Voyeur

By Iris Blaire

My good girl facade is about as stable as a house of cards.

Picture this: coming home from school to spend the summer with my parents, playing the part of naive, modest software heiress. Me: Britain McCulley, naive and modest. All it takes is one curious google search from Daddy for him to find out that I own a smut company.

I’m already on edge, and that’s before my brother’s traitor of an ex-best friend shows up. Jaime-Freaking-Rivera. Fired from my father’s company for embezzling, returning to make amends with the family.

He also happens to be one of my models. And we’ve just happened to have had mind-blowing sex.

But my past with Jaime might be the easiest thing I need to hide this summer, because when sex sells, work never stops...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Iris Blaire
• Release date: Jun 6, 2020
• ISBN: 9780463118764

Iris Blaire

Iris Blaire is a firm believer in escapism and good coffee. She has lived in various cities along the west coast (best coast!) for almost all her life, and is currently situated in Portland. As a writer of many things, she returns to the universe of East Park when she feels like the world needs more inappropriate jokes, sweet love interests, and steamy scenes.

Book preview

1

Britain

There are many things that aren’t as sexy as they claim to be. G-strings, for example. G-strings are the most god-awful, hideous contraptions man has ever created. Pay-per-view porn. Tequila. Bubble gum lip gloss.

And pool sex.

Of course, I’m four shots of tequila in and wearing bubble gum lip gloss when I decide pool sex would be a fabulous idea, so tonight is definitely a three-strikes kind of night. Not that Nate didn’t enjoy himself, because boy, did he have an insta-boner the second I undid my bikini top. Five minutes of lubeless, uncomfortable intercourse later, Nate came... right in my parents’ pool.

They’ll never find out. Mom and Dad like to think they know everything, but they’re clueless most of the time, which is why I’ve gotten away with my erotic photography career for so long.

As we towel off, Nate says with a goofy grin, That was awesome.

Awesome. Yes, he uses the word Awesome, like I-am-in-seventh-grade-and-just-saw-boobs-for-the-first-time-on-HBO Awesome.

My fake smile probably looks like a grimace. It was fun.

He raises an eyebrow and swaggers toward me. Tack Nate’s swagger onto the list of things that aren’t as sexy as they claim to be. He reaches up and brushes his knuckles against my jaw, and says coyly, If you’re staying all summer, we should definitely make this our regular Friday night. He winks at me and it takes every ounce of willpower I have not to roll my eyes.

I doubt my parents will be gone that often. Mom and Dad are at an out-of-town benefit dinner tonight. They attend fancy events on weekends more often than not, but Nate doesn’t need to know that. We went to high school together, and he’s definitely cuter now than he was back then—brunette, on the skinny side, crooked smile—you know, the kind of guy I usually go for. We both just graduated with our undergrad and are home for the summer. I ran into him in the grocery store and he asked me out, you know, to catch up.

Three tacos, four shots of tequila, and a cab ride later, here we are. A missing bikini top, sloppy kisses, and penetration.

I over-exaggerate my yawn. I’m exhausted.

He glances up to my room longingly, like he’s expecting me to ask him to stay the night.

My parents are going to be home early tomorrow morning, I add. Yeah, right. They’ll probably mosey in at around two in the afternoon. Another thing Nate doesn’t need to know.

Right, right. Well, I guess this is goodnight. He leans in to kiss me and I turn at the last minute, his lips landing on my cheek.

God, I’m such a bitch.

See you.

Call me. He flashes his pearly whites before tossing me his towel and scooping his clothes off the patio furniture. Good thing he parked his car here before we left for dinner and I don’t have to wait for him to call a cab. When I hear his engine start, I release a breath of relief.

There you are, I mumble to myself, tugging the towel tighter around me and swiping my floating bikini top from the edge of the pool. I trudge into the house, making my way up the narrow staircase and to the wing where mine and Cameron’s old bedrooms are. I slip into my dark room, shut the door, and lean against it.

One good thing about being stuck with my parents for two months—my room is a palace compared to the places I lived during my undergrad. My parents believed Cameron and I had to earn the things we wanted—privileges, Dad called them—but let’s face it, we were both spoiled rotten. Still are. When I turned eighteen, I was given access to my inheritance. If I lived modestly, I’d never have to work a day in my life with the help of my assets. But I haven’t touched a penny out of pride.

I’m not going to be that rich-bitch daughter of a software CEO who complains about everything, and the moment I use my inheritance is the moment I owe my parents. I can’t afford to owe them anything. I can’t be the modest, polite, wifely good girl they want me to be.

I mean, I make porn for a living.

I drop my towel at the door and make my way to my dresser, and then head to my private bathroom, tugging on sweatpants and my Bitches Get Shit Done t-shirt. After I brush my teeth and comb out my wet, tangled hair, I head back into my bedroom, where a dark shadow waits outside my window.

I scream and reach for the nearest object, which happens to be a spoon from the cereal I ate in bed this morning. I hold the spoon up threateningly. Behind the glass, the shadow starts to chuckle.

I know that chuckle.

