by Tracy Wolff
The contrast between the bright, warm outdoors and the cool darkness of the photography museum took a few moments to get used to. As Serena paused to get her bearings, Kevin reached for his wallet to pay the admission price, but Serena stopped him.
“My surprise, my treat,” she said, pulling out a twenty-dollar bill.
Kevin eyed her in surprise. “I don’t mind—”
“I do.” She squeezed his hand before turning to the elderly woman behind the desk. “Two please.”
“I only charged you half price, since we’re closing in about forty-five minutes,” she was told as the woman gave her more change than she expected. “That’s why we’re just about empty.”
Perfect. Anticipation thrummed through Serena as she tugged Kevin into the main collection room. “Thanks. That’s great,” she called over her shoulder. “We just want to look around a little.”
They strolled through the main gallery looking at the photos by numerous photographers. Kevin stopped before two photos with artificially bright colors that ran together. “I like these,” he murmured, studying the pictures of a street fair. In the first, all the people and booths blurred together in a surreal riot of color with only the perfect sandcastles in the distance in focus. The second had the same blurred colorscape, but it focused on the once perfect sandcastles being destroyed as children in brightly colored suits ran through them.
He glanced down to see the photographer’s name, felt a jolt when he realized they were Serena’s. His eyes flew to hers and she shrugged. “My one and only museum pieces.”
“They’re fabulous. I didn’t realize—”
“Didn’t realize what?” she teased, dragging him away. “That I actually know what I’m doing?”
“No!” he protested. “Just that—”
She leaned forward and kissed him, effectively shutting down his argument. “Come on. I want to see Glenn’s work.” She pulled him into one of the smaller rooms off the main one.
It took him a moment to adjust to the near total blackness in the room, the darkness illuminated only by the small spotlights focused individually on each of the photos on the wall. As his eyes gradually adjusted, he took in the images closest to him. His body stiffened a little more with each frame that he looked at.
He reached out, snagged Serena’s hand as she moved away from him. “Exactly what kind of exhibit is this?” he asked.
She grinned slyly, tugging her hand from his. “Glenn specializes in erotic photography.”
Kevin sucked air through his teeth as he hardened instantly. He stared at a particularly provocative black-and-white photo of a man on his knees in front of a woman. They were both dressed, but her skirt was hiked up to her waist. And though the camera was angled in such a way that it was impossible to see the details, the look on the woman’s face spoke volumes about what was going on.
His overactive libido substituted Serena’s gorgeous face and body for the woman’s in the photograph and he felt himself growing harder still. He shifted, trying to make his erection a little less noticeable.
Until he saw the next picture in the series. The same woman was lying on a bed, her dress gone and her thighs spread open as she rested on her elbows. Though her underwear covered as much as a bathing suit, once again it was the look in her eyes and the energy pouring through her that told the story. Last night, Serena had been in just that position. Her beautiful back arched, her gorgeous breasts lifted for his mouth, her silken thighs laid open for him.
Suddenly a powerful surge of lust hit him, so powerful, in fact, that he was afraid to move in case he totally lost it. What the hell was wrong with him? He was an artist, had studied erotic art and photography in school and had never reacted to it like this. So why now, when he wanted to be cool and suave, was he reacting like a sex-crazed teenager?
Serena’s spicy perfume tempted him almost beyond bearing as she came back to him, reaching out a hand to grasp his. “Do you like?” Her voice was low and teasing.
He cleared his throat, tried not to embarrass himself. “What’s not to like?”
“That’s what I say,” she said with a grin. “Come here, I want to show you my favorites.”
She dragged him over to a corner display of three black-and-white photos. The second he was close enough to see, his entire body tightened to the point of agony. The first photo showed a man and a woman in evening clothes. They were running in the rain, and though they had an umbrella, the woman’s white dress was plastered to her body, revealing shadows of both her nipples and her pubic hair. In the second photo, the man had her backed up against a brick wall. His body pressed intimately against hers while his hands tangled in her wet hair and his mouth brushed kisses on her neck.
