Beneath The Skin (A College Obsession Romance) (11 page)

I circle around the display to his left ankle. Even from behind, he’s a work of art—a sculpture of muscle, of man, of beauty.
Click!
His right ankle is next—
click!
—and then I’m back in front of him, securing the final cuff to his right wrist. Each cuff is tight and unforgiving, lending him no ability to move his limbs whatsoever; he’s secured in place and not going anywhere.

“This sucks a bit for my knees,” he tells me casually, “but I’ll live. Maybe now that you’ve made me your …
object
… you might consider showing me a little … somethin’-somethin’ of you?”

I crouch down in front of him, nearly nose to nose. “Oh, yeah?” I smile, squeezing my breasts together invitingly. His eyes go straight to them. So predictable. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“Yep.”

“Throw the dog a bone, huh?”

He sticks out his tongue and pants like a puppy.

“You know, Brant …” I shake my head ruefully. “I still think women are objectified far more than men. But maybe this little display of yours might … sway my mind.” I pat his smooth, flushed cheek.

This close to his face, I find myself in a predicament of my own, warring between a desire to just ditch him here and stalk home, or to kiss those full, sexy lips of his … lips that I know will send a fire rushing through me that no cold shower could dream of putting out. Wetness gathers between my thighs as they squeeze together, nearly squirming as I crouch before him with my face so close to his. A hundred ideas of what else I can do to him tumble through my conflicted mind.

What’s the harm in giving in, anyway? Wouldn’t I get something out of it too, even if it’s just for one night? How long has it been since a man touched me and sent electricity down every nerve in my body?

Why, when something nice actually enters my life, do I feel the need to sabotage any possible chance of something good coming from it?

“You look gorgeous,” he murmurs.

My face softens at his words.

“And,” he goes on, “I bet you’d look prettier with my dick between your legs.”

He, however, is
not
that “something nice” who’s entered my life. He embodies everything I can’t stand about men. Unspeakably arrogant. Thinks he’s the tissue for my every tear. Thinks he’s the supply to my every lack. Sure, Brant’s talented, and his talent is spoiling every mood and taking what little hope I had and wiping up the floor with it.

I rip the gag off my sculpture, then bring it around his head.

“Whoa,” he blurts as I wrap the thing behind his head. “You’re so damn kinky and twisted. Fuck, I’m so
haaa—
”

He doesn’t quite finish the word “
hard
” as the ball-gag slips past his lips, trapping the rest of his words within him and converting any sound he makes into vowels and moans.

“I’m not kinky,” I assure him with a gentle pat to his cheek, “and I’m definitely not twisted.”

He says something through the gag as drool gathers at the corners of his mouth, turning the ball slick. I love what I’ve reduced him to.

“I’m Nell.”

He blinks a few times, confused. It doesn’t take long for realization to dawn on his adorable, trapped little face.

“I’m
the
artist, camera boy.” I lean into his ear, giving the lobe one more tiny nibble before I add: “
And you’re my new exhibit.
”

When I pull away, I might say that I see a flicker of excitement in his eyes at those words of mine. Is all of this turning him on, the predicament I’ve put him in?

“Enjoy your grand opening.”

As I leave, I hear a moan or two that might or might not be him calling out my name, which he just learned. I hear another groan that might or might not be a show of his unbridled horniness on display for the whole school to see—or perhaps just his ultimate humiliation.

Either way, I’m sure the lesson’s the same.

BRANT

Well, this is a particularly unique shade of “totally fucked”.

And why the hell am I hard as a rock?

Like, seriously. I am so fucking hard right now that my cock—which is totally on display right now in these skintight, revealing briefs that Eric swore I should wear on my date tonight—feels like a goddamn swollen eggplant.

My heart hammers tirelessly in my chest, pumping more and more blood below my waist. It’s as if even my body is like:
Hey, Brant! We’re excited! Exciting shit is happening! Let’s make you even harder!

That Nell chick is totally messing with me, right? She’s going to come right back and release me any second now.

I breathe in deeply, then breathe out. Already, this damn oversized ball-gag is making my jaw sore. I bet this is what Eric and Dmitri feel like every time they give head.

The thought makes me laugh.

My dry chuckles echo like whispers throughout the empty gallery, then reverberate back at me tauntingly.

I turn my head. “
Nmml?
” I push through the gag. “
Nmmmmml?
”

Nell. Not the name I was expecting from her. Who the hell names their kid Nell?

Fuck, she looked so hot tonight.

The sun is still up. So really, I’m not as visible as I think I am from the street. There’s reflections and shit on the glass outside. I’m pretty much protected until Nell decides the joke’s over with and she comes to free me. Maybe the whole gallery showing was just a lie? Maybe she’s just trying to scare me?

