Lance Navarro woke up the next morning with the same nagging throb at the back of his head. It wasn’t painful, just… persistent. Like a soft buzz reminding him that something had changed.
What the hell even happened yesterday? he thought as he looked at his reflection. He could still feel Natalia’s touch—her fingers wrapped around him, the sensual curve of her body pressing against his, the way she made him feel like a toy she could play with anytime she pleased.
And yet… despite the confusion, there was also something electrifying about it.
Focus, he told himself. Three months. That’s all I have. No screw-ups.
Lance knew he had to work hard. The agency gave him a limited contract—just enough time to prove himself. If he played it smart, kept his head down, maybe he could stay. Maybe he could finally have a stable job.
But as he walked into Resplendent Models Inc., he already felt the same strange energy brushing against his skin. Female staff and models glanced at him more than usual—some subtly, some not-so-subtly.
“It’s like they’re drawn to me…”
He shook the thought off.
“Just work,” he muttered under his breath.
—
By mid-morning, Lance had finished mopping one of the side hallways when he passed by the wardrobe department—a large, open room filled with racks of clothes, half-dressed mannequins, and stylists buzzing around. One of the models had just finished a fitting and was walking out in a tight robe that barely covered her hips.
“Excuse me!” a voice called from inside.
Lance paused and looked inside. A tall, slender Japanese model—Camille Akiyama—stood near a rack, tugging down on a dress that seemed stuck halfway.
Her voice was calm, but her cheeks were flushed.
“Uhm… hey. Could I get your help, please? This zipper’s being a pain.”
He hesitated at the door.
“Uh, sure. You sure it’s okay? I mean—”
She giggled.
“I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t. Besides, you work here now, right?”
He stepped in, careful not to look directly, but curiosity tugged at him.
Camille turned her back to him, holding her long black hair up.
“Go ahead. Just pull it down gently.”
Lance reached for the zipper, fingers brushing against her soft skin. The moment he did, the zipper slipped down on its own—too fast. The back of the dress fell open, exposing her bare back and—unintentionally—one full breast slipping out from the side.
Lance froze, eyes wide.
“S-Sorry, I—”
Camille turned around casually, not even attempting to cover herself.
“It’s okay,” she said, smiling coyly.
“You’ve got a cute reaction.”
He gulped, trying hard not to stare, but she stepped closer.
“You’re tense. Relax. You act like you’ve never seen a girl’s chest before,” she teased, looking directly at his growing bulge.
Lance felt his pants tightening. Oh no… not now. He tried to step back, but she caught his wrist and leaned in, her eyes playful.
Before she could say more, the sharp, furious clack of high heels echoed down the hall—each step a warning shot drawing nearer.
“Camille.”
Natalia Volkova’s voice sliced through the tension like a blade. She stepped into the room, eyes cold, heels striking the floor with purpose.
“Back to your fitting,” she said curtly.
Camille raised an eyebrow but didn’t argue. She winked at Lance and walked out slowly, swaying her hips just a little more than necessary.
Natalia turned her gaze to Lance, arms folded.
“Follow me. Now.”
—
Inside her office, Natalia’s usual stoic mask cracked only slightly. She shut the door and leaned against it, locking it behind her.
“You really attract trouble, don’t you, Mr. Navarro?”
“I—It wasn’t my fault, I just—”
She stepped closer, eyes narrowing.
“I didn’t say it was.”
Lance swallowed hard as she circled him like a predator eyeing its prey.
“I’ve been watching you,” she said, voice low and sultry.
“The way the girls look at you… even the staff. Something’s off about you.”
He flinched. She knows something?
Natalia tilted her head, smirking.
“And yet, I find myself curious. Very curious.”
Before he could speak, she moved in front of him, grabbing his belt with deliberate intent.
“N-Natalia—”
“Shhh,” she hushed, sinking to her knees.
“You didn’t think I called you here just to scold you, did you?”
Her hands moved with grace, undoing his belt, unzipping his pants. Lance stood frozen, his breath catching in his throat.
“N-Natalia, I swear I didn’t mean—”
“Oh, don’t even start,” she cut him off sharply, eyes flashing with irritation.
“One day in and you’re already getting too comfortable. Letting models undress in front of you now?”
“I-It was an accident—” he tried to explain, but she yanked his pants down in one swift motion, making him gasp.
“Save it,” she snapped.
“You think I don’t know how women look at you? You think I can’t tell when someone’s getting hard over a pretty pair of tits?”
Then—warmth. Her lips wrapped around him without warning.
Lance’s knees nearly buckled. Holy shit…
She worked slowly at first, savoring every twitch and shudder he gave. Her tongue teased along his underside, swirling around the head before she sank deeper, her lips wrapping tight and wet around him. Her mouth was a furnace—hot, hungry, relentless. Each bob of her head grew bolder, sloppier, the sounds of her sucking echoing lewdly in the heavy, private air of her office. Her hands gripped his thighs with purpose, fingers digging in, as if daring him to move, to thrust, to lose control. Saliva dripped from her chin as she took him deeper still, her throat fluttering around him with every moan she let slip—each one vibrating through his core, coaxing him closer to the edge.
Between strokes, she pulled back just enough to speak, her voice laced with mock reprimand.
“You need to learn discipline, Lance…”
He gripped the edge of the desk behind him, trying not to groan.
“I-I wasn’t—”
“Quiet.” She gave his shaft a slow, punishing lick.
“You’re here to work, not to get cozy with every girl flashing skin.”
He could barely think. Her mouth was back on him, faster now, her tongue swirling, sucking harder.
“You’re lucky I’m the one who caught you,” she mumbled, lips brushing his tip before taking him deep again.
“Camille would’ve eaten you alive.”
Lance whimpered.
“Natalia… I’m gonna—”
“Oh, I know,” she purred, refusing to stop.
“Let it out.”
She took him to the hilt, her lips sealed tightly around his length as he spilled deep into her throat. A low, satisfied moan vibrated from her chest, sending aftershocks through his body. She didn’t pull away until she’d swallowed every drop—slow, practiced, deliberate. Rising to her feet with grace, she wiped the corner of her mouth with two fingers, then slipped them past her lips, sucking them clean with a quiet pop. Her eyes met his—dark, unreadable—while her body radiated a calm, dangerous confidence that made his knees feel weak all over again.
“You taste sweet when you’re guilty,” she teased, adjusting her blouse.
Lance was still catching his breath, heart pounding in his chest.
She walked back to her desk as if nothing happened.
“Clean yourself up. And don’t let Camille distract you again. She’s a bit… playful.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he muttered, cheeks flushed.
—
Lance stepped out of the office, mind spinning.
What the hell is happening?
His thoughts were a blur. One minute he was helping a model with her dress, the next, Natalia was on her knees like she owned him. And yet… he wasn’t complaining.
But this isn’t normal. Something’s not right.
He clutched his chest. The strange heat he’d been feeling was stronger than before. Like something was shifting inside him—growing.
This… attraction. This power. It’s not just luck. It’s something else.
He stared down the hallway, the soft murmurs of the staff, the glances from women passing by. Their eyes lingered. Their lips curved with interest.
And in that moment, something clicked.
This isn’t just about lust. Something inside me… is pulling them in.
He took a deep breath and walked forward.
Unaware that the one woman who tried to play with him—Natalia—might soon find herself helplessly tangled in the very thing she thought she controlled.