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Tanvi didn’t ask too many questions.
The job description was vague: “Content shoot for a fake relationship. Photos only. High compensation. Discretion guaranteed.” No brand. No product mention. Just $10,000 and a quiet assurance from her modeling agent that her face would be altered if necessary. AI filters, blurred identities–nothing that would violate her parents’ wishes.
That was the key.
Because even now, at twenty years old, Tanvi was bound by the weight of their expectations. Her parents had allowed her to model in high school–barely–and only after she won pageants and attracted agency attention. But when college came around, they shut it all down. Her scholarships covered some tuition, but her parents funded the rest–and their condition was strict: focus on school, no modeling, no public exposure.
She hated it. She loved modeling. She knew she could be successful. And she hated hiding who she was just to keep the peace. So she found a compromise–work behind the scenes, with AI edits and a confidentiality clause. She needed the money, and this job paid more than any she’d seen.
But standing on the stone front steps of a waterfront house in Florida, suitcase in hand, Tanvi suddenly felt unsure. What does “fake relationship content” even mean? Her stomach fluttered–not out of fear exactly, but something sharper. Curiosity. Anticipation.
Then the door opened.
And everything inside her flipped.
Arjun.
He stood barefoot in the doorway, wearing dark linen pants and a fitted white T-shirt. He was tall, maybe 6’1″, his frame strong but lean–like someone who worked out with purpose. His skin was a warm golden brown, and his face, framed by thick black hair and a neatly trimmed dark beard, looked like it belonged on the cover of something expensive. His dark eyes studied her for a moment–not with judgment, not with arrogance, but something quiet. Calm. Focused.
“You must be Tanvi,” he said, smiling. His voice was deep, smooth, slightly rough at the edges like worn velvet. There was something old-school about him–like he didn’t need to try hard to make an impression. He already had.
“I am,” she replied, a little softer than she meant to. Her voice caught in her throat. She stepped inside.
The house was gorgeous: clean lines, big windows, high ceilings. Her agent gave her the rundown again–just like on the phone. Vacation-style photos. Couple moments. Candid intimacy. Some in swimwear. Nothing explicit. “The client wants to look like he’s moved on,” her agent said. “So we’re creating memories that never happened.”
But once the camera started clicking, it was obvious the moments didn’t feel real.
They posed at a dinner table, him pretending to brush her hand. Her smiling mid-laugh. Staged. Awkward. Stiff. Her body hit its marks–graceful, poised, perfectly camera-ready–but inside, she was disconnected.
After twenty minutes of stilted work, Tanvi finally spoke up.
“This isn’t working,” she said, glancing at her agent and the photographer. “It looks fake.”
Her agent blinked. “It’s supposed to be fake.”
“No,” Tanvi said, more confidently. “It’s supposed to look real. Right now, it doesn’t.”
A beat passed. Then, the agent sighed. “Do you want us to step out?”
Tanvi nodded.
The door clicked shut. The room went quiet.
Now it was just her and Arjun.
He turned to her slowly, a crooked smile playing under his beard. “So… what makes it feel real to you?”
She tried to laugh but ended up biting her lip instead. “Let’s just talk. Take selfies. Like people actually do.”
He nodded and sat beside her on the couch, close but not too close. She opened her phone’s camera. Their shoulders touched. Her body buzzed from the warmth of his. His cologne was subtle–something woodsy, faintly smoky, deeply masculine. She tried to focus on framing the shot, but his nearness clouded her thoughts.
Click.
Another. Then another.
Each one came easier. More natural. They started laughing between takes. She leaned into him. His arm slid behind her without thinking.
Tanvi’s heart beat faster. This wasn’t staged. It was happening.
Later, they moved outside to the pool. The light was perfect. Tanvi shed her cover-up slowly, trying not to be self-conscious–but she saw the way Arjun looked at her. He wasn’t leering. Just… watching. His eyes followed the lines of her body with calm intensity.
She was in her element in the sun, the bikini fitting her toned frame perfectly–tight stomach, smooth skin, long legs. Years of pilates and careful control had kept her body sharp, precise. Still, nothing could’ve prepared her for what happened next.
Arjun pulled off his shirt.
Tanvi’s stomach flipped again. His chest was sculpted, but not like a gym addict–like someone who surfed or swam or fought gravity daily. His skin glowed in the light, and when he adjusted the waistband of his shorts–
Oh.
