Marshall (Mayfair Model Series Book 1) Page 2

  Walking down the street, I was thinking how lucky I was that I didn’t have to go too far to get to the club. It wasn’t overly trendy but had just the right mix of clientele. At the bar, I ordered a beer and asked the bartender if Damien was around. He pointed to the stage. “Be up in ten.”

  The club was dark with some flashing lights, and as I sipped my beer, I scanned the possibilities. Dame Onyx took to the stage in style and I enjoyed the show. Damien was the best drag queen I’d ever met. As she strutted on the stage in true diva form, I noticed a hot, brooding man in the corner. Dark hair and dark stubble below a moustache, the look was complete with sharp blue eyes, which happened to be staring right at me.

  Holding his gaze, I sashayed right over to him. “See something you like?” His drink stopped halfway to his lips and his perfect eyebrows went up, as if he never dreamed I’d be so forthright.

  “Uh …” he mumbled.

  “Look, we both want the same thing. Take it or leave it.” I went back to the bar and ordered another drink. And waited. Then a deep voice spoke from the stool beside me.

  “Want to get out of here? There’s a hotel nearby.” The way he faced towards the bar—not at me—and spoke made it seem like it was a transaction of necessity. I suppose it was.

  “And they say romance is dead,” I retorted.

  He got up off the stool and had started to stomp away. Fuck, I hadn’t meant for that to happen. I actually loved the brooding types. I quickly moved to grab at his sleeve and panicked. “No, wait. Yes, I do. One night. At my place. Are we on the same page?”

  He nodded abruptly and whisked his hand forward as if telling me to lead the way. I took hold of his wrist and we left the club. Well, that didn’t take long, I mused, smiling to myself. No words were spoken. None were needed. I’d always made the rules and had brought them to my place so I’d be the one in control. If ever I had any weird feeling, they’d be out the door, or not invited in at all. But this guy, while giving a standoffish vibe, seemed genuine underneath. I could read people well, and at that moment I felt the strong, silent type of behaviour he portrayed was all for show.

  As soon as we arrived at my flat and I unlocked the door, clothes flew everywhere. Mr. Broody pulled my shirt off and moaned in my ear. I tweaked his nipple and moved my hands down frantically to undo his pants. His hard cock burst out of the zipper, and when I rubbed it, he bit his lip, trying to hold back his groans.

  “Let go, anything goes here …” Well, I couldn’t add his name since I didn’t know it. “Just so you know, my roommate is away … and I like it loud.” That seemed to relax him. He let out moan after moan when I kneeled down and took his cock into my mouth.

  He stared at me, and I looked up into his stunning eyes and was mesmerized. No, I couldn’t let that happen, so I shut my eyes and continued sucking. He put his hands in my hair and chanted, “Fuck, yes. Oh, fuck … yes.”

  He pulled me up and kissed me, and then seemed to realize what he was doing and backed away. Clearing his throat he said, “Where do you want me? Do you have supplies?” I guess that was the end of the kissing. For the better, I suppose. I touched my finger across my lips where I could still taste him, and then pulled him through to the bedroom.

  “Be right back.” It was dark but I could study his back as he went to the bed. Beautiful broad shoulders and a narrow waist led down to his glorious ass and strong thighs—the things wet dreams were made of. I rushed to the bathroom and got the condoms and lube and brought them back.

  The light from the bathroom illuminated my bedroom and I stopped dead in my tracks as I watched him work his cock. Long and glistening with precum, fuck, he was hot. The look he gave me was pure desire and lust. It took me a minute to realize he’d spoken. “Get on and ride me. Face away from me.” I hated being ordered around, but from Mr. Broody, it was dynamite.

  Sheathing his hard cock and then lubing up, I straddled him and faced my wall of paintings instead of the headboard. It was still quite dark, so they weren’t visible, but I knew they were there. As he thrust up and down, I rode him hard, and all that could be heard was our panting and gasping. He moved his legs up and I held on near his knees.

  “Fuck, you’re tight,” he said as he continued thrusting. He slapped my ass and I moaned and pumped my cock as I bounced on him.

