Page 52 of Illicit Illustration

As I braced myself to step out into the dark parking lot that separated my shop from the bar, I cast one last longing look toward her door, hoping the light of day wouldn’t ruin things between us.

Hazel

Stretching, I groaned, reachingfor the pillow I normally slept curled against, but my hands came up empty. And it was quiet—too quiet—as the sound machine next to my bed was silent and not playing the white noise I used to drown out my thoughts at night so I could actually sleep.

Normally, when I woke up and my sleep ritual hadn’t been followed, it was because I fell asleep on the couch, but I was tucked under the covers that’d been half dumped on the floor yesterday wearing the casual clothes I’d put on after my shift last night.

Blinking again, I tried to remember how I’d gotten in the bed. The last thing I remembered was clinging to Reid on the floor in my hallway after we—Oh fuck.

I sort of, kind of, pretty much gave Reid a blow job last night in my hallway and didn’t even get to see the package hidden beneath his boxer briefs.

As the reel of what went down—spoiler alert: it was me, I was what went down—in my hallway ran through my now wide-awake brain, my face flamed as I recalled how powerful I’d felt with Reid looming over me. The way he’d looked at me through half-lidded eyes, his forearms flexed as I explored. The rough exclamations that’d escaped his lips and the way his eyelashes fluttered as I tugged on what had felt like a ring piercing through the head of his dick.

Maybe I’d been doing my research into dick illustration all wrong. Because of all the kinds of cocks I’d drawn over the last few months, I had yet to detail any with a piercing. And if there wasanything I’d learned during the last week, and this create your own commission reference photos project, it was that seeing things firsthand and knowing exactly how the body parts were positioned made it infinitely easier to complete my drawings.

But there was no way that Reid would agree to let me sketch his dick. We’d done a lot of things that skirted a very fine boundary line this week, but seeing him completely naked—whether in a photo or in person—erased that line completely. And while I was wildly attracted to my brother’s dangerously tempting best friend, I wasn’t sure if I was prepared to handle him. Or his pierced peen.

That I was now going to obsess about, because honestly, even through a layer of very thin material, the rumors about Reid were not fabricated. At all. And I honestly didn’t give a fuck about his slutty ways because he felt like a different person lately, specifically the last week. Not that he was truly interested in taking things further with me. And I wasn’t sure if I was ready to risk my heart on the chance that he was.

No matter how much he invaded all my waking moments.

Seven: You didn’t say goodnight.

And that was another reason I couldn’t get too invested in Reid. I was already invested in something—someone—else.

Fourteen: Was working last night and lost track of time. Then I fell asleep without my phone.

Guilt crept through me with each word that I typed out, but it wasn’t exactly like I could tell him I’d been too busy fake blowing, and then sort of really blowing, my brother’s best friend. Which brought out what I needed to do. I needed to erect some boundaries between Reid and myself, even though his erection seemed to want to cross every one of my boundaries last night.

My face flushed at the thought of the feral look in his eyes when he ripped open my leggings last night. I know I’d told him to do it, but it was epically hot.

Seven: What are you up to today?

Having a breakdown at the thought of talking to my brother’s best friend, knowing what happened last night crossed too many boundaries.

My mother had been right when I was in high school, nothing good happens after midnight and the only things openwerelegs and the emergency room. Although as I recalled the way Reid had been looking at me, his hand doing maddening things through the now ruined material of my panties, I knew something very,verygood had happened late last night.

I just wasn’t sure what to do about it.

Fourteen: Sketching, still have 4-5 projects on my waiting list and I want to get them off my plate before Valentine’s Day.

Seven: Ambitious when you only have a few days left.

Fourteen: I’ll just trick myself into thinking something bad will happen if I don’t finish them. I work best under tight deadlines.

It wouldn’t be the first time I’d tried to hack my ridiculous brain when I wanted to switch hyper focus onto something. I was a pro at lying to myself.

Seven: Got a hot date coming up or something?

Fourteen: Or something. How about you?

Seven: I hope I have a hot date for Valentine’s Day. I might have to cry into my beer if she stands me up.

He might have been joking, but Ihadconsidered calling the whole thing off. Between my budding feelings for Seven, along with my explosive and startling chemistry with Reid, I was having the sudden urge to escape from reality and hide under my covers until they both lost interest.

It’s not like that wouldn’t be the result eventually, anyway. Reid would lose interest as soon as feelings were involved, because healways did. I’d seen it enough times to know exactly how things would go with him.

And with Seven, I knew I’d never keep his interest when things weren’t hidden under the veil of anonymity. He was obnoxiously charming through the barrier and, expecting him to be any less so in person, would be delusional. And once he realized I was more of a homebody than someone more exciting, he’d lose interest and walk away.

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