She didn’t mean to stare, but her eyes landed on the outline pressing fatih escort against the fabric. It was… large. Thick. Impossible to ignore. Her breath caught. Her thighs clenched slightly without meaning to.
He turned back to her, catching her expression.
“You okay?” he asked, tone casual–but that same crooked smile was there again, deeper now, more confident.
Tanvi forced herself to nod. “Yeah. Just… warm.”
Arjun stepped into the pool, his dark beard wetting slightly at the edge of his jaw. He looked like a man in a cologne ad. She followed him, water wrapping her body, cooling her skin but doing nothing to ease the rising heat inside.
As they posed in the water–closer now, touching, laughing–Tanvi realized she was no longer pretending. The job had started as a way to make money.
Now she wasn’t sure what it was anymore.
And she wasn’t sure she wanted to stop.
The water wrapped around them like silk, warm and shimmering beneath the golden sun. Tanvi adjusted her hair behind one ear, casually floating beside Arjun as they leaned on the pool’s edge for a more “candid” shot. But by now, neither of them was really thinking about the camera.
They were alone. Her phone sat face-down on a lounge chair, forgotten. The soft splash of water, the gentle hum of palm fronds shifting in the breeze–everything else faded into the background.
Tanvi tilted her head slightly, studying him.
“You know,” she said, voice low and teasing, “I never asked… why are we doing all this?”
Arjun glanced at her, amused. “The fake relationship?”
She nodded. “Yeah. What’s the point of faking a girlfriend? You could probably have a real one if you wanted.”
He exhaled slowly and looked toward the water, his fingers tracing gentle ripples over the surface. When he looked back at her, his eyes were darker. More serious.
“My ex-wife is a mess,” he said. “Addicted. Manipulative. The divorce is complicated because she’s trying to paint this picture of me… as cold. Unloving. And now she’s claiming I wasn’t even capable of… performing husbandly duties.”
Tanvi blinked. “Wait. Like–“
“She’s implying I’m emotionally and physically dysfunctional,” he said with a dry smile. “Unfit for intimacy. That no woman would want me.”
Her eyes widened. “That’s… extreme.”
“She’s trying to destroy my credibility, and if she wins, she takes half of everything. The house, the savings, all of it.”
Tanvi was quiet, absorbing the weight of it. She hadn’t expected the story to be this personal. Or this raw.
“So,” he continued, “I needed proof that I’m fine. Functional. Desirable. That I have a life–and that women, like you, are drawn to me.”
The way he said you sent a subtle spark flickering across her skin.
She swallowed slowly, her gaze settling on his face–his strong features, that dark beard framing his mouth, and the eyes that hadn’t left hers since he started speaking. His body language was relaxed, but his energy was coiled. Controlled. Tension beneath the surface.
“And are you?” she asked.
“Am I what?”
“Desirable?”
He raised an eyebrow, his mouth curving into a slow grin. “You tell me.”
She looked down at the water, cheeks warming. Her heart was fluttering again, but not from nerves this time. From wanting. Wondering.
She took a step closer.
“You know,” she said, barely above a whisper, “this would probably look more convincing if we were touching.”
He didn’t move at first–he just let the silence stretch between them, until it buzzed with possibility.
Then slowly, he reached out, brushing her wet hair back behind her shoulder, fingertips trailing lightly along the line of her collarbone. His touch was featherlight–almost too soft–and yet Tanvi felt it everywhere. Her stomach tightened. Her breath caught.
His hand lingered.
“Touch me, then,” he said, his voice rougher now.
She raised her hand to his chest, placing it flat against the firm warmth of his skin. His heartbeat was strong beneath her palm. She let her fingers explore slightly, tracing the line where his pectorals met his shoulder, down to the slick curve of his bicep.
“You’re not exactly what she described,” Tanvi murmured.
He stepped even closer. Now there were only inches between them. She could feel his breath. The water clung to her skin, to the barely-there fabric of her bikini, and she became intensely aware of how exposed she was. But instead of backing away, she tilted her chin up.
His hand slid from her shoulder down to her waist, fingers grazing the curve of her side. Her body leaned into his naturally, magnetized.
“No,” Arjun said, his voice lower now. “I’m not.”
For a moment, neither of them moved. She could feel the heat between them building, slowly, deliberately. Every inch of her skin was buzzing. Every sense was locked on his–his scent, his warmth, his mouth just inches from hers.