  “Coming,” I said, the single word stretching out to sound more like a few. Then he held my hips, lifted up once more, and I felt him release inside me. One more pump and I sprayed all over my cover, his legs, and my chest. Fast and furious. Just the way I liked it. “Fucking amazing. Hold the condom while I get up.” I pulled off him and lay back, still panting. Barely paying attention, I could sense Broody tugging off the condom and tying it.

  I removed it from his hand and got up to toss it in the garbage bin near the nightstand.

  “Ah, can I rest a bit? Then I’ll leave you.” His words shot out in rapid fire.

  “Of course. Knock yourself out.” I leaned my arm over and laid it on him and then fell asleep.

  The next morning, at least I think it was morning, my head was at the end of the bed, and I was flat on my front with another warm body next to me, half draped across me. What was going on? Who knew where the covers were. Had we fucked again? What was Mr. Broody still doing here?

  My bedroom door burst open and Jamieson ambled in. “Hey man, the flight was cancelled so … I-uh …” Then he slammed the door shut. Oh shit, this wasn’t looking good. I never brought men back here unless I knew he was away, which was most of the time. Jamieson kind of came in and out like a ship passing in the night.

  I jumped up and shoved Broody’s pants at him. “Get dressed. My roommate is back, and yeah, he just saw us both in here naked. If we aren’t careful, he’ll want to join in,” I joked. No way was I sharing. Turning to look at him, I heard a low growl emit from his direction.

  “I don’t share,” he bit out.

  “No, me either.” Wow I hadn’t expected that. I pulled on my rainbow jogging pants and slipped out to see Jamieson. “Uh … hey, Jamieson. So, they cancelled?” He looked up from the table where he was drinking a Red Bull.

  “Yeah, man. Storms or something. I have to go back and do an extra shift though. Next week.” Okay, so he was acting relatively normal, and I went with it. I grabbed some orange juice from the fridge and poured a glass.

  My bedroom door creaked then, and Mr. Broody came out looking even sexier than the night before, if that was possible. His hair was messed up, but it suited him. Wearing just his pants, he tiptoed out as if he was trying to make a stealth escape, which was kind of impossible considering he’d have to go right past Jamieson and me. Running over to him, I grabbed his elbow and directed him to the door before Jamieson could ask too many questions.

  Do I say thanks now, or what? I pondered. Usually the men disappeared into the night. No awkward morning-afters. Mr. Broody was obviously more of a quick thinker than I was when he pulled me to the hall area by our jackets and gave me a deep and passionate kiss that was rough and hot and gentle all at the same time. Then, he picked up his shirt and shoes from the floor and grabbed his coat.

  “Thank you,” I think I said, and then he was gone. And I was left in a daze, touching my lips, again.

  3

  MARSHALL

  “Brenna!” Thank god, she picked up the phone. I was at the end of the road by the hot guy’s street, and panting. “I … ah, had an accidental sleepover.” How lame did that sound. “But Jess has been left alone for too many hours. Do you think she’ll be okay?”

  “Calm down, Marshall. When you didn’t answer after I called about the race-car toy, I went over. Jess is completely fine and will be happy to see you as soon as you get home.”

  “You’re a lifesaver. Thanks.”

  “Okay, you’re welcome. Now how was your hot night out?” I was blushing even though she couldn’t see me and in no mood to discuss my hookup, so I faked some static in the background and told her I had to go. Not that
I needed to fake it with her, not really. Brenna knew I never answered personal questions and avoided them at all costs.

  The taxi I hailed pulled up. I crawled into the backseat and told the driver my address. The entire ride I couldn’t stop tapping my knee, feeling out of sorts and anxious. I’d never stayed over with a one-night stand. Fuck, why did he have to feel so glorious? That had been so damn risky too.

  When we’d woken in the night, he’d brought me to the edge again and again before finally letting me come. Not that I’d tell him, or anyone really, but that was the hottest sex of my life, like he knew my body and sensed what I wanted and needed.

