Page 22 of Jace
Jace and I talk about everything. Everything except for the one thing we really want: each other.
“Yeah, well.” He scoffs. “I don’t know any straight man alive who wouldn’t be very pleased to see you and your sexy little tits wearing these and nothing else.”
He points to the five-foot angel wings in the box. I know he’s innocently trying to make me feel better about my body, and it works.
But he’s also eyeing me with an intensity that makes my lips part.
Jace is lettingthisbuild. Whateverthisis between us. Between my thighs. Between his legs. It’s getting hard. It has a thundering pulse.
He licks his lips. “Just say the word, Viv, and I’ll take the shot.”
I hear everything he means.
Say the word, and he’ll take a sexy picture of me. Say the word, and he’ll make me feel desired. Say the word, and we’ll unleash this passion. Say the word, and we’ll be way more than friends.
I want what Jace wants so much.
But I can’t.
If David suspects that I’m in love with another man, he’ll post the video. He’ll destroy me.
But he can’t ruin this: my treasured friendship. Jace has proven his devotion. I’ve proven my loyalty. We’re close friends, even though we can’t get any closer.
“Uh-huh. Alright, big boy.” I joke. I keep us going. “My tits for your tats. If you can take a picture of me, naked, in these wings, I’ll take a picture of you in them too.”
He throws his chiseled chin up, laughing. “You think I’m too shy to do it? Think again.”
“You can’t be serious.” I laugh. “You’d actually do it? You’d get buck naked and wear angel wings and let me take a picture of you?”
He bounces his thick brows, smirking. “Cheese.”
I narrow my happy eyes, seriously contemplating this temptation. Because that’s what it’d be: a temptation I couldn’t handle. But I love our laughs. “So if I?—”
“Excuse me?”
A woman’s voice sings out. It’s coming from the landing between my studio and the showroom.
“Excuse us?” she calls again. “Is anyone here to help? We’re here for our pleasure throne.”
“Shit,” Jace mutters. “Vale said she’d be late today. So I gotta help.”
He brushes past me to meet the customers down the hall, but they surprise us, suddenly appearing in the doorway.
“Hi!” A beaming petite woman with long dark curls and stunning brown skin waves. “Hope we’re not interrupting.”
Behind her stands a man almost as imposing as Jace. But this man has dark ink on his handsome light face, his neck, his hands. I know who he is. A local, religious icon—Pastor Sire Rutledge. And that’s his beautiful, young wife, Wren. They’ve shopped here many times. They don’t hide their heavenly sex life.
That’s how I met Wren before, shopping for sex toys. She said Jace is friends with the pastor. I think Jace even safely escorted her back to her husband’s church.
“No. We’re just, uh—” Jace tries ushering them back, but Wren doesn’t budge.
She peeks around him, chirping, “Hi, I’m Wren Rutledge. We met a few months ago.” She’s not talking to Jace. She’s smiling at me. “And this is my husband, Sire. Think I mentioned him. How he’s Jace’s, uh… pastor. Anyway. We’re here buying dildos all the time and vi?—”
“Yes, ma’am,” Jace interrupts, ire straining his voice, but his eyes are amused. “You’re loyal customers, we know. But our manager isn’t here. So how canIhelp you?”
“We just came in to pick up our oral sex throne.” Wren leans around Jace; she’s focused on me. “My husband is excited to use it on me. You know, so I can sit on his face. Some call it a queening chair, but what’s all this?”
She gestures at my studio, and I grin, stifling my giggle, excited to meet a potential client with no filters or fear. “Oh, this is for boudoir shots.”
