06. defiant.

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|◁ II ▷|

6lack nonchalant.

JEÁN-PAUL BISSET, distinguished celebrity photographer stood steaming red in the upscaled, rented Kensington loft. His subject for the inaugural shoot with Armani for their honorary list of UK's Hottest Athletes was late for the fifth year, in a row.

He erratically paced up and down the minimalistic loft with his eyes watching the tickers on the clock move slowly. Those that knew him well knew that he lacked any semblance of patience. The list of those who had suffered at the hands of his foul temper was endless and Annie Graham was now the newest member on the long list.

"Anna!" Bisset gestured Graham to come.

Graham knew better than to correct Bisset but felt slighted that he should at least bother to know the names of those working on his set especially when she had been an intern for him for more than a year.

"Any sign of Ebén yet?"

She timidly shook her head, "Not yet, no"

The wait had proved to be too taxing on his middle-aged body and he didn't have the energy to continue being patient. His eyes flocked to the wall clock it was now 10:15AM and still no sign of his subject.

"No?!" he hotly repeated, causing the young intern to cower under the glare of his temper. She was looking for something anyone, to save her; but found out at that moment that others would rather pretend not to see, rather than help her.

The fear even made it even difficult for her to gulp and answer him, without her words violently vibrating against her larynx, "His agent said to me that he would be here... soon"

"How soon is soon, Abbie?" Bisset prowled at her timid and impressionable eyes that was blind to what she had signed up for. He did not want a vague answer; but wanted an accurate ETA as he liked to deal with facts not hypotheticals.

She answered him, with unsureness laced on her tongue, "He said... ten minutes?"

"I hope for your sake, it is ten minutes, Abbie... and not longer otherwise I'll have to "

Ebén's lax entry before Bisset had even finished drumming his threat to Annie had saved her, her job and her dignity. He strode in like he could sense that eyes were pining after him; not caring that he had affecting the schedules of other people.

Annie, whose job description did not involve attending on Ebén's hand and foot, whisked him straight into his set-chair and gleamed her clover green eyes at him with the coyest of smiles.

She was plumped in all the wrong places as her rolls of skin sagged against her hips and Ebén couldn't understand where her boldness came from. Her eyes veered south; and Ebén knew why she had paused and looked at it intently; like she wanted to be apart of the long list of women whose cores had been filled with his essence.

Ebén knew that he loved sex but he didn't love it that much to forgo his number one rule.

Never bruck fat women.

Ebén did not feel like he was being discriminatory to those with fleshier bodies but opted for what he liked, even if it was bound to cause offence.

Her stubby fingers had gripped the metal tweezers and started plucking at his bristle-chest. Her bushy eyebrows rose up as she focused on pulling hairs but he didn't like that she was so close but understood that she had a job to do.

The slight graze of his ribs caused her pupils to shift at a faded scar that was obscured partially by a tattoo of his Abuelita.

"That looks pretty painful, Mr. Cástro. Is it sore?"

He had forever been haunted with the memory of how that scar came to beand wasn't something that he was willing to share with the intern.

"I'd rather that you do your job in silence so I can get out of here" Ebén said brusquely, as he resumed his attention back on to scrolling through Instagram feeds that was bound to make any woman self-conscious. Her accuracy seemed to falter when Bisset prowled purposefully into the dressing room raking his abraded knuckles over his chest and vetting his upper body with an ireful squint.

His aquiline dented nose couldn't mask his anger as he rolled it skyward and down onto to Annie, "What is... your name again?" he barked, as his conical shaped finger was pressed in the dent in his cheek.

"Annie " her lips were already snivelling, afraid that she was about to be on the receiving end of his well documented temper.

"I don't remember asking... or even telling you to prep Mr. Cástro? Did I, Miss Graham?" he vociferated loudly, mimicking the shaky tremble in her voice.

Only quiet croaks left her mouth not wanting to speak in case she riled him up further.

But, she had been saved from his wrath that was at the tip of his tongue as Eve rushed right in.

"Jeán-Paul, je suis désolé. The agency double booked me on another shoot. I was the one that told Annie here to prep Mr. Cástro in my absence" Eve explained, strapping her pouch to her waist.

Annie mouthed a dispirited thank you, grateful that she had escaped without any lasting emotional scars.

"Eve, répare-le. We need him on set in five. We're already behind schedule" Jeán-Paul ordered, as he whistled Annie out and stormed back to set.

Eve's brown orbs studied Ebén's stubble studiously casing his chin and plucking any overgrown whiskers that her prowl had spotted.

"Straighten your head, Eb" Eve directed, as she used a make up brush to lightly dab the bump of his cheek to give him an artificial bronzed glow.

"Where did you run off to last Friday?"

"I was... with someone" Eve muttered guiltily she had been friends with Ebén for a good while, and noticed his way with women had somewhat rubbed off on her. She wasn't the type of abandon them once she got her fix; but she did take them home and explore their bodies in ways that weren't innocent.

"Who?" said Ebén, intrigued, that his emotionally unavailable industry-friend was now finally taking his pointers. "Someone you don't know. She wasn't a fan of yours though " Eve smiled flippantly as she blew out the hairs that were adorned on his skin.

"Maybe 'cus I've already fucked her"

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Ebén had always hated shoots especially this inaugural one, but knew the eight-cover spread in the September edition would make his pockets fatter. The gatecrash of his agent, Rafael Salgado, had vexed Bisset but knew he had an obligation to keep his subject happy so he mentally withdraw his insult.