The final photo showed him cupping her ass while she wrapped her legs around his waist. Her skirt was bunched between them and her head rested against the wall as he sucked her nipple into his mouth. As he stared, wordlessly, at the picture, flashes of Serena in just such a position whirled through his mind. Her beautiful breasts spilling over the top of her dress. Her long, elegant legs wrapped around his waist. Her head thrown back in ecstasy as he pumped into her again and again.
The image was so real he nearly came right there in the middle of the museum. Clearing his throat, Kevin blinked and shook his head, trying desperately to chase the image of Serena in the middle of an orgasm from his mind.
“So, what do you think?” she asked.
“About what?” He didn’t turn and look at her, knowing that he’d grab her if he did. Not that looking at the photographs was doing much to calm him down, but he’d take what he could get in a crisis.
She laid her hand on his arm, waited patiently until his eyes met hers. “About the pictures.”
He cleared his throat again, a gesture that was getting to be a habit around her. “I like them. Especially the last one. It’s very …” His voice trailed off.
“Sensual?” she asked, her voice dropping to a husky whisper. “Realistic? Arousing?” She stepped closer, glancing down at his very obvious erection as she did.
“Uh, definitely. All of those.” He took a step back, his pride smarting over having to retreat from her. But Serena was so into the photos he didn’t want to ruin it for her by acting like a total pervert who couldn’t handle some really beautiful adult art.
“I think so too.” She moved another step closer to him, her breasts nearly brushing his chest before she turned back to the photos. “I’ve seen them before, right after Glenn finished them. The last one’s my favorite too. You can see the passion between them, not just in the obvious sexual position. But in the details.
“See how her hands are on his shoulders? They’re not just resting there. They’re clinging, the fingers digging in as she arches her lower body against him.” Her hands rested on his shoulders, lightly caressing him through his jacket.
“And his hands aren’t just grabbing her ass so he can fuck her. Look at him. He’s pulling her into him possessively—claiming her as his, branding her with more than just his cock.” One hand skimmed down his back to rest firmly on his ass while the other continued to massage his shoulders.
“Look how she’s offering herself to him. He isn’t just taking, she’s giving. Look at how she’s thrusting her breast into his mouth. You can tell that she’s begging for more. That she wants his mouth everywhere at once.” She stepped behind him, thrust her breasts against his back as her hands crept around to his chest, her fingers lightly flicking against his rapidly hardening nipples.
“Her head’s thrown back, exposing the slender column of her throat. A totally defenseless position. Her legs are wrapped around him, once again giving him the position of power. She’s so vulnerable that he could hurt her, easily. A hand around her throat, a too violent thrust. But he doesn’t. He’s as vulnerable to her as she is to him.” She rested her head against his shoulders even as she began stroking his erection through his pants, hand over hand.
Kevin reached down, trapping her hands aga
inst him as he thrust helplessly against her. He couldn’t remember ever being this turned on in his entire life. Each breath burned violently through his lungs. Each beat of his heart thudded painfully in his chest. Each caress of her fingers pulsed through him, until his cock was so hard he felt like it could hammer nails through concrete. Literally.
He thrust one more time against her hands and then stilled. He turned, pulling her into his arms as he lowered his mouth to her ear. “Let’s go find the limo,” he murmured.
“The limo?” Her eyes were almost as glazed as his.
“I’ll die if I’m not inside you. Soon.”
She licked her lips, even as she wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed against him. “Here. Now.”
“Right now?” He wanted to protest, to tell her all the reasons it was a bad idea. But her words whirled through him, taking his excitement to a level he hadn’t thought possible.
She nodded, pulling him into the dark and shadowed corner. “Right now.” She opened his belt and unbuttoned his pants. He nearly shouted in ecstasy when his cock sprang free of the confining clothes as her talented fingers slowly lowered his zipper.
