His Vampire Harem_Harem Paranormal Romance [Gay] Page 8

  “Amy, let your weight drop onto Darius a bit more.”

  “I’m worried I’ll squash him.”

  “You’re light as a feather,” Darius said.

  “And he’s a man,” Jane added. “He can handle a woman on top of him.”

  Amy raised her eyebrows at Darius.

  He frowned.

  “Stop! Stop! This is all wrong.” The photographer pushed past me. “You, girl, up here, get on the stool.”

  “What are you doing?” Jane said, scowling at him.

  “You pay me for my artistic genius as much as for my camera, right?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “Then trust me.” The photographer pointed at me. “You get on the bed, with the other guy. Girl model, sit on this stool holding the drink.” He turned back to Jane who was looking unsure. “This will work much better. I mean, what worse deceit for a woman with two lovers than to find out they’re fucking each other behind her back?”

  Jane rubbed her bottom lip and glanced between me and Darius.

  A thrill went through me. I was going to switch places with Amy.

  “It’s a much better twist,” the photographer said. “We’ll try it, if you don’t like it we’ll go back to the original plan.”

  “Okay.” Jane nodded. “I do like it.”

  I slipped over to the bed, passing Amy who now wore a scowl. She’d obviously enjoyed being up close and personal with Darius.

  Who wouldn’t?

  I crawled onto the bed, anticipation rushing through me.

  Darius hadn’t moved, he was on his back, his head on pillows so his profile was to the camera and his arms at his sides.

  “Hey,” I said.

  He swallowed and then smiled.

  “You okay?”

  “Yeah.” His attention drifted over my torso, settling on the silk boxer shorts.

  Fuck, don’t do that, I’ll get hard.

  “Right then.” Jane stepped up to the bed. “George, can you lie between Darius’s legs, the way Amy was, and rest your chest on his. That way you’ll look super connected and we’ll get shots of you staring into each other’s eyes.”

  “Yes, I need lust and longing, desire, desperation,” the photographer said, his enthusiasm for the shoot apparently growing. “The forbidden touch is always the sweetest, we all thrive on danger.”

  I moved between Darius’s legs. His skin was deliciously warm against mine. Our groins touched, then our abs and finally our chests.

  My asshole quivered as I stared into his beautiful eyes. A dragging sensation pinched at my balls and my cock stirred.

  “Fuck,” he muttered.

  “What’s up?”

  “Something will be.”

  I smiled and lowered my head. “Just think, we’re getting paid for this.”

  “That’s it,” the photographer shouted, “perfect, lips hovering but not quite kissing. Hold that pose.”

  After several seconds, I decided to ad lib and stroked my hand up Darius’s arm, absorbing his heat, as I kept my lips a whisper from his. He smelled of soap and blood, a little of charcoal too, I guessed that was the fire in him.

  “Model underneath, pull your knees up higher. Grip your lover. Clasp him like you’ve been waiting to do this all day, biding your time until your femme fatale was out of sight. Let’s crank up the temperature. You might get away with it in some magazines, Jane.”

  “Yes, good, yes…indeed.” Jane sounded as excited as I felt.

  Darius did as instructed, locking me to him with his inner thighs and knees.

  The camera clicked away as the photographer moved nearer.

  I held in a groan. My cock was hardening rapidly.

  So was his.

  I stared at him, our noses almost touching. The urge to kiss him was getting stronger, as was the urge to grind against him, work us both to a frenzy of pleasure.

  “Amy, hold the drink higher, stare into space,” Jane said. “This is great, keep at it, boys. You look like you’re totally in love and lust.”

  Fuck, lust was taking over. I clenched my ass and pushed into his groin so our hard cocks slid over each other.

  He gasped against my mouth. His heart was thudding. I could not only feel it against my chest, I could hear it too.

  My mouth watered and my fangs tingled. I wanted to feed and fuck. Damn it, I wanted to fuck. I was becoming mindless with want. Primitive urges were in danger of taking over, both my vampire ones and my needs as a male.

