidence and the idea that they could have a life where they could be whoever they wanted. Some guys would never come out and tell people what they liked, but that was fine, everyone was different. But I still wanted to show them how sexy and fabulous it was when they loved who they were.

  Roman just missed the point.

  Sighing, I looked down at the phone. It was getting late, but pounding head or not, if I wanted to be able to fit the reshoots in, it would have to be tonight. Other sessions were scheduled with a variety of models and photographers for the rest of the week, and there wasn’t room to fit in another screaming match with Roman. He would just need to suck it up and do it tonight.

  Picking up the phone, I mentally geared up for battle. I
t was going to be a long night.

  Chapter 7

  Roman

  “I’m not taking dick pics for you to send to online hookups! Just function like a reasonable model so we can get this done!” Watching the straining fabric of the lace panties that decorated his cock more than hid it was making me insane.

  “If you wouldn’t argue about every little thing, we’d have been done half an hour ago! And who sends dick pics anymore, Grandpa?” Eli popped one hip out and gave a dramatic turn so his ass was facing me. “I’ve got all kinds of angles they want to see.”

  As much as I wanted to throw my camera at him, something about the new pose caught my eye. Growling out the words, I started moving and trying to capture the light. “Don’t move. Just fuckin’ obey me for one goddamned minute.”

  I’d never admit it to Eli, but he’d been right about the color of the fabric. Adjusting the lighting a little made a world of difference in the pictures. “Arch your ass out…there’s a shadow…right there…”

  Barking out orders while he was finally listening, I tried to get as many shots in as I could before he started leaking drama out all over my shoot again. Walking around his body, I caught the panties from a variety of angles.

  They’d looked rectangular as he’d held them up, but once he’d put them on they cupped every bulge and wrapped around his hips, looking curvy and soft. They were hot, but it was catching the contrast between the masculine and feminine that I was more interested in.

  Eli leaned forward, stretching out his legs just enough that I had to kneel down behind him to capture the line of his body. I wasn’t sure if it would be right for the site, but the angle was perfect, and I knew people would want to reach into the picture and trace their fingers up his long body.

  The stockings and garters only made the image more perfect.

  Finally, Eli straightened. “I want shots of the other ones.”

  Reaching for the panties, he started taking them off as he walked away. There was no hiding away in a dressing room for most of the guys. They just started stripping off everywhere, and Eli was no exception. When I’d first started working there, the constant conversations with people who were completely naked or halfway dressed was distracting.

  I wasn’t a prude, but outside of a BDSM club or gay bar, I’d never seen so many people comfortable completely naked. But Eli was a special brand of crazy, even among other naked models. Something about the way he stripped down made it look like he was taking off his clothes just for you, not simply changing into another outfit like it was with the rest of the guys.

  Eli could even make some of the other models blush and stammer with his antics.

  As he finished sliding the lace down his legs, he bent over, arching his ass up again, and turned his head to give me a look that was half heat and half trying to make me feel guilty for looking. I wasn’t falling for that shit. “Just change. I don’t know about you, but I have plans that don’t include watching you get ready for your street corner.”

  Eli’s eyes flashed as he straightened. “I’m sure you have a simpering twink waiting for you somewhere, but some of us have work ethics and want to get pictures right.”

  If he was trying to make me feel bad, walking over to the lingerie rack naked, his erect and flushed cock swinging back and forth, wasn’t the way to do it. “Someone else is going to take your corner while you prance around here. Hurry up.”

  Looking down at my camera, I tried to ignore the way he bent over and started pulling the tiny panties up his legs over the stockings and garter like a tramp. As he reached down and adjusted his cock, he turned and looked at himself in the mirror. His frown caught my eye.

  Great. All I needed was for him to find something else wrong. Before I could say something, he started mumbling. “These would look much better with a spanking. The red framing red would have every guy on the site stopping to look at the image.”

  Fuck if he wasn’t right, but I wasn’t going to say that. They looked more like a lace jockstrap than panties, but whatever they were, they were hot as hell—not that I was going to tell him that either.

  Rolling my eyes, I was grateful my response came out dry and bored instead of horny and frustrated. “I don’t have one of your johns waiting in the wings, so you’ll have to make do with real photography and not a porn shoot.”

  I glanced up to see Eli watching me in the mirror, one hand sliding down to cup an ass cheek, letting his fingers trail along the lace wrapping around his ass. “It takes a real man to spank a naughty sub. Not that I’d expect you to understand.”

  If the brat thought he could embarrass me into looking away, he had another think coming. But that didn’t mean I was going to respond to his drama.