I give my left wrist a tug, only to find it completely and utterly secured in place. With a quick jerk of my right side, I make the same discovery. I’m not going anywhere.

The only thing that would make this even hotter would be if Nell would come back with a whip or some kinky shit. Not that I want to be
actually
whipped; the threat of one is sexy enough for me.

But a spanking …

Fuck, I’m getting even harder
. Every time I think I’m at full mast, my cock betrays me and throbs even more. For a second, I’m seriously concerned that my cock might explode.

Mental note: Eric deserves severe payback for his evil suggestion to wear “sexy” underwear that’s a size too small.

I hear a click. When I look up, I see a pair of people walking along the sidewalk outside. Just as quickly, a pair of voices enter the gallery. Then I see more people approaching from the other side of the street, looking both ways before they cross the road. The front door—which I can’t see at my angle—opens to let in another crowd of some utterly indeterminate number.

An intercom clicks, and then music begins to play: some new age, hippie, synthetic beats crap.

Holy fucking shit. There is an actual gallery showing tonight.

I twist my neck around to try and see the front, then realize I can’t. Footsteps and voices join the music, echoing all around me tauntingly.

Every inch of my skin is cold and sensitive at once, my predicament growing more and more pressing by the second.

And I can’t will my boner away.

I’m still hard.

Nell did this to me to make a point, sure. I get it. Alright.

Suddenly, I chuckle through my ball-gag, thinking about her. She wants to teach me a lesson? This is the way she’s going to play my game? Two can play.

I feel the presence of someone behind me. Then a voice lightly gasps in shock. “
It’s a person
,” I hear them whisper. “
Oh my god,
” another voice returns.

When the two come into view to get a look at my face—two girls holding programs or pamphlets or something—I look up at them. And to their curious, awestruck faces, I grin proudly through my ball-gag, then give them a jerk upward of my chin. “
‘Sup?
” I push out, despite it sounding like some random grunt.

“Beautiful,” murmurs one of them.

“Poignant,” agrees the other, nodding.

The pair of them are joined by three more—a blond guy in slacks and two women in dresses. I give them the same grunting nod and greeting. Then, for good measure, I wiggle my ass and grin even tighter, inspiring a chuckle from the guy. The two women blush and whisper something between themselves.

When I look ahead through the window, my eyes catch sight of her. Nell. She’s watching from the street.

I save my biggest, widest grin for her. I even wink.

For a moment, I think I catch a hint of her smiling back—a faint, nearly undetectable smile—before she turns and strolls away.

Score one for Brant Rudawski.

I don’t see her after my impromptu gallery debut.

It was the art gallery owner who was instructed how to free me from the cuffs at the end of the exhibit. Apparently just a tiny stupid out-of-reach latch on each cuff was all it took to keep me in place.

“Are you a model?” asked the woman after she undid my binds and I climbed off the display. “My name is Lori Turlington, owner of this gallery. I can hook you up. I have big contacts in the business.” But to her kind words, I only pulled off the ball-gag, said, “Thanks, ma’am, but no thanks,” then offered her a wink and went on my way.

After slipping my clothes back on—which had been neatly folded and kept in a back room somewhere—I pulled out my phone and called my roommate. Yeah, sure, I’m a wuss, whatever, but I’m sure as fuck not going to walk through
this
neighborhood alone at night.

Ten minutes later, Dmitri is giving me a tight smile as I slip into the passenger’s side. “You had a showcase and didn’t tell me?”

I glance back at the gallery with half a grin on my face and a soreness in my jaw that I’m still massaging out. “Not exactly.”

“Did you meet up with that new girl you were telling me about?”

“Yep.”

Dmitri chuckles dryly as he kicks the car into gear, pulling out onto the road. “Didn’t work out, huh? Did she turn out to be a friend of one of the six hundred exes you pissed off?”

“Nah. She just gave me … a little lesson in art,” I answer, grinning.

Dmitri nods dubiously, his gaze lingering on my face until the red light we’re at turns green. Then he pushes a foot to the gas and groans, “I really don’t feel like going back to our place.”

“Why? Oh.” I can already tell from the sight of his smirk. “Eric’s got some dude over?”

“Same dude. And they’re binge-watching
Ab Fab
. Hand-in-hand.”

“Why don’t you just admit there’s something between you guys?” I ask him, partly annoyed. “You act like a jealous bitch, dude.”

“No, I don’t. My eye is more occupied with someone else, actually. Eric having or not having guys at our place is irrelevant to my love life. It’s merely irksome.”

“Hah … ‘Merely irksome’ … You and your words. So who’s this new dude you’ve got your eye on?”