  “George,” he whispered, the word breathy and quiet.

  “Keep still,” I said, my lips brushing his, “nearly there.”

  “Good, yes, that’s it.” The photographer clapped. “Super work, we’ll see what we’ve got but I don’t think anything is going to beat that last shot, you look utterly lost in your own world, the female in the shot is irrelevant to you. And by the time we edit your devil horns in, peeking from your hair, just super. Brilliant.”

  I tore my attention from Darius.

  The photographer was grinning, his beard wobbling. “You guys are hot together. There’s tension, interest and wow, some serious sexual chemistry.”

  Jane rushed to the photographer. “Let me see. Are they as good as I think they’re going to be?”

  “Hell yeah.”

  I turned back to Darius. His eyes were sparkling, and the pulse in his cock was vibrating through to my shaft.

  “I’m hard,” he whispered.

  “I can tell.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. In case you hadn’t noticed, I’ve got a full blown erection going on too.”

  He swiped his tongue over his lips. “I had noticed.” He paused. A rise of color was blooming on his cheeks, beneath his set make-up. “We should move…the shoot is over.”

  “I don’t want to.” I smiled. I could stay here all day. Holding my breath, I risked another small push over him.

  Pleasure shot through my cock. It must have his, too, because he fluttered his eyes closed and moaned.

  “Hey, guys, it’s a wrap, in case you hadn’t noticed.” Amy stood at the side of us with her hands on her hips. “Time to stop doing whatever it is you’re doing.”

  I clenched my jaw. Sometimes it was hard to stick to the rules and not drain humans dry, especially when they were so fucking annoying.

  “Yeah, we’re getting up now,” Darius said, his voice hoarse. He turned to look at her. “Are the pictures good?”

  “Good?” she said with a huff. “They’re going to set magazines and billboards on fire.”

  “Fire,” Darius repeated, touching my shoulders. “Set…on…fire.”

  I thought of the sparks Lloyd had seen leaving his fingertips and wondered how they’d feel splashing onto my flesh.

  “Yeah, hurry up, you two lover boys can take me to lunch.” Amy turned and stalked away, her heels clacking on the hard floor.

  Lunch with Amy. Not a chance. I pushed her from my thoughts and smiled down at Darius. I gave in to the urge to touch his hair and stroked a lock hanging over his ear. It was heavy with product but still silky soft. “We really should go and get changed.” I wondered if he’d hear the reluctance in my tone.

  “Are you kidding? Stand up and let everyone see my boxers tented? I’ll look like I’ve got a banana down there.”

  “I feel your pain.”

  A muscle flexed in his jawline, then, “I feel you.”

  “Would you like to feel more?” I whispered. “Forget lunch. We could go somewhere private and I could bend you over and take us both to places that’ll feel so damn good we’ll forget our own names.” I paused. “I’ll make you come so hard, Darius.”

  A flash of excitement seared over his eyes, but then his lips thinned as he flattened them together and turned away.

  Damn it. I’ve pushed too far.

  He shoved at me, forcing me to lift from between his legs.

  He rolled to his side, knees half drawn up to hide his groin.

 
“Here.” A make-up lady appeared, holding two black robes.

  “Thanks.” Darius grabbed for his and pulled it on, remaining hunched as he did so.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I just thought—”

  He glanced over his shoulder at me. “You thought wrong.”

  Chapter Seven

  Darius

  I stared at the framed photograph on the wall of my expensive Chelsea flat. It was of me. I was in Prague on a shoot. I especially liked it. Wenceslas Square was ornate, so much to look at, and the moody black and white shot captured a moment in time. Passers-by went about their business and street artists performed in the distance while I posed, face held to the sky, wearing the latest trendy suit from a high-end designer.

  Many of my shots I could take or leave, they were of me, what I saw in the mirror. But Prague had been a great place to visit, and the picture reminded me of it.

