Role Model

Ah... another grand party thanking the countless donors who line our modeling agency's pockets.

It's always a large event, nothing cheap or realistic about it, and the donors that show are of all levels of status. Small indie clothing lines and photography groups to big-dog jewelry companies and politicians from every region and walk of life, even some that are foreign.

Sipping my drink, I perch on the edge of the round table draped in velvet, people-watching.

Nervous little fledgling models thrown into the lions' den with hearty paychecks as a honey trap to lure them to the party to "show all the company's talent," I spot some older models also given checks for a gathering they willingly walked into while they flirt with men with too much money to think straight.

And me? They paid me too. I was told to mingle, talk with the donors, thank them for supporting us as the face of the company--and at 21, having such a task was annoying, to say the least.

The company's most recognized, popular, and prolific model, reduced to a meet-and-greet figurehead...

My jaw twitches at the thought.

I refuse.

If they want to be thanked, they'll approach me and hope I care enough to pay them any mind.

And here comes a crowd now.

"Ms. Lilith Greyfox. A pleasure to see you, beautiful and well." I hum in response and feel him lift my hand to his lips and kiss my knuckles.

I narrow my eyes and pull my hand back to my side, nothing jerky or rude. Just something fast enough to say Ew while maintaining plausible deniability.

I'm approached by my more table-seasoned gentlemen--salt-and-pepper freaks--all grabbing my hand, touching my arms, cheek, and chin. The contact slowly grates on my patience. I finally get a break in the attention from men old enough to fucking retire... or be admitted into a retirement home.

Why is it always the wrinkly old bags of shit who choose to approach me... there are plenty of younger, more handsome men here... but if they aren't brave enough to walk up to me, then I don't want them.

I grunt in frustration and down my drink, reaching for another when my glass is plucked out of my hand. Spinning to snap, I choke on my words.

My eyes shoot to his hair first, a trained habit when surrounded by bags of dust and money.

Jet black... clearly dyed, but wavy and messy. I scan his face. There are small wrinkles, but... it doesn't sag or look like weathered leather--another point for him. Finally, I meet his lowered eyes as he pours my champagne. Gray rimmed with dark brown, unique and interesting.

"I can pour my own drink."

"I know." He scoffs, his voice gravelly and smooth. A juicy contradiction my brain sinks its claws into before forcing myself to release it. "But gorgeous women, such as yourself, should never be reduced to pretty faces and service. I'll pour it. Then I'll have someone sit with you to fill your cup."

"I don't need that."

"I don't care."

I look at his name badge and read:

P. Hawk

I don't recognize it.

He then hands me my champagne flute and walks away with my bottle, effectively stopping me from taking any more on my own.

Fucking annoying.

I take a gulp before a uniformed woman approaches me with a new champagne bottle... one I like.

"Ms. Greyfox."

I stare at her before emptying the glass and watching her instinctively step forward and offer to pour me more.

I throw my head to the side before I scan the crowd to watch him staring at me from a table near the center of the room, raising a glass to me. I tip my flute for the worker to fill, then raise it for a second in a mock toast before sipping it and smiling to myself.

"I didn't know we served this one at the gatherings."

"We don't normally, Ms. Greyfox... The donors often bring their own to drink. This is one of those."

I stiffen and scan the crowd, this time not finding him.

"Hm. I see."

The party marches on, and I'm approached by bored, weak-willed donors either begging for a glance or asking if I would like to be in a photo shoot for their product... many of which I agreed to. Give me the money, give me the exposure, feed me the fame and power.

Walking while being tailed by my drink girl, I catch tastes of drama. She and I gossip and laugh. She shares the things she's witnessed tonight alone, and I eat up the juicy details.

Party attendees try to order her to do things, and I just frown and glare, forcing them to find someone else.

I learned her name was Milo--well, Melissa, but she prefers Milo.

I share my champagne with her... she can't technically drink any herself, so I "force" her to drink by tipping the cup to her lips and allowing her to have some while we continue to snoop and sample the brewing trouble here and there, but that gravely smooth voice peeks above the hum of the crowd and makes us freeze and tune in.

"God, will you quiet it? I don't want to work with you."

My attention drags past countless faces, both familiar and new, before I find him slumped to the side in a chair with his back to me, his hand to his face, probably pinching the bridge of his nose.

I snicker and turn to leave when I hear her...

