“Well, then I guess I’m fucked.”
“Think hard, Shane. Try to figure out who might have something against you and see if you can get to the bottom of this. I’ll help you in any way possible, but there’s only so much I can do.”
“I appreciate that, Eleanor,” I sighed. “But right now, I’m fucking clueless.”
I hung up the call and almost smashed my phone against the wall but stopped myself. I’d need it if I was going to stay in contact with Jane. I was still absolutely raging for her, but that phone call had
completely fucked up my night. I wanted to show Jane everything I had to offer, show her the world of pleasure I had in store for her and claim her in every was possible. But I couldn’t do it when I was ready to tear the world to pieces.
And I’d been so close…
My lips and tongue just a hair away from her pretty little cunt. I was close enough that I could smell her, and boy did she smell good. I’d felt like an animal down there, ready to lick those sweet juices dripping from her lips and probe her hole as deep as I could, taste every single inch of her. If what she said was true, she was innocent, untouched, just waiting for me to show her the world.
I walked over to my computer and began to transfer the images from my camera to my computer, doing my best to calm the anger raging inside of me. I was ready to explode, but when I saw the shots pop up on my display, everything changed.
They were the most incredible shots I’d ever taken. Jane was gorgeous in real life, but absolute magic through my lens. I’d shot some of the world’s top models, girls who went on to become famous simply for being beautiful, but Jane…she was something else.
I knew that I could send these shots to anyone and Jane would instantly be the hottest thing in New York, and within months, the world. I could make her rich, famous, legendary in the business…
…but did I want to?
Jane was my discovery, my beautiful little secret. I didn’t want to share her with anyone, especially not these shots—shots that showed everything. No, those were mine. I was the only one who was going to see my sexy princess like that. But maybe—just maybe, if Jane wanted to start a career as a model, I’d be okay with helping her. But right now, she was mine and nobody else’s.
Chapter Six
Jane
“Spill it!” Janice whined again over her glass of red wine. “How’d your little Tinder date go? You hooked up didn’t you.”
“Why would you say that?” I replied. “What am I? Some kind of slut?”
“Pshhh,” Janice laughed. “Is there an opposite for a slut?”
“Prude?”
“Yes!” Janice snapped. “That. That’s you. A prude!”
“So, then why did you say I probably hooked up with my date?”
Janice was the world’s biggest gossip, and I was doing my best to keep my promise to Shane and not tell her about what had just gone down at his studio, but I was finding it extremely hard to not spill the beans.
I wanted to tell her everything, as I was still completely upside down over what had happened. What use was a good girlfriend if you couldn’t share all the sultry details of your first real hookup with her? Especially if that hookup was with one of New York’s most successful and sought after photographers?
“You just have that look,” Janice replied.
“Look?”
“Mmhmm,” she nodded, taking another sip of her wine. “You know—like you just got dicked down!”
I burst out laughing. She was almost right. But if I was glowing, it was because of the fact that I was so sexually frustrated that I was about to burst. My pussy was wet and I hadn’t had a chance to change my jeans since coming home and being accosted by Janice for details. When I closed my eyes, I could still smell him, feel the heat from his body and the breath against my dripping pussy lips…
All I wanted to do was go outside, get on the subway and race back to him to finish what we started. But whatever had come up had obviously been extremely important to him or he wouldn’t have asked me to go. Was he all right? It felt silly to be worrying for him—a man I’d just met—but it was as if everything in my life had gone into hyperdrive the moment he set his eyes on me. I felt like Rose in “Titanic,” and Shane was Jack, if Jack was six-foot-three with muscles, and from what I could assume from the bulge I’d seen in his pants, a dick that would put most porn stars to shame.
“Well, I didn’t get just dicked down, Janice,” I admitted. “I’m just in a good mood.”
“Will you be seeing him again?”
“Him?” I thought slyly. “Probably not.”