  But fuck, what a rookie mistake to fall asleep with his warm body in my arms and to let him get close enough for me to cuddle him and not want to leave. Well, one slip up. Happens to everybody, I thought absently.

  “This is your stop, sir.”

  “Right, right, sorry.” I handed him £40. “Keep the change. Thank you.” Then I got out and ran up the steps to my flat. As I opened the door, the sound of little paws clicked on the hardwood flooring. I crouched down and let Jess kiss, well, lick my face.

  “My baby. I’m sorry I left you.” Clutching Jess, I picked her up in my arms and rubbed between her ears. “I’m here. It’s okay now.” She nuzzled into my shoulder and all was well with the world again.

  I counted myself lucky to have one full day off before my next fashion shoot. It was a lovely day, so I decided Jess and I would go to the park. I put her down and got in the shower to get freshened up, trying to distract myself from thinking back to last night: how he felt, how we moved together, and the way he could read me like a book.

  Grabbing a coffee along the way, Jess and I headed out into the beautiful sunshine—truly a rare occurrence—as she trotted beside me on her lead. I kept a ball cap placed low on my forehead and wore sunglasses, hoping it would allow me to have a day in peace without being recognized.

  4

  STUART

  “Oh. My. God!” Jamieson was being even more overdramatic than I was ever capable of—so something must be up.

  “What is it?” I questioned, as I ran away from the hot kiss and back to the table. “Is everything okay?”

  “You never told me you knew him. How did you keep that from me?” He pushed his finger into my chest as he kept talking—not making much sense to me at all.

  “Haud yer wheesht. What are you even talking about? I …” No, I wouldn’t say I didn’t even know his name, but … “Wait, you know him?” I cleared my throat. “Ah, have you had him too?” Talk about awkward. Wait, what if he’d stayed because he recognized my flat and wanted more action with Jamieson too?

  “Fuck, man. No. Not that I might not want to. But no. I wish—I mean ...” He paused, tried to gather his thoughts. “I know he’s super-hot, no denying that, but while I can enjoy the view, I never thought of him as really my type”—he shook his head—“but Marshall Easton … in person, in the flesh and … in my flat.” Jamieson was mumbling to himself and seemingly trying to talk himself into something.

  “Back up,” I said, utterly confused. “Who is Marshall Easton? And what does he have to do with anything?” Jamieson didn’t say a word and only pulled out one of the gossip magazines he loved to devour religiously each week. He flipped open a page, and looking back at me was the hottest man I’d probably ever witnessed, hell, probably anyone in the world had. He stood in the bright blue ocean wearing only small swim trunks as his tanned abs glistened in the sun. His strong jawline was accentuated by his dark hair that was pushed back from his face.

  “Wow. Very sexy. A model for L’Hola cologne.” I stared at the hot man in the picture while I stroked his clean-shaven photo, then I glanced up at Jamieson. “Still don’t think I understand what he has to do with me—or my guest.”

  “Dude, that was him. You slept with Marshall Easton—only the hottest man on the planet.”

  “How do you even know this? He was hot, I’ll give you that. And stop saying his full name. It’s weird. Plus, he had that delectable stubble and his eye colour looks nothing like the photo, didn’t you see?”

  “Disguise, dumbass. I’ll tell you how I know. While he was creeping past us, I saw a small crescent-moon-like scar across his back.” Snapping his hip, he continued. “Only the real fans know this tidbit, but it was from a schoolyard accident when he was younger. Plus, the makeup people cover it up for any photographs or videos.”

  Looking like a comedy act, my face darted from the magazine to Jamieson to the front door and back again. “Nah, for sure it’s not him. Why would he be incognito at a gay club. And I didn’t notice a scar.” I smirked. “Well, I was busy doing other things.”

  “Yeah, that surprised me too. He’s been seen at some parties and galas with women but they never last long. Probably keeping it on the down low. Don’t worry, tell him his secret is safe with me.” He chuckled, then said as an afterthought, “If I can have an autograph.”

  “And how might I do that. I don’t know his name. And will never see him again.”