"Aw, come now, Mr. Hawkshaw. I could bring your makeup line to the next level."

Alexandria.

The only model literally willing to kill or sleep her way to the top, only to be second to me.

"I said no. Now leave me alone."

"You--" She turns and searches for something on the table.

A smug smile stretches across my lips when I pop a hip and wait for my glass to be refilled. Once I get my drink, I start the performance.

It starts with a saunter.

Then a feather-light touch along his shoulders as I circle him, making him jump slightly and his attention whip to me. I come to perch on his left thigh, crossing my legs and sipping as Alex spins back to him with a drink in her hand.

She hesitates for only a second when she sees me, only to go through with it.

I don't flinch.

But what does make me flinch is when my server steps between us and takes the bubbly splash for us.

"Did it get on you?"

"N-No. I'm fine."

She then kneels, swipes the floor and politely excuses herself before being replaced by a man.

I slowly drag my eyes to glare at the bitch who tried to make a fool of me and a donor. A poisonous glare melting her alive as she's seized by two security guards.

I liked that server.

"Thank you." Hawkshaw purrs.

I roll my eyes at him before uncrossing my legs.

"Tch." I shoot to my feet and snatch the bottle from the new server and sit at a nearby table, waiting for her to return, my glass empty.

Mr. Hawkshaw graces my table with his presence, with my server in tow. I light up before swallowing the reaction. She replaces the glass with a clean one and pours my drink, offering it to me.

"Thank you."

"My pleasure."

"I have to thank you again, Ms. Greyfox... I thought I was going to have to endure her all night. I have a favor for you... If you're so inclined."

"No."

"What if I say compensation is high-profile photoshoots and runway shows for a full year and direct sponsorship from my makeup brand?"

I narrow my eyes.

"The catch?"

"You're stuck with me until my return flight home."

"Tch." I stand and turn to storm off. "Let's go, Milo."

She quickly joins me at my side.

"Melissa." She stops in her tracks and deflates, looking away from me and staring at the floor.

I look at her, to him, then back again.

"I could pay her to be by your side until she dies... or force her to tightrope walk on a shoelace--I pay her salary. I own all the staff in this damn building. I'm not asking the world of you. Just your presence so they could stop hounding me... I know you know that feeling."

I narrow my eyes.

"Fine... All the photoshoots, runway shows, brand deals, and money--I also want her as well... I'm in dire need of an assistant anyway." I pay no mind to Milo as I stare down Hawkshaw. "Make it happen."

He scoffs and licks his lips like I just insulted him.

"Fine." He straightens his back and holds his hand out. "Pedro... Pedro Hawkshaw. CEO and creator of Peregrine Obsidian."

"Ah... that's who you are..."

I take his hand and shake it. Milo wraps around my shoulders and I smile small and soft before snapping out of it and hiding the show of emotion.

The rest of the event was just me and Milo hovering around Pedro and scaring off unwanted attention, with him returning the favor a few times. Before long, the party was over, and we were being driven to his fancy hotel. Milo was given her own room for the night while she got her affairs in order... She had no family to worry about leaving behind, but she did have a dog.

"And why do I need to accompany you here?" I hissed while sitting on the sofa.

"You think the hassling stops at the party? Not even close; your little modeling friends are opportunists."

I catch the glint of his wedding ring and say nothing, just turning to scroll on my Instagram before a knock vibrates the door.

I look at him, and he motions to the door.

Standing and swinging it open shows me two fledgling models freezing when I answer the door.

"What?"

They stammer and panic before skittering off.

This is going to be a long night.

The door is knocked on six more times before there is a long stretch of silence.

"An annoyingly popular man..."

"An effective deterrent."

I grit my teeth and sink heavily onto the couch before a heavy knock rocks the door. I lock eyes with Pedro, who is looking at the door with confusion and skepticism... all the knocks until now have been light and almost reluctant, but this... this was insistent. He stands to answer the door; I pull off my heels and pad after him.

"Mr. Hawshaw, love... We can still talk about this... I can show you exactly how good of a model I can be."

Alexandria.

I smile and snake my hands around his torso, snaking one hand in between the buttons of his shirt and the other undoing his belt.

"Pedro... Come to bed... Leave the door be." My face hidden behind his back, my hands worked, but I know she knows exactly who was talking.