  I sighed, my thoughts drifting back to George as they had done since I’d met him earlier that day. He was devilishly handsome and he spoke nicely too, confident and sophisticated, with a well to-do accent that suited the way he carried himself. As he’d been nestled between my legs he’d offered me everything I’d been thinking of. Promised to make my fantasies come true. Yet I’d turned him down, walked away. Been quite rude probably.

  All afternoon I’d had a semi-erect cock. My first experience of feeling another hard shaft against mine was not something I could forget in a hurry.

  I turned from the picture, my thoughts in a jumble. It wasn’t just George stealing them, tugging my fantasies and dreams, it was also Lloyd, sexy and mysterious and unperturbed by my sparks. Brooding biker Oscar who’d been the first person I’d ever told I was gay. Then cute Rhys who’d made me think of doing deliciously sinful things to him, and made me think he wanted them as much as me.

  Damn it, there were four men in my daydreams. What did that make me? A tart? A male gigolo?

  “Get a grip,” I muttered, wandering into the kitchen. I poured a glass of red wine, it was gone six so perfectly acceptable.

  As I took a second sip, my cell trilled to life. The screen flashed Lloyd – Paris, which was what I’d saved him as.

  My heart rate picked up. My belly clenched. I was aware of my breath heating in my lungs.

  “Hey,” I said, trying to sound casual.

  “Darius, it’s me, Lloyd. You remember, we met in Paris.”

  “Of course.” I paused. “How are you?”

  “Okay. Well, actually I’m at a loose end, wondered if you fancied meeting up this evening.”

  “This evening?”

  “No time like the present.”

  I glanced around my pristine but empty flat. It wasn’t as if I had any plans other than watching television. In fact I had nothing going on until the following afternoon when I was doing a shoot in Notting Hill. “I guess you’re right.”

  “I’m not sure where you live, Darius, but right now I’m near Sloane Square. How would that suit?”

  Sloane Square was only a short stroll away. “Sure, that’ll work.”

  “Great, there’s a bar there, The Pig and Pickle. Shall we say seven?”

  “Seven is cool with me.” A swirl of anticipation gripped my belly. “I’ll see you then.”

  I ended the call and stared at the screen. Had I just arranged a date with a handsome man I’d met in Paris?

  Or was he only seeking friendship?

  I hoped not.

  He did say I was beautiful.

  I tugged my plain white t-shirt off and headed to the shower, undoing my Levi’s as I went. If this was my moment, my chance to connect with a guy the way I truly wanted to, I needed to get ready.

  An hour later I stood outside The Pig and Pickle. It was a traditional old red brick pub brimming with colorful hanging baskets, and with wooden benches on the pavement outside. The lead paned windows were high, giving no indication as to what was going on inside.

  I pushed through the green door and paused for a moment to let my eyes adjust to the dim light.

  The bar was polished and set with drafts. There were a few guys sipping beer and talking to a barman. Several patrons sat at tables and two booths were occupied, one with a group, the other with a couple. The farthest booth only contained one occupant.

  Lloyd.

  Like before he was dressed in a dark hoody, this time the sleeves were shoved up his forearms and the hood was down. Before him sat what looked like a pint of cola.

  I nodded and walked toward him, trying to beat down the nerves growing in my guts. He was such a good looking guy. With his crew cut blond hair, his wide, kissable mouth, and blue eyes, he could easily have signed with my agency.

  “Hey,” he said, making no move as I approached.

  “Hi.” I stood at the head of the table and twisted my denim jacket between my hands. “Do you, er, need a drink?”

  “Nah, I’ve just got this one.”

  It didn’t appear touched.

  “Ah, okay, I’ll get one then.”

  I decided to copy Lloyd and bought a pint of cola. I’d gotten the impression he avoided alcohol, and if he had a problem I didn’t want to tempt him or exacerbate it.

  Once seated opposite Lloyd, I tried to relax by releasing a breath and willing my core temperature to settle.

  “You got back to London okay, then,” he said.

  “Yeah, easy flight.”

  “Marvellous to be able to hop around the globe the way we do these days, don’t you think?”

  “I can’t imagine a life without air travel.”

  He smiled a little. “You’ve been all over then? With your job.”