Salgado strode in, like a man on a mission, "There is my favourite client! I need you to maintain these levels. I'm on the cusp on negotiating you a new deal that's going to make us both a ton of money"

"Oh yeah?" said Ebén, trying to sound interested, "What type of figures are we lookin' at?"

His expression was impish which only insinuated that he had negotiated a hefty package. Ebén had rudely whistled at Annie for a towel which she brought promptly but the athlete had snatched it ungratefully as he walked towards the lot with his agent.

Salgado sucked in his face, trying to control his bubbling elation, "220s. I can probably push 275, maybe 295 even. You busy tonight?"

"I just got gym" shrugged Ebén, trying to jam open his dressing room door.

A wide grin leapt across his face, "Meet me at the Savoy tonight. There's someone I want you to meet"

"I told you, I'm busy."

He continued, ignoring him, "Florentino Perez is flying into London to discuss a few details. I've reserved a table and bring Ezra. You're a lot more tolerable when you're with her "

"I got stuff to do "

He blew at him, this time with finality, "Don't mess this up jefe. You 'betta show up"

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EBÉN NEEDED a distraction a permanent one, from the business talk that came out of the mouths of his dinner guests. He never did like the concept of mingling pleasure with business but was under the strict command of his agent to show up.

All he had to do was show up and look handsome; it was all the athlete was presumably good for.

Ezra tried, unsuccessfully, to wash out his boredom with her hands but realised that she was jousting him with the same tricks and he needed something new.

During his eye search for that something new; he noticed stern hazel green orbs. He centred his insatiable gaze on her deciding to himself at that point, that he was going to maul her with the thing in between her legs that was ticking.

But, if she was opposed to the mauling; he'd no doubt respect her wishes. He was not a gentleman but he was not a monster either.

Her little, black number lined her curves; braless. Ebén wondered dirtily whether she had every intention to have sex tonight. He never knew women to rock a dress as revealing as the one she was wearing without bra just for the sake of it.

She sat back, bashful and disinterested in her date.

Maya had taken occasional glances down at his waist where Ezra's hands were busy. He couldn't help but notice how she would take sharp sips each time she looked away with her cheeks sucked in tight.

Ebén battled hard with lustful temptation wanting to throw her ass, wide and plump, across a grand piano dressed in nothing but suspenders as odd keys played with his hands squeezing and his member pounding at her and her desperate moans screaming nothing but variants of his own name.

Shit, I'm so clumsy.

Her buxom lips neared his and her tongue was the breeding ground for her venom.

Any man would be lucky to make her their wife, Ebén supposed but the truth of the matter was that he wasn't looking to stay he just wanted to fuck her.

She shiftily watched the door swing open as her pelvis was rested against the sink rim adding more gloss to her plump lips. Was it me that she was getting ready to kiss? Ebén started to lose himself thinking of all the stuff he wanted to do to her body.

He whispered to himself gutturally, running his fingers along his belt buckle, already erect. He couldn't escape the constant, flooding thoughts of her lips knowing that they needed a better home than on her date's, or that straw.

He wanted her blowjob lips to suck and slurp on his piece and swallow his physical desire.

He needed them.

He had to have them.

Her thick bum and the dip in her arch as she bent over the sink didn't hide the lining of her thong. Her shape was even more visible. He found himself drooling at the thought of ripping off those same panties with his teeth and tearing through her pussy with her fingers hearing her soft, panty moans begging to be freed from his bond.

She let out a condensing laugh, "Fine. Watch me?"

Maya probably thought that she had the power to lay down the law as she presed her palms against Ebén's open-buttoned shirt, making contact with his skin.

That was the point in which she set him off.

He locked her legs with his knee, pinning the fabric of her dress to the sink, rendering her immobile. Her eyes jutted out with fury as her tits were beefed, her nipples almost peeking out from her dress.

She rolled her eyes whilst the rest of her body was stiff and upright. The whites in her fingers shot through from how tight she was clutching on to the sink rim.

Thud went the toilet door. Her head turned immediately to the source of the sound, giving him first glance of her glossy, speckled face right up close.

"What's your name?" Ebén breathed over her wistfully he had grown tired of this game of cat and mouse, and now wanted to know who exactly she was.

She spoke with clenched teeth, "It's none of your business"

"Don't you want to get to know me?"

She didn't.

"I don't" she quipped, not sparing him "Is it 'cus you're famous that I'm supposed to want to get to know you?"

He clucked proudly, "Well yeah. That's how this works"

Her sly little smirk broke through every region of her face and almost broke his chest, "Women actually fall for your bullshit?"

"I can be very persuasive"

"I wouldn't call locking girls in bathroom toilets and demanding they tell you their name, as persuasive"

She mocked him, her hazel green eyes absorbing his. Somehow, she had found her lips near his, only separated by a couple millimetres.

Without thinking, his fingers harshly grabbed the nape of her neck, her curls swaddled with his fingers. She let out the deepest croak as a soft ripple skated over both their lips, both of them veering off course. Her plump lips licked his, as her wet tongue began creating spit webs in his mouth. Her lips skipped down to lick the skin of his neck, as she took the lead.

He groaned mid-kiss, "Tell me your name"

It was instinct as she broke away from his lips, her gloss smeared on his entire top lip. Her heart was rapping against her chest with it rising and falling.

"I-I'm Maya" she finally said with a croak that sounded like she had suppressed it for a long time, before running her fingers frantically through her curls and fleeing from the scene.

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A/N: Ebén's a man on a mission, taking no mf prisoners.

But let's just talk about that kiss! With tongue!


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