But he had to be sure she knew what she was doing, had to be sure she really wanted this. “Serena, we should stop. Go somewhere more private.” Though it cost him dearly, he stopped her gentle stroking with his own hands.
“I don’t want to.” She licked her lips, pulled him with her as she backed up against the wall.
He pulled back, studied her face. “Are you sure?”
“You worry too much,” she murmured, leaning forward and blowing a stream of warm air against his ear. “Touch me.” Serena guided his hand under her skirt and up to her hot, wet folds.
His fingers found her, stroked her clit before he could stop himself. “You’re not wearing any—”
“Nope. Just a garter belt and stockings. Nothing else.”
“Damn,” he breathed, slipping a finger inside of her. “You feel so good.”
She moaned low in her throat, arched her hips and pulled him deeper inside of her. “So do you. Now fuck me before I explode.”
The vulgar words speared through him, increasing his excitement to a fever pitch. With a groan, he slipped his hands under her ass and lifted her against the wall. His cock pressed urgently against her, wetness already leaking from its head.
“Wait,” she cried breathlessly, reaching into the very top of her stocking and pulling out a condom. “You need this.”
How could he have forgotten? He moved to take it from her, but she tore the package open with her teeth and slowly, slowly rolled the thin barrier over him. By the time the thing was on he was desperate for her. With one hard thrust he buried himself to the hilt, loving the feel of her tight, wet muscles around him.
“Mon Dieu, Serena. You’re wicked.” Again and again he pounded into her willing body.
“I know.” She pushed against him. “Harder, Kevin. Please. Harder.”
Her long legs were locked around him. Her head was thrown back. Her nipple was in his mouth. One hand was wrapped around his shoulders and the other slipped between them to stroke her clit as she pleaded with him. He gave her what she wanted, thrusting harder and deeper than he ever had before.
As he filled her completely, as he pounded into her as hard and as fast as possible, it came to him. He loved this woman. Loved everything about her, from the calm and cool woman she showed the public to the hot-blooded, passionate woman who made love to him better and hotter than anyone ever had. He loved holding her in his arms, loved watching her sleep, loved her strengths and her vulnerabilities.
As the realization of his feelings for her swept through him, so did the urgent need to come. “Serena, mon amour,” he gasped. “I can’t last much—”
With a low, keening cry she shattered, her muscles milking him until he too let go of his control and came apart in her arms.
When the last shudders passed, Serena rested her forehead against Kevin’s. Mission accomplished. She’d set out to seduce him and she’d done one hell of a job, if she did say so herself. Not that it was exactly difficult. He was the most passionate, responsive man she’d ever known. And while she had never considered doing something like this with any other man, with Kevin it felt right.
She sighed, allowed herself to drift as Kevin stroked her hair and pressed soft kisses against her forehead, her cheeks, her neck. “I could stay like this forever,” she murmured.
“Me too, cher. Me too.” But as Kevin was speaking the lights blinked, warning visitors of the museum’s impending closure. With a sigh of regret, he lifted Serena’s dress back into place before settling her on the ground.
She reached up and stroked a finger over his mouth. “I love the way you make me feel.”
He closed his eyes, breathed in the intoxicating scent of her. He wanted to pour his heart out, to tell her of the riot of feelings bouncing around inside of him. But it wasn’t the time and some vulnerable part of him he had thought long dead shied away from telling her too much, too soon. He settled for a flip, “I love the way you feel too,” and leaned down to kiss her again.
“Sssh.” She put a hand to his mouth. “Do you hear something?”
He listened for a moment and a huge grin split his face. The staccato tap of heels echoed in the room, as heels clicked on the hallway leading to the erotic photo exhibit. “Someone’s coming.”
“Shit!” Serena tried frantically to make herself presentable, shoving her breasts back into her dress as fast as possible. Kevin laughed, but moved to shield her with his body even as he buttoned and zipped his own pants.