Dropping the spoon, I say, No fucking way, loud enough for the shadow to hear. I walk to the window, unlatch the lock, and slide it open. This window’s been missing a screen since I was fifteen, when my first boyfriend pointed out how easy it would be to climb the tree to the roof. I’ve never actually had a boy crawl through this window and sex me up, but I’ve always been prepared for this moment: my secret teenage fantasy of Jaime-fucking-Rivera waiting outside my bedroom.

In my fantasies, I’m much more thrilled to see him.

In order to rid him of that stupid grin, I punch him in the shoulder.

He jerks back. Whoa, hey now, he says in a gravelly, oh-so-cocky voice.

What the fuck do you think you’re doing? I cry.

With the help of the pool and patio lights below, I can make out his raised eyebrows. Exactly what I told you I was going to do.

My mind reverts to the emails we exchanged over a month ago, after our fling—if that’s what you want to call it. When I signed the contract with Amora Acquisitions, A.J. Harrison scheduled an audition. Jaime’s modeling happened to be taking off at the same time, and he convinced his agent that auditioning for my magazine was good for his career. Jaime was the obnoxious best friend of my older brother, and I thought auditioning was just his way of tormenting me more. That was before Boston, where he admitted he auditioned to spend time with me. Being the stupid shit I am, I actually started to fall for him.

Then Cameron called me and told me he hadn’t spoken to Jaime in years, not since Jaime worked as an accounting intern for Dad and got fired for embezzling money. We exchanged emails and he promised me the situation wasn’t what I thought, and when I said I’d be here all summer, he told me to keep my bedroom window open.

I thought it was some last-minute flirting. Not that he was actually going to show up at my window at two o’clock in the morning, minutes after I fucked another guy in the pool.

I didn’t think you were serious! I snarl, turning away from the window. And you told me you were going to show up weeks ago. When I spin back to him with my arms crossed, he slings his legs inside my room and stares at me. He looks amused—too amused—like he’s about to bust up laughing.

What? I growl.

That was some show you put on out there.

My mouth drops open. "You saw that? You watched it?"

He scoffs. Not voluntarily, trust me, if I knew you’d be awkwardly screwing a guy in a pool I would have come tomorrow. He looks up in thought. Or maybe yesterday. Then I could have seduced you and saved you from the pain of whatever the fuck I just witnessed.

"Oh thanks, you’re so sweet."

He just stuck it in you and grunted a few times and it was over. He tsks. That couldn’t have been fun at all.

For being an ex-lover, Jaime doesn’t look very upset that he just witnessed me fucking someone else. In fact, he looks smug.

What’s so goddamn funny? I say, my arms still crossed over my chest.

He has the audacity to laugh. Can I come in?

No.

Fine. Can I sit here?

You can sit right there, I say, even though it’s probably not my best decision. I should tell him to get the hell out, but him being here is unearthing all kinds of emotions I had buried deep. He looks exactly the same as the last time I saw him, taut muscle roping his arms, his strong features permanently sketched with deviance. I glare at his mouth, which is also a bad decision, because all I can think of is the last time I dragged my teeth across his lower lip.

So, who was that? He curls his fingers toward his palm and studies his nails, like this is the most boring conversation he’s ever had.

A guy.

This guy your boyfriend?

Hell no, I say too quickly.

He shoots me a smile, I want to slap it right off his face. "Good, because a boy like him is a boy you don’t want to be with for too long, considering his caveman forgetfulness of not getting you off before coming himself."

What do you want, Jaime?

Suddenly stone-faced, he responds, To offer you my services, of course. And considering your parents and Cameron are both out of town, you can scream as loud as you want.

My mind returns to Boston and Veda Manor, where Jaime led me blindfolded to his room to prove I could trust him. I clench my thighs at the thought of what he did to me that night, hoping he doesn’t see any sign of my sexual frustration in the dark. I lead my thoughts in a different direction. How did you know they were out of town?

Let me in and I’ll tell you.

He won’t play me so easily. If I refuse?

He shrugs. I’ll leave the way I came. He looks over his shoulder. Can’t say I haven’t climbed onto your roof before.

"Have you spied on me?"

"Please, Brit, not everything is always about you. Now, have I jumped from your roof into the pool during one of Cameron’s ragers only to get laid for my bravery a few minutes later? That has happened."

I should send him away to spite him, to prove I don’t care about him or how he knows my family is out of town. And I would, if he were just another hot guy. I mean, I’m around hot, naked guys all the time. They’re a dime a dozen in my life.

Call it a blessing, or maybe a curse.

Jaime on the other hand... as much as I hate to admit it, it isn’t so easy to tell Jaime Rivera to go away.

I sigh. Fine.

He slides into my room, leaving the window open. Looking around, he says, Exactly how I remember.

I sit on my king canopy bed. Please. You weren’t in here that often.

I was in here enough to steal tampons and a pair of your underwear, in case you’ve forgotten.

Tampons and underwear, things I made him apologize for. That apologizing led to making out half-naked, as well as other things. Other amazing things.

I clear my throat. So, how did you know my parents and Cam were out of town?

I had a meeting with your dad yesterday.

It’s the second time in five minutes that my mouth falls open. "You what?"

I told him I wanted to prove it wasn’t me who embezzled money. I asked him to look back into it.

Because you want your job back.

There’s that, since more positions are opening up.

My father’s software company is possibly expanding. A merger with another