  “Yes, I’ve been very lucky.”

  “You got a favorite place?”

  I took a sip of my drink.

  He spun his around on the small cardboard beer mat it sat on.

  “I suppose.” I thought for a second. “Some of the European cities are amazing, Prague, Barcelona, Berlin.”

  “You’re a city guy?”

  “For now. Maybe when I get older I’ll buy a flat cap and live in the countryside with a couple of Labradors.”

  He chuckled. “I can see you in a flat cap.”

  “I’ve worn pretty much everything in my line of work. Today it was a toga.”

  “Now that I would have liked to see.”

  His gaze slipped downward, as if imagining me in it.

  I squirmed on the seat, remembering George and how he’d looked so regal and hot in his outfit, as though it was something he was used to swanning about in.

  “So what was the shoot for today?” Lloyd asked.

  “Turned out to be different from what I’d expected.”

  He nodded and waited for me to go on.

  “It was for a gin company, they’ve got two flavors which represent loyalty and deceit.”

  “So they had you doing what?” He pushed his drink to the side and leaned forward, his elbows on the table.

  I studied his eyes. Like before, in Paris, his face was in partial shadow owing to the low lighting at the back of the pub, but that didn’t detract from his appeal.

  “I was with another male model and a female, they had us…” I swallowed as I remembered my cock in alignment with George’s.

  “Go on.” He licked his lips.

  “They had us on a bed, me and…him…were her loyal admirers for the first shot, and then…” I clenched my ass cheeks. My cock was swelling again. “And then it was just us guys on the bed for the deceit bit.”

  “So you two were an item?”

  “That’s what the image is supposed to say.”

  “And were you still in togas for the second shot?”

  I shook my head.

  “What then?”

  “Black silk boxers.”

  His mouth slipped into wide smile and his eyes narrowed. “I’d give good money to see you in black silk boxers, Darius.”

  Whoa.

  Okay, that confirmed my suspicions and what I�
��d hoped this evening was. Lloyd was gay, he was attracted to me, and this was a date.

  “So who was the other model?” he asked. “Anyone famous?”

  “No, new on the scene from what I gathered, but very professional.” If getting a hard on and offering to bend me over and forget my own name was professional.

  “What’s he called?”

  “George.” I shrugged. “There’s lots of models on the circuit though, all gorgeous.”

  “He’s gorgeous?” Lloyd raised his eyebrows.

  “Of course, he’s a model. But chances of me bumping into him again are slim.”

  “I dunno. It’s a small world.” He reached over and touched my right hand with the tips of his fingers. “I’ve been thinking about what I saw that night we met.”

  I straightened. “You have?”

  “Yeah, those sparks. How the Hell did you do it? A magic trick or something.”

  I laughed, though it sounded tense even to my own ears. “A magic trick, yep, you caught me.”

  He traced his finger over my knuckles, his cool touch sending shivers of pleasure up my arm. “You can trust me, Darius. I understand about being different, about living a life less ordinary.”

  “You do?”

  “Yeah.” He glanced to the left. “And talking of small worlds, that’s my cousin, Rhys, over there.”

  I turned, but even as I did I had a sense of who’d walked into The Pig and Pickle.

  Rhys Muller, the sweet guy who’d fixed my mother’s washing machine the day before.

  “Rhys,” I repeated. “Again.”

  “You know him?” Lloyd’s eyebrows raised, but for some reason I didn’t think he seemed that surprised.

  “Er, not really.”

  Lloyd shrugged. “Hey, Rhys!”

  Rhys turned and instantly a cute smile grew on his face. “Hi.” He pointed between us. “Anyone need a drink?”

  Lloyd glanced at my near full drink. “Nah, we’re good.”

  “Do you have lots of family living nearby?” I asked Lloyd.

  “No, just Rhys, a few mates and that, but my parents are long dead.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “It really was a long time ago.” Again he swirled his untouched drink on the beer mat. “So how do you know Rhys?”

  “He fixed my mom’s washing machine yesterday. It was very kind of him.”