“Not so collected now, are you?” he teased as she shoved her fingers through her well-tousled hair.
“Shut up,” she answered with narrowed eyes. “Or this will be the last time I surprise you.”
That wiped the grin off his face, she noted with satisfaction. Taking a deep breath—something she seemed to be doing a lot of lately—she turned to face the docent headed their way, a serene smile firmly in place.
“We were just leaving,” she called out, grabbing Kevin’s Armani-clad arm and pulling him toward the front of the exhibit.
“Wonderful,” said the woman as she ushered them out. “Did you enjoy it?”
Kevin glanced at Serena, a mischievous smile lighting his face. “Did we, cher?”
“Oh, absolutely,” she answered, stepping on Kevin’s foot as she moved in front of him. “It was fabulous.”
“I’m so glad. I just wish you had had more time. Normally, we’re not sticklers on the closing time, but I’ve got tickets to a fabulous exhibit opening over at the Museum of Art tonight. I’m very excited.”
“The Kevin Riley exhibit?” Serena asked, ignoring Kevin’s sudden grip on her arm.
“That’s the one. He’s simply brilliant, isn’t he? Though I hear he’s a bit of a recluse.”
“Brilliant,” Serena echoed, tongue-in-cheek. “But a recluse? Not at all. In fact—”
“In fact, we’re going to the same place ourselves,” Kevin quickly interrupted. “Maybe we’ll see you there?”
The woman looked startled. “That would be splendid.” She leaned in closer. “But do you mind if I ask how you got the tickets? I had to pull in every favor I’ve ever given anyone just to get one.”
“Oh, that’s easy,” said Serena, jerking her head toward Kevin. “He knows the artist.” And with a wink for Kevin, she headed jauntily down the stairs.
Chapter Ten
Groaning with frustration, Serena studied the long, hard surface of the building. She wanted a background shot for the book—maybe—of where Kevin’s newest private sculpture was being installed. But she couldn’t get the shot right.
She lowered her camera and studied the imposing steel and glass structure in front of her. The Matthias Building was one of the most beautifully designed modern buildings in the United States—nearly as recognizable as the Empire State Building or the Sears Tower. She wanted
to capture that legacy, along with the admiration and awe the powerful lines of the building inspired.
She’d deliberately waited until this time of day, when the sun was at its highest, because she wanted the dramatic contrast of the building with its shadow. No ordinary picture for this extraordinary structure—she hoped to use the darkness of the shadows to highlight the shocking architecture of this icelike palace.
But she’d been through three rolls of film and she hadn’t gotten what she wanted. No matter what angle she tried or what position she contorted her body into, she couldn’t get it exactly right. There was no tingle of awareness, no shiver along her spine telling her that she’d taken the “perfect” picture. Like Kevin with his sculptures, she instinctively knew when a picture was right—even before she’d developed it.
With a weary sigh, Serena sank cross-legged onto a street-side bench, pushing her sweat-soaked hair out of her eyes. San Diego was known for its mild weather and ten months a year the reputation was well-deserved. But the end of August and beginning of September were brutal. Not Louisiana brutal, but not particularly comfortable for anyone lugging camera equipment around under the hot sun for two hours either. She was tempted to forget the image in her head and go back into the air-conditioned building. Kevin would be in the middle of installing his truly magnificent sculpture, his truly magnificent body twisted into any number of attractive contortions as he built, nailed, or hammered it into place.
A pleasant ache started between her thighs as she imagined Kevin bent over with his incredible ass in the air. What would he do if she walked up and squeezed it before moving on to even more interesting body parts?
Probably bite her hand off. While he was usually more than willing to let her touch him any way and anytime she wanted, Kevin had a tendency to be downright prickly where his work was involved. Unless you counted museum openings as part of his work.
Her eyes drifted shut as she remembered just how many times she had come the night before. While the photography museum had been truly inspired—and she was taking full credit for that—Kevin had more than matched her in creativity and enthusiasm.