Campus Belle’s Construction Site Secret - Chapter 3: Chapter 3
You are reading Campus Belle’s Construction Site Secret, Chapter 3: Chapter 3. Read more chapters of Campus Belle’s Construction Site Secret.
As evening shadows stretched across the abandoned lot, Sophia practically yanked me back to the construction site by my wrist.
Vincent stood waiting with that cocky grin of his, all white teeth and confidence.
Turns out they'd met in some sketchy online forum—go figure.
Vincent Lombardi. The name rolled off his tongue like he expected me to recognize it.
Rubbing the back of his neck, he shot Sophia a skeptical look. "Alright, sweetheart, I'll be real—I've never done boudoir shoots. What's the play here?"
Sophia's smirk turned downright devilish as she unzipped her bag, revealing an assortment of scandalous outfits and props.
"Relax, Vince," she purred, tossing me a bundle of fabric. "Just do what I say."
She pointed me toward a crumbling pillar. "Go change."
But the second I stepped out, I knew I'd been set up.
The dress was practically painted on—a bodycon nightmare that clung to every curve like it had a personal vendetta. The stockings might as well have been invisible.
Every step felt like a betrayal, the fabric refusing to stay put, leaving half my backside on display.
I shuffled forward, arms crossed over my chest, face burning.
Sophia burst out laughing. "Since when do you get shy? You're usually all talk. Now get between them."
I inched forward, clutching myself like the dress might disintegrate any second.
And then I felt it—Vincent's stare, slow and deliberate, tracing every inch of exposed skin.
"Vince, closer," Sophia commanded. "Squeeze her in."
The next thing I knew, his body was flush against mine—solid, unyielding, radiating heat. His breath smelled faintly of cigarettes, warm against my neck.
"Perfect," Sophia cooed. "Evelyn, give me that look. The one that says you know exactly what you're doing."
Click.
One down.
But boudoir shoots weren't about one shot. They were about dozens. Hundreds.
And judging by the wicked glint in Sophia's eye, this was just the beginning.
"Now," she said, voice dripping with amusement, "hands on her thighs. Her waist. Higher."
Before she even finished, two rough palms claimed their territory—no hesitation, no mercy.
Vincent stood waiting with that cocky grin of his, all white teeth and confidence.
Turns out they'd met in some sketchy online forum—go figure.
Vincent Lombardi. The name rolled off his tongue like he expected me to recognize it.
Rubbing the back of his neck, he shot Sophia a skeptical look. "Alright, sweetheart, I'll be real—I've never done boudoir shoots. What's the play here?"
Sophia's smirk turned downright devilish as she unzipped her bag, revealing an assortment of scandalous outfits and props.
"Relax, Vince," she purred, tossing me a bundle of fabric. "Just do what I say."
She pointed me toward a crumbling pillar. "Go change."
But the second I stepped out, I knew I'd been set up.
The dress was practically painted on—a bodycon nightmare that clung to every curve like it had a personal vendetta. The stockings might as well have been invisible.
Every step felt like a betrayal, the fabric refusing to stay put, leaving half my backside on display.
I shuffled forward, arms crossed over my chest, face burning.
Sophia burst out laughing. "Since when do you get shy? You're usually all talk. Now get between them."
I inched forward, clutching myself like the dress might disintegrate any second.
And then I felt it—Vincent's stare, slow and deliberate, tracing every inch of exposed skin.
"Vince, closer," Sophia commanded. "Squeeze her in."
The next thing I knew, his body was flush against mine—solid, unyielding, radiating heat. His breath smelled faintly of cigarettes, warm against my neck.
"Perfect," Sophia cooed. "Evelyn, give me that look. The one that says you know exactly what you're doing."
Click.
One down.
But boudoir shoots weren't about one shot. They were about dozens. Hundreds.
And judging by the wicked glint in Sophia's eye, this was just the beginning.
"Now," she said, voice dripping with amusement, "hands on her thighs. Her waist. Higher."
Before she even finished, two rough palms claimed their territory—no hesitation, no mercy.
End of Campus Belle’s Construction Site Secret Chapter 3. Continue reading Chapter 4 or return to Campus Belle’s Construction Site Secret book page.