I cup a surprisingly present hard-on as I pull him back and out of the door before winking at her and slamming the door, dropping all contact as the door slammed shut.

"An old man like yourself should be sleeping at this hour... not entertaining every tedious bump in the night."

A gentle nudge to let me leave now.

I look over my shoulder to see Pedro frozen at the door, staring at me with an unreadable look.

"I'm only 48..."

"Fucking only!?! God, you're a damn dinosaur." I look at him closer, trying to find evidence of his age and not finding it... "A damn catfishing dinosaur..."

I watch him narrow his eyes and smile at me, closing the distance between us.

"A catfish... Is that so?" His hand comes to pinch my face from under my jaw. "How old did you think I was?"

I yank my face free, my jaw clenching.

"30? I don't know, you don't look like you're made of leather and functioning off of hopes and dreams."

Another knock shakes the door, and I rise to my feet while Pedro sinks onto the couch, grabbing my wrist and pulling me to his lap.

"Forget about the door for a bit."

"What are you talking about? That's what I am here for, isn't it?"

"I never said that..." His hand finds my bare thigh. "I said you're stuck with me... I never said what or how. Which means, if I ask you to keep company here on this couch..."

"I say find a new plaything."

"Dang, and here I thought you and Melissa were friends."

"What?" I hiss.

"I'm just kidding..."

He pulls away from me completely, going so far as to set me on the couch and leave for his bedroom.

"I don't want to sully your perfect image... And a woman I can't mark with my teeth is no fun."

"Are you calling me fucking boring?" I shoot to my feet.

Pedro just laughs at me while leaning on the doorframe.

"And what if I am? Gonna throw a tantrum? Such a baby... I'm gonna go to sleep."

"No, you're not. You're gonna..." My heart was hammering in my chest as I danced around the word until I remembered his ring and rolled my eyes at myself. "Send me home. Or tell me Milo's room. 'Cause I'm done babysitting the elderly."

"You sound pouty... Poor thing. What's the matter, kid? Mad I won't play with you?"

"I don't play with married men."

I watch him stiffen, but he doesn't argue. Just pulls his ring off and shoves it in his pocket.

"Is that why you're so distant?"

I say nothing; I just stare at his pocket.

It would be wrong of me... I can't. I shouldn't.

"What, you want me all over you?" I feel my annoyance simmer. "You want me to beg you for things and play arm candy for you? You're cheating. This is cheating."

"Who are you convincing, me or you?" He walks over to me, not touching, just hovering over me with his hands in his pockets. "Because you don't need to tell me. But I'll tell you what. Whatever happens in this room will stay in this room. You wanna leave, fine. You wanna ride me 'til you see stars? Drop the attitude and hop on."

"I--You can't..."

His hand slowly raises to my throat and toys with the idea of squeezing.

"Why not? You want it, I want it, I don't see the problem... and I don't see you leaving either."

Why am I not leaving? Why aren't I running for the hills?

His lips press against my neck and work lower as I subconsciously raise my chin and try to blink the thickening fog away.

"You want money? You want status? You want power? But you wanna play innocent? Uh-uh, that's not how it works. You're not in the damn little leagues." He unzips my dress. "This is how the real game works. I can see you want to win... let me show you how to play."

Pedro scoops me off the couch, pulling my legs around his waist and carrying me to the room.

He falls back on the bed, landing with me on his lap, straddling him, my dress falling off my chest and pooling at my waist while he pulls his tie free and unbuttons his shirt.

"This is... I can't..."

His hands cup my hips and make me grind down into him.

"You... Sh-Shit. You feel like you're--doing just fine to me." he purrs.

The friction was feeding the daze. That's when Pedro grips a handful of my dress.

"Get it out of my damn way, Lilith."

I lift it over my head to show my favorite black and red matching set.

"Cute..." His fingers hook the wet crotch of my underwear and graze my clit, making me whimper. "Do you dress up like this for every outing? Or were you hoping to end the night with company?"

"That's none of your damn business, fossil."

"You wound me. What's up with this bratty little attitude while you grind against my finger like a needy little thing?"

I pin his wrist and grind harder.

"you owe me this much when you had me working like your shitty little bodyguard scaring off all the cowards, too pussy to play ball."

"Is that so? Then I guess you're right; rewards are in order..." He rolls us so that I'm on my back and pulls my underwear to the side, shoving two fingers inside and hooking up into me, spreading his fingers while they're inside and watching me stretch.

