Read Cover Model for Free Online Page B

sex bunker ropes. Poor women. I repress a shiver.
    I notice Connor’s eyes are pinned on Ted. He’s watching the guy like a hawk. What’s that about?
    Ted says to me, “So, why are you here again?”
    “I’m doing the interview.”
    “Oh? Who do you work for?”
    Why do Ted’s questions make me feel like he’s invading my privacy? “Uh, Trending Magazine ?” It’s not like telling him that reveals anything important about me.
    “Do you have your own blog or Facebook or something? Where you post your articles?”
    “Um, no,” I lie. Ted is making me increasingly uncomfortable.
    “Do you have a card? I do a lot of freelance photography for other journalists. Maybe we could exchange emails and—” I could tie you up in my smelly sex bunker and lick your face with my filthy tongue “—work together some time?”
    A deep voice booms behind Ted. “You sure ask a lot of questions for a photographer, Ted,” Connor says ominously. He’s a mountain of muscle towering over the smaller man.
    Ted nearly jumps when he notices how close Connor is standing. The fact that Connor is very naked and standing mere inches behind Ted adds a certain Jailhouse Justice vibe to the moment. Ted gulps audibly.
    Connor says to him, “Maybe you should get to work setting up. Ted .”
    Relief washes over me. I turn my head to the side, repressing a grin.
    “Yeah, yeah,” Ted grumbles nervously as he retreats to the far corner of the room. He starts snapping together a lighting tripod while shooting dirty looks at Connor’s back.
    Wow, I can’t believe Connor stood up for me. That’s a first. I didn’t think he had a nice bone in his body.
    Bev turns to Connor, “Do you mind if I start your makeup?”
    “Sure. Where do you want me?” Connor grabs a pair of black boxer briefs off the floor and steps into them.
    Bev relaxes noticeably now that Connor’s privates are covered. “How about by the window where the light is good?”
    “Sounds great.” Connor sits on the table top.
    Bev goes to work applying foundation with a foam wedge.
    Connor glances at me. “Why don’t you start with your questions, Warmoth. I’ve got nothing but time.”

    <<<<<<<>>>>>>>

    CONNOR

    “First question,” Electra says, facing me in a chair by the window.
    “Shoot—” my load all over that pretty mouth of yours, my mind finishes. Electra is crazy fuckin hot. I can’t stop staring at her sweet-ass lips. I would kill to have her wrap that fiery mouth of hers around my cock and go to town. My dick is raging in my boxer briefs. It’s pointing straight at her. I may have fucked Babe What’s Her Name an hour ago, but I’d do anything to have Electra hike up her skirt and sit on my dick. Then I’d grab those perfect hips of hers while she rode me like a horse at a merry-go-round. I want to come inside her so bad right now I can’t think straight.
    Fuck.
    I’m going nuts.
    Speaking of nuts, thanks to my hard on, my boxers are all bound up and digging into my balls. I shift on the table, trying to get some relief. I feel bad for Bev, but she’s a trooper. She ignores my giant rager and applies my makeup like this is business as usual. Who knows? Maybe it is. Maybe she does makeup for porn.
    “How did you get started as a cover model?” Electra asks. “Were you discovered? I’m sure your fans would love to know.”
    I smirk to myself.
    Being a model seems great until you know why I became one. Then you wouldn’t wish my life on your worst enemy. But nobody wants to hear that sad shit. They want a glory story. How I got discovered surfing or base jumping, or shit, while I was working at a gas station. And how everything was golden after that: money, bitches, mansions, blah blah blah.
    People want to hear about rags to riches.
    Not rags to shit.
    Nobody wants to believe that being any kind of celebrity is weird and twisted and so much bullshit I avoid like the plague.
    “Well?” Electra prompts.
    “My agent saw me in a club on Sunset.