  “I’m telling you, it’s him. His height, the way he moves … You can tell.” I thought back to our night, but I couldn’t even fathom the fact that I may have slept with the world’s hottest male model. God, I was starting to sound like Jamieson now.

  I walked over to my desk near the corner of the living room, which doubled as a sort of an office for me to catch up on orders and sketch some scenery shots I’d taken last time I was home. There had been snow on the ground, which was unusual, but made for beautiful scenery to replicate.

  The day passed quickly and soon I was eating cereal for dinner on the sofa and watching a home decorating show. Then the ad for L’Hola Cologne flashed on the screen, and I paid attention when I never had before.

  In slow motion, Marshall pushed his hand through his hair, wearing nothing but very short shorts and then dove into Tiffany-blue water. When he reappeared, he was wet from head to toe and holding the cologne bottle in his hand. The smouldering, almost broody look he gave the camera reminded me briefly of the other night at the bar. No. No, it couldn’t be. There was no possible way.

  The next morning, I got ready to go for a run before seeing Jess. It was a nice, if cool, morning and even though I walked briskly with Jess, I could do with a run as well. I tapped on Jamieson’s door to see if he wanted to come, but he was dead to the world.

  I jogged down the sidewalk and into the nearby park. There was a path that circled its edge, which suited me perfectly, so I ran and listened to some music on my headphones. Once I circled back home, I showered and saw Jamieson was still sleeping.

  I still had an hour until I would go and get Jess, so I went to the post office to mail some of my paintings to various customers. Walking in the city was invigorating for me. I loved the variety of people and the bustling air it held.

  When I reached the large loft where Jess lived, I couldn’t help but wonder again who her owner was. The person had to be quite well off. I had seen the prices of a few listings for sale in that area when I was initially looking to rent. I knew these lofts had been converted into larger spaces. Sets of two or three smaller flats had walls knocked down to create large, open-air, modern spaces. I shook my head and tried to focus. Jamieson constantly had me playing guess-the-mystery-person or something with every aspect of my life. And if I replayed that night too much, I’d realize how I’d love to have him again in heartbeat. That never happened. As with every hookup, it was great to have the release, but I was always ready to go again with the next guy.

  Letting myself into Jess’s house, I heard her trot over to me and I bent down. “Hey, little lassie.” She licked my face. “I missed you too. Now, tell me all about your owner. I just assumed they are a male, but maybe not.” In response, I got a bark. “Okay, okay. I’ll stop talking now.” I grabbed the lead and poop bags from their usual place on the hook by the door and clicked the lead onto Jess’s collar.

  “Let’s go, lass.” Je
ss answered with another little bark, and I locked the door and we were off. I patted her head then we walked along the road to the park. Beautiful large trees shaded the walkway. It was warm now that it was the afternoon. Jess would probably be happy to stay here all day. She loved the park. Couldn’t say I blamed her.

  I stopped for an ice cream and let Jess have a lick. As she trotted along beside me, I thought about what a wonderful pet she was and how lucky her owner was to have her. We sat on a bench and I sketched the lake and the water feature. My Scottish scenes were the biggest sellers, but it wouldn’t hurt to draw this area for some practice. Depth perception and perspective could always be polished.

  On the walk back to the flat, we occasionally veered off the path as Jess was determined to have her usual fill of sniffing and licking trees. When we got back into the flat, I found the box of toys and let Jess pick one out. She chose the rubbery slice of pizza then ran back and forth along the length of the flat.

  Afterwards, she ate some food from her bowl and I gave her fresh water from the refrigerator. She seemed happy and I left her owner a sketch of Jess and a note with what we’d done and to have a good day.

  When I’d applied to the dog walking and housesitting agency, they’d said that their clients’ privacy was crucial and I took that very seriously. I had lots of experience from back home—with stellar references—and I was overjoyed when I’d gotten the job. I had only met Jess’s mysterious owner’s personal assistant so far. I didn’t ask too many questions, and I think that worked in my favour. Locking up, I went home.