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She was beautiful. That couldn’t be denied. Her body was a masterpiece. But it was all on display for everyone to see. And I understood that she was a model. I got that she would be naked at times for the purpose of art and fashion.

But does it have to be today, while I’m here?

My cock grew stiffer in my pants. There was nothing on my mind but getting Zola alone and more naked. Gone was my focus on the stalker. As soon as I spotted Zola in that outfit, I couldn’t look away.

What the hell had I been thinking letting her go?

My phone buzzed.

I checked it.

York: You never called me back. Is everything going okay?

I put the phone up, not ready to respond to that answer.

I was trying to be politically correct. Zola was a woman—a damn sexy and independent one. If she had a job to do, I was supposed to let her, regardless if everyone could see every inch of her curvy flesh. No matter that this creep danced around her and looked like he was close to sneaking a few touches in the name of making a good video.

Watch it, Trigger. I’ll fucking break your other fingers.

Zola didn’t understand what she’d started. She’d now made my desire into a contest. She’d issued a challenge with her words in the dressing room and the way she twisted out of there.

“Do you know how long I’ve thought of tasting your pussy?”

“No, but if you want it so bad, come and take it.”

No real man could back away from that kind of a dare. And I planned on teaching her a lesson. The urge to dominate her flowed through me, making my head even crazier. I fisted my hands at my sides, desperate to calm myself down.

Kissing Zola had been everything I’d imagined, and even more things that I hadn’t. I had expected her sweet taste but was unprepared for the scorching heat. I knew if I tasted her mouth for too long, more hunger would arise and damn near burn out my insides. But what happened was an explosion of need in my cock. I’d expected a little fight to get the pussy, but she’d responded with an adamant invitation.

I’m going to show you.

She had to understand that I wasn’t anyone she could tease.

Those feelings her touch summoned still strummed deep in me even as I stood there watching. They should have left me the moment I moved from her lips, but still, the emotional sensations came. And my desire for her felt stronger.

It had somehow grown even more.

It ate at me.

And her words went straight to my cock, which was why it was still hard and in pain.

I groaned as she rocked back and forth on the stage. That tiny diamond pattern between her thighs didn’t leave much else to the imagination.

I ran my fingers through my hair and focused on my breaths. In and out. I had to get control of my desire and anger. In one second, I wanted to run up there and fuck her in front of everybody to show she belonged to me. In the next, I considered grabbing a blanket, covering her up, and taking her away.

Trigger pulled Zola into a hug and began rubbing himself on her as he rapped. I could tell it wasn’t part of the choreography due to the expression on Zola’s face. At first, it was a look of shock and then annoyance. Still rocking with the song, she slipped out of his grip and smiled as she continued to rock with the beat further away.

Trigger returned to her.

She slipped out of his grip and swung her hips.

Frowning, Trigger slashed the air and yelled at the director, “Cut!”

The music ended.

The dancers paused.

“Yo, someone explain to her who’s running this situation today.” Trigger gestured at Zola.

She frowned. “I’m doing the steps. Those weren’t part of the steps.”

“It won’t all be the choreography routine. I’m feeling the groove right now, and you need to flow with it.”

She glared at him. “This isn’t my first music video.”

“Meaning?”

“Let’s just stick with the steps.”

Trigger gave out a dark chuckle. “First of all—”

“We’re done.” I walked over to the stage and climbed on top with ease. “You’ve got enough footage of Zola.”

Trigger formed his hands into fists. “And look at this guy. He thinks he’s fucking Chuck Norris or something.”

I growled.

“Okay! Okay!” The director got on the stage. “No one cares about Chuck Norris or anything like that. We’re fucking up the timing. I need more shots and—”

“You know what? Zola has been out of line from the beginning. Tell this bitch that she doesn’t run this video.” Trigger’s voice rose high and spittle flew from his lips. “What we’re going to do is, when the music comes on, I’m going to—”

I punched him in the face. His bones cracked under my fists. Someone screamed on the side.