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As I stared at my reflection in the mirror, the insecurity I’d been distracted from in my shock at seeing Ari here…it came roaring back.
Knowing I couldn’t delay any longer, I took a deep breath and pushed open the dressing room door, stepping into the studio. The moment I entered, Ari’s gaze snapped towards me. His jaw dropped, and his eyes were comically wide.
“Wow,” he mouthed, putting his hand on his heart and pretending to stagger. His gaze roamed over my appearance and then he was wincing, shoving a hand over his suddenly very erect cock. The briefs were small…and he was abnormally large…large enough that the pierced tip was peeking out from the top band and he was doing his best to cover it.
He started mouthing something to himself while he stared at the ceiling. It kind of looked like he was chanting “grandpa balls” over and over again, but that didn’t seem right.
I walked over to the set where he was standing, and he pulled his gaze to me again, the look on his face pained. “You’re killing me, sunshine,” he growled. He started chanting again, but this time I could hear him.
He was indeed chanting “grandpa balls.”
I giggled and his whole face softened.
“You want to explain what you’re doing here?” I asked with a raised eyebrow.
A throat cleared from nearby before Ari could answer. It was the art director for Renage, Élise Martin, a world-renowned figure in the industry. Her gaze flicked toward Ari and me, dipping down to the “pierced presence” in Ari’s briefs that was just starting to go down. A faint blush crept across her cheeks, a testament to the undeniable charisma that Ari radiated…because nothing affected Élise Martin.
Flustered but trying to maintain her professionalism she choked out, "Alright, everyone, let's get started. This shoot is going to take us all day, so let's make the most of it."
"You’re so fucking beautiful…and all mine," he whispered in my ear as we followed Élise to the set, his words a balm to the jealousy that had been simmering in my spine. The possessiveness in his tone was undeniable, and it filled me with a heady mix of desire and reassurance.
The theme for the shoot had an edgier twist, titled "Sultry Rebellion." The set was supposed to exude a dark and mysterious atmosphere, with elements of unconventional sensuality.
The backdrop was made of distressed, exposed brick walls covered in graffiti, giving the set an urban, underground vibe. Dim, moody lighting cast intriguing shadows, emphasizing the edgy ambiance.
Rather than traditional furniture, the set featured industrial props like steel chains, leather-bound cuffs, and vintage motorcycles, adding an element of raw sexuality and rebellion.
My cheeks blushed when I saw Ari staring at the cuffs, naughty thoughts obviously in his head.
They were in mine too.
Élise called for more body oil for Ari, and I bit down on my lip hard, trying to edge off the jealousy as the eager employee rushed towards us, holding out the oil like it was the holy grail.
“Blake can apply it,” said Ari firmly.
Élise opened her mouth to argue, her gaze darting between us, confused. She finally seemed to get we were…something, and changing Ari’s mind was probably a lost cause, because she shook her head and stalked over to where the photographer’s crew was gathered, discussing something on the screens in front of them.
I took the bottle from the very disappointed employee and, with shaking hands, smoothed the glistening oil over Ari's sculpted body. I rubbed my hands across the hard surface of his chest, fascinated as usual by all of the tattoos inked across his skin. Ari was erect again, staring at me in what looked like awed fascination. There was the click of a camera from somewhere but I was too caught up in what we were doing to see what was going on.
“I’m obsessed with everything about you,” he growled under his breath, as I rubbed my palm down his abs…just for good measure.
“Same,” I responded, the word rushing out quickly.
We reluctantly got to work then, and even with Ari…my self-consciousness began to claw its way to the surface like a relentless beast. Élise and the photographer's growing frustration only intensified my unease, their impatient commands slicing through me like a knife.
I couldn’t do anything right. Every look was wrong.
“Let’s take a break,” Ari finally said after I’d been snapped at for the millionth time. There was a dark growl in his voice that broached no argument. Without waiting to see if anyone agreed with his suggestion…order, he dragged me into the dressing room, locking the door behind us.
His concern was evident in the depths of his eyes as he turned to face me.
"What's wrong, sunshine?" His voice was gentle, a soothing balm to my frayed nerves as he smoothed fingers down my cheek. But as if summoned by the mere question, a tear slipped down my skin as I leaned into his hand.
I took a shaky breath, trying to steady the tremors that ran through me. The words caught in my throat, as if they were too heavy to be set free.
I sniffled, struggling to find the words to convey the storm of emotions raging inside me. "I...I just feel so ugly. Something’s wrong with me," I finally admitted, the confession escaping me like a whispered secret.
Tears welled up in my eyes, and I hastily wiped them away with the back of my hand. It was absurd, really, to be reduced to this—sobbing in a dressing room, overwhelmed by my own fucked up head. But I’d had years of my confidence being eroded, torn at until I was the nothing that Maura had preferred.