  I was not interested in brats.

  I was not interested in bending a little snot over and tanning his ass.

  I was not interested in guys who were filled with more drama than sense.

  “I’m here to take pictures. Not get you off.” Something flashed in Eli’s eyes as my words came out flat and unemotional.

  I was expecting another biting remark or even for him to look away seeming bored, but he just kept his eyes on me, only glancing away long enough to turn and move his gaze from the mirror and back to me. As he stalked over to the lights, hips rolling and cock nearly bursting out of the panties, I was at a loss for words.

  Instead of heading back toward the empty center of the space where we’d been shooting, Eli went over to a large square platform. I’d set it up earlier, thinking that some shots of him sitting would look good for the stockings. Instead of using it like a chair as I’d intended, he climbed up on it and knelt, his legs and the heels he was wearing sticking out behind him.

  “I want something different. Something sexy. I’ve been teasing on my blog about how hot the new line is, but I want photos I can really get them going with.” Then he leaned over on all fours, like someone would be coming up behind him any minute and fucking that tight ass.

  He was trying to kill me.

  He was trying to make me pay for calling him a whore.

  I’d just about had enough of little brats. Especially ones who needed a reminder in how to behave. Barely holding back the frustration and other emotions I couldn’t name, I brought up my camera and started shooting. He arched and twisted, showing off for the camera and trying to push me to the edge.

  He was going to get more than he could handle if he wasn’t careful.

  “You know,” his low voice came out huskier than normal, and it was all I could do to fight off the shiver that was threatening to run down my spine, “I should make you wait here while I go find a real man to spank me. One who isn’t afraid of a sub who knows what he wants, and what would look incredible in the photos. Especially since you don’t seem to have the balls to get the job done.”

  Smack.

  I didn’t even remember doing it, but one moment I was trying to get the right angle to show off the stockings and garters and the next my handprint was blooming on his ass.

  Fuck.

  My first thought was that I was going to get fired or he’d call the cops, but instead of screaming at me and getting up swinging, which was what I expected, Eli moaned. Pleasure seemed to roll through him, and something about his face and the way the light caught his expression had the camera coming up again, almost without me thinking.

  Eli’s head dropped back and he gave me a look, his eyes filled with need and the haze of subspace hinting in them. It was addicting, and I knew exactly what he was asking for.

  “If you want a spanking so bad, Brat, I’ll give it to you.” Balancing the camera in one hand, I brought my other down on his unblemished cheek, giving him matching handprints.

  Beautiful.

  As I started taking pictures again, it was less about the clothing and more about Eli than I wanted to admit. The look on his face. The way his body quivered, and the need that was straining to be released. His cock wasn’t just hard anymore; it was the sy
mbol of everything he wanted at that moment.

  “Arch your ass up higher. I want to see my marks on your skin.” My voice was rough and sounded almost angry to my ears, but Eli almost purred and his ass came up, finally perfectly obedient. “That’s it. Show me how you need more.”

  I don’t even know if I was saying it for the pictures or for me. It was becoming all mixed up in my head, and it was impossible to separate. Not willing to take the time to analyze it, I just went where everything in me had been pushing me to go from the start.

  Bringing my hand down again, I started to pepper his ass with smacks. His skin marked easily, but he seemed to have a strong pain tolerance that made me curious to find out how high I could make him fly. “I want to see if those panties do look better framing a nice red ass. If I don’t like the pictures, though, you’re going to be punished for wasting my time.”

  The low, heated words combined with the heat from his ass had Eli moaning in pleasure. “Please. Yes. Please. Punished.”

  Having no idea what he was trying to say, I made my best guess as I kept up the pain and pleasure I was doling out. “You’re not going to like my punishments, Brat.” I couldn’t hold the rest of the words back as I finally stopped spanking him and started roughly kneading his ass while he panted and gasped out low, needy sounds. “If you’re good for me, Brat, you might earn a reward, though.”

  Fuck if I knew what that should look like, but I didn’t care.

  His response was perfection. Desire and need radiated off him, and it was like he was stripped down to just that inner part that was desperate for someone to take hold of and control. Bringing the camera up, I took picture after picture.

  “Sit up, hands behind your back right above the lace.” I didn’t even question if he would obey, I simply knew he would.

  Eli moved gracefully, straightening and placing his hands behind his back right above the panties. “Yes, just like that.”

  Having him up on the platform meant there were endless angles I could capture, and I lost track of the time I spent photographing him. When he would start to fidget, or I could see the brat coming to the surface again, I’d pop his ass.