Then she reached çapa escort up, fingertips trailing along the edge of his beard, her thumb grazing just below his lower lip. His breath hitched ever so slightly, but he didn’t move–he just looked at her, eyes heavy, patient, waiting.
But before she could lean in further, a thought pulled her back, grounding her for just a second.
She blinked, voice soft but clear. “Are there… cameras out here?”
Arjun’s eyes flicked to the corner of the house, then to a spot tucked into the ceiling of the patio. “Yes,” he said, calm and unapologetic. “Two. One over the pool. One under the balcony. HD video. And audio.”
Tanvi held his gaze, heart beating faster now–but not from fear. From the thrill.
“All that for a photoshoot?” she asked, a teasing smile tugging at the corner of her lips.
“I needed convincing footage,” he said with a slow shrug, his hand still on her waist. “Not just for the court. For her. She thinks no one would even touch me.”
Tanvi’s smile deepened. Her body pressed closer against his, the water between them barely a barrier now.
“Well,” she whispered, lifting her chin again, “then maybe we should give her something to watch.”
Arjun’s eyes flickered–something between surprise and hunger–and then he smiled. Not cocky. Not rushed. Just slow, confident approval.
“You sure?” he asked, his thumb brushing lightly along her waist, beneath the edge of her bikini top.
She nodded once. “Very.”
Then his mouth was on hers.
Not rushed. Not forceful. Just full–like he’d been holding back since the moment she stepped through the door. His lips were warm and firm, and his hand moved to the small of her back, drawing her in until her chest pressed fully against his. She kissed him back, her arms wrapping around his shoulders, fingers slipping into the damp curls at the nape of his neck.
The water sloshed gently around them, catching light as they moved closer still. His other hand slid up the side of her ribcage, careful and slow, the touch so light it made her shiver. Her bikini clung to her, thin and soaked, and she was aware of every inch of her skin–aware of how completely seen she was, under the eye of the cameras, and how that didn’t scare her.
In fact, it excited her.
His mouth moved from hers, down to her jaw, then to her neck–lips dragging along the wet skin. She tilted her head instinctively, giving him more access, feeling a soft moan escape her throat without permission.
“You still good?” he murmured against her neck.
She nodded, breathless. “Keep going.”
And he did.
His hand slipped lower, under the water, curving around her thigh, pulling her closer so she could feel the heat of him through his swim trunks–hard, insistent, pressed right against the soft heat between her legs. The contact made her gasp quietly, hips pressing forward as a reflex.
She’d never felt this way before–not with her high school boyfriend, not with the one guy she’d slept with during college, a rushed, disappointing encounter she barely thought about anymore.
But this? This was slow. Real. A burn rather than a spark. And it was all being captured, in crisp, perfect HD.
“Let her watch,” Tanvi whispered against his ear.
And Arjun smiled like he’d just won something he wasn’t sure he’d dared to hope for.
The warmth of the Florida sun was nothing compared to the heat between them.
Tanvi pressed closer, her arms looped around Arjun’s neck, his hands firm on her waist as their mouths met again–this time deeper, slower, heavier. His kiss wasn’t tentative anymore. It was deliberate. Possessive. And she wanted that–wanted to feel claimed, seen, touched like she was something someone couldn’t resist.
The water rippled gently around them as he backed her toward the shallow edge, his hands guiding her until her hips bumped lightly against the pool wall. She broke the kiss just enough to breathe, her lips parted, her eyes heavy and locked on his.
“This okay?” he asked, voice low and slightly rough, like he was holding himself in check.
She nodded, barely able to speak. “Yes. Don’t stop.”
His hands slid down, under the water, fingertips tracing her outer thighs slowly, then curving inward. Her breath caught as he leaned in, lips brushing her jaw, down her neck, his beard tickling her skin in the most delicious way. She tilted her head back, baring more of her throat as his mouth found the sweet spot just below her ear.
“God,” she whispered, her voice shaky with need.
Her bikini bottoms were barely there–wet fabric clinging tightly to her, making every shift of his hand feel more intimate, more daring. He moved deliberately, one hand pressing against the small of her back while the other slipped under the water and gently cupped her between her thighs.
She gasped–sharp, involuntary.
The touch was firm but patient. His thumb brushed along the edge of the fabric, testing güngören escort her, teasing her. She shifted against him instinctively, her hips pressing forward, wordlessly asking for more.
