Shut Up and Model for Me by Iris Blaire Page A

is a poor mask. She looks nervous.
    “I hope the two of you are ready. We’re gonna promote the shit out of the second in the series. I want to shoot today, if that’s cool with the two of you. Can you be in hair and makeup in five? And it doesn’t matter what you wear.” She winks, and before either of us can respond, saunters away.
    Evan sighs loudly and pushes back her chocolate hair with her fingers. I grasp her shoulders, forcing her to look at me. “Hey. You okay?”
    She performs the adorable gesture of pushing up the middle of her glasses with her finger. She’s not wearing makeup, just like how she was last night. Arching beneath me. A guttural moan escaping her throat. I blink the image away before I have the chance to get hard.
    “Peachy,” she says with a weak grin.
    “If I ever do anything to make you uncomfortable, in front of the camera or not, you’d tell me, right?”
    She blinks slowly before saying, “You’re not the problem, Dallas.”
    I have no idea what she means, but I’m quickly distracted by the giggling coming from the corner of the room. A gaggle of models are looking toward us. A gorgeous blonde smiles at me and winks. She holds up the current issue of EPE.
    Evan rests her hand on my arm. She’s looking over at the girls with disdain. Is she being protective of me?
    “You want to look at the issue?” I ask her.
    “Hell no,” she replies quickly. “Especially not the shoot with you.” And in the same breath, “I need to get my makeup done.”
    She stalks away.
    I walk up to the blonde model and her friends. All of them are dressed in bikinis or lingerie. “Can I borrow that?” I ask.
    She pops her hip. “Sure.” She hands me the magazine and bats her eyelashes. “I hope you don’t mind me saying this, but I would pay money to shoot with you. Maybe we could do a private session later?”
    “Err… I can’t tell if you’re being literal, or if, by private session, you’re hitting on me. I’m a science dork. I’m not that great with reading women.”
    She and her posse giggle. “You silly boy.” She leans in and whispers, her hot breath tickling my ear. “I meant that, later tonight, I’d like to get your alone and fuck your brains out.” She takes a step back. “Offer’s on the table.”
    What the hell is wrong with me? Why do I not feel turned on in the slightest by this beautiful girl offering herself to me? “Sorry,” I tell her. “I have a girlfriend.”
    She sneers. “Rylan?”
    “Uhh… no, actually. But Rylan is a friend. Look, I gotta…”
    “Pretty-boy!” Someone hollers across the room. On instinct I turn. A pissed, goth-looking girl is staring right at me. “You done flirting? You need to get your ass into makeup.”
    I don’t argue, using this as an excuse to dodge any more advances from blondie.
    When the makeup artist and I are alone in the dressing room, she orders me to sit. “Luckily, because you have balls, I don’t have to do a lot to you,” she says to me, getting a pasty makeup ready for me by mixing colors together. “You wouldn’t believe the shit these girls have to put on every day before they shoot.”
    I open the magazine right at the end of mine and Evan’s office shoot. I’m standing over her, cupping her ass. At least she looks like she’s having a good time. I quickly close it again. Now I know why Evan never looks at issues. I looked… well, I looked creepy. I have no idea how chicks find this professor-student role-play shit attractive.
    Granted, it was fun as hell to shoot.
    I glance over at the artist’s makeup kit as she starts wiping stuff on my face. It reads NORA. “Nora, why do the models hate Rylan?”
    She chuckles. “Why do you ask?”
    I shrug.
    “Not all of them do. Delilah loves Rylan.”
    “So are the temp models just jealous of her?”
    Nora shakes her head. “I don’t think it’s that. If you haven’t noticed, Rylan has a fuck-it-all kind of attitude that makes her come off as