"Such hard work should always be rewarded."

"Pedro!"

"Ah ah shhhh, don't wanna give the tabloids something to gossip about, do we? Now come on, sweet thing, ruin your pretty little set for me."

"God, you just love to hear yourself speak, huh? Move your fucking fingers and shut the hell up."

"So bossy."

Hook.

"So rude."

Hook, hook, hook.

"You need to learn to ask nicely..." Then he slips them out, pulling on the stretchy fabric over my clit, leaving the only friction I receive to the mediocre rub of my underwear. "I know you can do it... say please."

I roll my eyes and reach down for myself, only to have my hand yanked out and pinned above my head.

"I said say it."

"Pedro."

He spreads my legs and grinds against me.

"Please, fossil, I'm sorry."

I earn a hickey on my breast and neck before he frees my wrist, frees himself, and slides right inside.

"Such a good girl, begging and apologizing so well for me." A couple of rough thrusts later and I'm melting into the mattress.

"Slow down, O-Old man, you're gonna throw out a hip."

Pedro growls in annoyance before lifting a leg over his shoulder and making my brain run for the hills.

"Let me remove my damn underwear, asshole; you're gonna ruin them."

"Good. Then you'll remember how this old man made a mess of the Lilith Greyfox."

Then he scoops my other leg and presses them both to my chest and starts thrusting into me, hitting that spot over and over. I disappear into the stratosphere, squealing and crying for more, tear streaking my makeup as I forget how to breathe or speak, or function for that matter.

And before long, I came shaking, no fanfare, no squirting, just a quiet orgasm.

Pedro releases my thighs and hooks my hips, his hands gripping my ass and his face burying in my neck.

"Aw... spent already? Poor baby can't even keep up with a 'little old man' like me? Gotta hurt that big beautiful pride of yours... don't worry, here, let me bruise it again."

"I--plea--I can't do it again..."

"You can... watch."

His hips start to piston again and I disintegrate.

"This... this isn't fair. You know more tricks than me."

"Poor, poor Lilith. Must suck knowing I know your body better than you. But I bet it's nice to stop thinking for a while, huh?"

"You don't know my body, idiot, you're just getting lucky--Ah!"

"You were saying?"

He continues to make my back arch and I hook my hands around him, my nails raking down his back.

"Mn. Fuck, Lilith." He slams in harder, making my eyes roll and my nails dig harder. "D-Don't leave fucking marks, you damn brat."

"I happen to remember two new marks myself."

"You vindictive little shit... Fine." He starts sucking on my skin everywhere. "Enjoy your photoshoots."

"No!"

He chuckles into my skin before I eventually cum, spraying him for a second before he rudely yanks himself out just to watch.

"Well, would you look at that, I made you break twice and you can't even claw one out of me."

"Don't act like not being able to is the same as surviving me all this time dinosaur."

"Careful now... I'll make that three and leave you broken."

"No balls." I gasp, breathless and dizzy from my high.

"Brat." He hesitates for a second longer before pulling out of me and turning to sit at the edge of the bed, his back turned to me. "Go to hell and sleep."

I squint at him and slide off the bed, walking towards the door.

"Your dress... you won't make it far without it."

I nudge the door closed, then come walking back to him, walking until my thighs are brushing his knees, before I spread his thighs and sink between his thighs.

"There's nothing I hate more than a man who tries to cut fun short because his insecurities scream too loud." My hand pumps him, and I watch him jolt as I kiss his tip and smirk. "I'm sick of the cowardice... Let me suffocate it for you."

I slip him into my mouth and feel him shudder, then buck before his hand came to rest on my head, petting my hair as I worked.

"Lilith... shit, okay Lilith, you c-can stop now. I know your jaw hurts."

He was right, but I was not about to admit that to him. But soon, his pets turned to full grips on my hair, guiding me lower and his hips bucking.

"You wanna finish me off that fucking bad, huh? Fine. Don't you fucking dare stop. Swallow every damn drop."

A few bobs later, and I'm swallowing around him and pulling away slightly, coughing.

"You did fucking amazing..."

"Glad you think so because you owe me a new damn set for the one you ruined." I pull off the soaked fabric, letting it plop to the floor.

A small laugh puffs through his nose as he rolls his eyes.