1
Marshall
I lift my sweat-drenched T-shirt, exposing my chest and stomach to the slight breeze created by my movement, and wipe some of the sweat off my forehead before it can reach my eyes. That shit burns like a motherfucker.
I don’t miss a beat, my feet hitting the pavement rhythmically as I let my shirt fall back into place. The morning sun scorches the back of my neck and the top of my head. I thought seven in the morning would be early enough for a run, but I still have a hell of a lot to learn about living in the damn desert. Tomorrow I’ll have to try for five a.m. and hope that’s a better time to get my run in for the day.
I come to a crosswalk and stop at the command of the big, red hand that says it’s not safe to cross yet. I take the opportunity to chug half my water bottle and wipe my face again, although my shirt is so wet at this point, it’s not doing much good.
I glance over and catch the interested gaze of a beautiful woman. She’s dressed to kick ass and take names: a crisp power suit, paired with bright red pumps and a confident smile on her lips. My cock takes interest, which isn’t ideal when wearing a pair of thin running shorts.
The light changes, and I consider asking for her number, then think better of it. I moved to Vegas for a fresh start, not to fall right back into my old patterns of failed relationship after failed relationship. Even if she is exactly my type. Some Doms like sweet and a little bit helpless. Others like bratty, but nothing turns my crank harder than confidence. A sub with their shit together, giving me the gift of their submission...pure fucking bliss.
I settle for shooting her a flirty wink, then take off again, going hard for the final few blocks until I reach my apartment. As soon as I step into the building, I curse myself for renting in a building without an elevator. I normally don’t mind the few flights of stairs, but that run took it out of me.
I take a breath, my chest heaving with the effort of my run, and then push myself to sprint up the stairs, using the last of my energy reserves but being rewarded with a burst of endorphins.
As soon as I’m through the door of my apartment, I strip my shirt over my head, beelining for the bathroom. A glance at the time tells me I’ll be cutting it close to making it to the team building Hunter—no way in hell am I calling him Daddy—has planned for today.
I start the shower, turning the knob a few degrees cooler than lukewarm, and hop right in. The cold water feels like heaven against my overheated skin, sending goose bumps skittering over my body as the sweat and dust from the run are washed away.
I grab the bar of soap off the little ledge, lather it up between my hands, and rub the suds on the top of my smooth head and then over the rest of my body. I wasn’t always so fit. In fact, ten years ago, I would’ve laughed if someone would have told me I’d ever have six-pack abs.
I was a chubby kid who loved food, and I never had a problem with that. My weight never hindered me in any way and certainly never made it difficult to get a date, but then my dad died of a heart attack unexpectedly at the age of forty-seven. Technically he was my stepdad, but he was more of a father than my biological one. It was a wake-up call when he passed. I started eating healthier and discovered running isn’t actually as bad as I always thought it was. Don’t get me wrong. I can still throw down a couple of cheeseburgers with the best of them, but I add in salads and shit now too.
I finish rinsing off the soap, turn off the water, and jump out.
I don’t live far from Kinky Boys studios, so once I’m dressed, it doesn’t take long for me to haul ass over there.
“Nice of you to join us,” Hunter calls out as I stride into the studio, finding everyone else already gathered there, clearly waiting on me. Oops, guess I’m a little late after all.
“How was I going to capture the attention of everyone in the room if I got here on time?” I joke, smirking at the man I simply can’t see as my boss, even if he is signing my paychecks these days.
When Hunter called me a few months ago and told me he was starting a gay porn studio focusing on kink here in Vegas, I thought he was crazy. But I figured taking the consulting job he was offering was as good of an excuse as any to get out of New York and have a fresh start in a whole new state. I just wish I’d realized how god-awfully hot it is out here.
“We were just discussing what kinks we already have experience with and what we’re most excited to try on-screen,” Glam explains, leaning forward to shoot me a flirty smile.
“Cool.” I’m not entirely sure why Hunter wanted me here this morning. I get why he wants the models to bond. They’re going to be doing scenes and having sex with each other, so a level of comfort is important for safety as well as for the quality of the final product. But I’m nothing more than a kink consultant. “I guess talking about everyone’s kink is better than trust falls or some shit.”
Byron, one of the models, laughs, a loud snort coming through his nose. His cheeks turn pink, and he slaps a hand over his mouth. “Sorry,” he mutters.
“Please, that was adorable,” Ian assures him.
Hunter calls everyone’s attention back, and I take a second to assess the group he’s assembled to get this studio off the ground. They all have the look, that’s for sure. The subs are cute and sweet, and the Doms are all typical Doms. I’d like to talk to him about finding men to break those stereotypes down the road, but these guys will do to start with. Although who knows if there will be a “down the road.” Not that I don’t think the studio will do well. It has the backing of the Ballsy Boys after all, so I’m sure it’ll do great. But I only committed to being here for six months. Whether I’ll decide to stay past that...well, time will tell.
Ziggy
I didn’t expect Marshall to have a sense of humor. I mean, come on, he looks like Jason Statham, for fuck’s sake. Hot, but in a badass, aloof way that radiates he’s miles above everyone else. Not that he wants to be, don’t get me wrong. It’s the difference between arrogance—which I detest—and being innate cool. He’s the latter.
But god help me, he has a sense of humor too, and that’s always been my weakness. I can resist charm or a smoking hot body, lord knows I have, but the looks combined with a sense of humor? It’s my kryptonite. Which doesn’t bode well, since it’s technically my first day on the job, and I’m supposed to make a good impression. Thank fuck he’s only a consultant and not someone I have to do scenes with. Otherwise, things could get awkward fast. For someone who is as fabulous as me, I sure major in awkward situations. Sigh.
“Would that work for you, Byron?” Daddy says, and oh boy, I must’ve tuned out because I have no idea what I would or would not be agreeing to.
“Be the main star in the Experimenting with Kink series,” Glam whispers, and I could kiss him for that.
“Sure,” I agree.
Daddy studies me with narrowed eyes for a few moments, maybe to make sure I actually know what I’m agreeing to. I can’t blame him, since I clearly wasn’t paying attention. “Okay,” he says finally. “You’ll be paired with Harley for the whole series, so I suggest you two get to know each other before the first scene. He’s an experienced Dom, so you’re in good hands, Byron.”