“You’re so warm,” he murmured against her skin.
She whimpered softly, her fingers digging into his shoulders. The contact was electric. His fingers moved again, this time slipping under the fabric of her bikini bottoms, finally finding the soft, slick heat of her.
Tanvi’s knees almost buckled.
He touched her slowly, carefully–just enough pressure to make her tremble, but not enough to satisfy. She clung to him, her cheek resting against his, her breath hot against his neck.
Her hips rocked gently into his hand, her thighs parting a little wider under the water.
“You like that?” he whispered.
She nodded, lips against his ear. “Yes. Please… don’t stop.”
He didn’t.
His fingers moved in slow, deliberate circles, stroking her expertly while she melted against him. The wet fabric of her bikini stuck between them, but she didn’t care. The friction, the water, the knowledge that they were being recorded–it all combined into something wild and thrilling. She was aching, burning, completely present in every sensation.
Arjun’s other hand cupped the back of her neck, holding her as her breathing quickened, soft gasps escaping her lips.
“Let go,” he murmured. “Come for me.”
His voice–low, commanding, tender–sent her over the edge.
Her body tightened, her thighs squeezing around his hand as the orgasm washed through her in waves. She clung to him, half-buried in his neck, her breath broken and fast, lips brushing his shoulder as she rode it out.
When it passed, she pulled back slightly, blinking up at him–eyes dazed, mouth parted, hair damp and clinging to her face.
“You’re not at all what I expected,” she whispered.
Arjun smiled, brushing his fingers across her cheek. “Neither are you.”
They stayed like that for a moment, chest to chest, the water quiet around them, the air heavy with the charge of what had just happened–and what might still come next.
Tanvi’s breath was steady now, but her pulse pounded. She leaned in for one more slow kiss, savoring the way Arjun’s lips parted under hers, the way his hands gripped her hips under the water like he was holding back something primal.
But she had other plans.
Without a word, she eased off his lap, the water rippling between them. Her eyes didn’t leave his as she slowly knelt in the pool in front of him, her body slick and glowing beneath the sun. She slid her fingers under the waistband of his swim shorts.
His breath hitched. He watched her, perfectly still.
“You sure?” he asked, his voice rougher now.
Tanvi glanced briefly toward the mounted camera before looking back at him. “As long as the AI blurs my face.”
“It will,” he said, eyes dark, voice like gravel. “I promised you.”
That was all she needed.
She slid his shorts down, inch by inch, and her eyes widened as he sprang free. He was big. Thick. Beautiful in the most intimidating way. She let out a quiet, involuntary breath, unable to stop herself from staring.
It was more than she expected. More than she was used to.
More than her body–or mouth–had ever handled.
She reached out with both hands, wrapping her fingers gently around him. Even that took effort. He twitched in her grasp, and she looked up through her lashes, lips parted, anticipation crackling across her skin.
Arjun shifted slightly, trying to raise a hand toward her cheek.
She caught his wrist gently.
“No,” she whispered. “This has to look like it’s all me.”
Her voice was low but firm. Her control had returned–soft but unmistakable.
He sank back, letting her lead.
She leaned in, lips brushing his tip, her breath hot against his length. Then, slowly, deliberately, she took him into her mouth.
It wasn’t easy. The stretch of him filled her instantly, her lips tightening as she adjusted. Her jaw ached almost immediately, but she didn’t stop. She let her tongue move slowly, teasing the underside, her hands gripping his thighs underwater for balance.
She moaned softly–part pleasure, part effort.
Arjun’s head fell back, a groan escaping his throat as she continued, taking more of him with every pass. The cameras were catching everything now–her devotion, her hunger, her struggle to take him deeper. Her hair floated around her shoulders like silk in the water.
Then, without warning, she reached behind her neck and untied her bikini top.
The fabric floated away silently, drifting behind her like a ribbon.
Her breasts spilled into the water, round and perfect, nipples taut from the chill and the arousal. She didn’t hide them. She didn’t pause. She let them show, let them be part of it. She wanted it to look real. She wanted him to know how far she was willing to go for this–for the scene, for the job, for herself.
She took him deeper.
Her throat fought it. Tears welled in her eyes. But she stayed in control, adjusting her angle, relaxing her jaw as much as she could. She wanted to prove she could do this. That she could take him. Not just for the camera, but because she wanted to. Needed to.
Because right now, Tanvi wasn’t pretending.
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