“Oh, fuck, Anya. You have no idea how much this is turning me on.”
She twisted her neck around to catch sight of his face. She was looking through hazy, lust-ridden eyes, and everything had taken on a dreamy quality, but there was no mistaking the dark, hooded expression of desire on Eric’s features.
But Anya couldn’t think about that now. She needed to come, and she couldn’t hold off any longer. Not caring what she looked like, she dropped her chest down so she was supported on one arm, her forearm flat against the floor. She reached beneath her body, between her thighs. Her fingers slid through the blonde curls and settled on her clit. A cry of relief escaped her lips. Her clitoris had never been so sensitized before, and she used two fingers to rub fast circles while Eric continued to finger-fuck her ass.
Her orgasm exploded over her, washing in powerful waves that began at her core and spread out to encompass her whole body. Her pussy and ass worked together, clenching tight against Eric’s fingers as she came.
When she finally stilled, Eric slipped his hand from her body.
She slumped to the floor, still on all fours and huddled in on herself. Unable to move, she just lay there, panting.
“Are you okay?” Eric asked her.
She managed a small laugh and turned her face to him. “That was intense.” She realized something, “but you didn’t get to take any photographs.”
“Not a problem.” He smiled conspiratorially, as if this had all been planned. It occurred to her that it probably had. “You’re ready for the plug now. Then I’ll get my pictures.”
“Just give me a minute, okay?”
“Of course.”
Getting to her feet, her legs trembling, she went to the bathroom to freshen up. Using a flannel she found beside the tub, she wiped the moisture from her body. She splashed a little water on her face, hoping to tamp down the red flush that was high in her cheeks and across her chest. She wiped at the dark marks beneath her eyes where her mascara had smudged. She’d thought to grab her purse on the way into the bathroom, and so used a little of the powder she’d brought with her. Yes, she’d just had an amazing orgasm, but she was still aware she was about to be photographed.
Chapter Eight
Anya
Anya left the bathroom, still wearing nothing but her heels. She dropped the purse. Eric had poured her another glass of wine, and she took it gratefully, though she’d have preferred water to quench her thirst. Still, the wine was delicious, and she wasn’t complaining. Eric had replaced the sheets of white paper on the floor and now stood at his tripod, making adjustments to his camera. He glanced at her over the camera, his eyes trailing up and down her naked body.
“You’re killing me, Anya,” he said. “You can’t just stand there, all flushed, naked apart from a set of heels, drinking a glass of wine, and not expect me to want to bend you over that couch and take you here and now.”
His words sent a thrill through her. “Eric, your photographs ...?”
He seemed to have to tear his eyes from her. “I know. You’re just too distracting.”
“Get the pictures taken,” she said, feeling brazen. “Then I’ll let you fuck me.”
“This is going to be the quickest shoot in the history of photography.”
Without needing to be told, Anya put down her glass, crossed back to his studio area, and got down on her hands and knees again.
“This will be easier now,” he said, producing the plug again. It looked big, but the thick end probably wasn’t much thicker than Eric’s two fingers. He was right; she did feel more relaxed about it now. He’d already shown her that she could do it.
He applied more lubricant, and then placed the slender tip of the plug against her anus. It was unbelievably cold, and she said so.
“Sorry, I thought having it in my pocket would warm it up a bit.”
“Don’t worry, just keep going.”
He applied pressure and the tip of the plug slipped inside her ass. She was already loose for him, but her muscles still instinctively tightened at the intrusion.
“It’s okay,” he told her, obviously having sensed her tensing up. “We’ll take this slowly.”
The plug slid inside her, another fraction of an inch, then a little more. She was aware of her muscles working both with and against him, pulling the item inside her while contracting to prevent entry. The effect was strange, completely different from having Eric’s supple, warm fingers inside her.
He straightened, his hands leaving her body. “There. It’s fully in.”
Eric stood and grabbed his camera. He gave her instructions, though just being under his scrutiny was enough to let Anya know how to move for him. “Arch your back a little more,” he told her. “Yes, that’s beautiful.”
With each stretch of her limbs or elongation of her back, she paused just long enough for him to snap some images, before she moved to the next pose. Having the plug in her ass gave her something else to think about. She wanted to display the toy to the best of her ability, but was also hyper-aware of the possibility of it slipping out. And as she moved, her arousal built once more.
“Will you fuck me like this?” she asked him.
He didn’t even need to respond. He dropped to his knees beside her, his arm snaking around her back to pull her up onto her knees as well. His hand slid up, lacing in her hair, and his lips found hers. She relished the kiss, his tongue gentle yet firm as it explored her mouth. She’d expected him to be fierce and desperate—she’d already had one orgasm, but he’d been kept waiting—but instead he was slow and gentle with her.
Carefully, he reclined her onto the white sheets beneath them. She found herself having to clench her muscles to prevent the plug slipping from her body. She stretched back, her arms palm up either side of her head, her breasts jutting upward and heaving as she breathed. Her eyes stayed focused on Eric’s face, but his gaze roamed up and down her body. He spread her legs, his palms pressed gently on the inside of her thighs, opening her to him. Her feet were flat on the floor, her knees bent.
Eric stood, leaving her in that position, and began to unbutton his shirt. There was no sign of teasing on his face, the seriousness of his expression making her heart race. Slowly, he unbuttoned his shirt, revealing his toned, gym-hard torso beneath. He shucked the material from his shoulder and dropped it to the ground behind him. Next went his belt, flicking the buckle open and yanking the length from the belt loops. For a moment, he hesitated, and she wondered what thoughts had come into his head—whipping her bottom with the leather, perhaps, or tying her hands above her head. But he did neither, perhaps storing the idea away for another time, and simply let the belt join the discarded shirt. He kicked off his shoes and began to work on his pants. She could see the bulge beneath his fly, the long length she knew would be inside her soon. It was everything she could do to stop herself trembling in anticipation. Everything was heightened from the plug in her ass, and she wanted him so badly she thought she might explode with it.
Eric seemed to sense her urgency, and did everything too slow to tease her, to continue building her so when she finally did find release, she might lose her mind.
He popped the button of his fly and pulled down the zipper. His erection sprang free, long and hard and thick. She stared, panting with want, desperate to touch him. But instead Eric’s hand circled around his cock, massaging up and down, his big palm stroking the smooth, purple head, his thumb flicking over the drop of pre-cum to lubricate his own way. She stared as he masturbated himself, his eyes locked on the secret spot between her thighs.
This is the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.
He let the pants fall from his hips and stepped out of them. Then he knelt between her spread thighs, his lower lip slack with desire as he took in the sight of her slick pussy and the head of the plug stopping her anus just below.
He bent down, placing his mouth to her pussy and giving her slit a couple of long, slow licks.
She whimpered. “Just
take me Eric. I need you.”
He straightened, lifting his body above hers, positioned his cock at her entrance, and gently pushed.
She felt the resistance of having her ass filled with the plug, while his erection pushed firm but unforgiving into her pussy. Eric’s face twisted in pleasure, his breath ragged. She was so wet, it should have eased his passage, but even though the plug was relatively small, she’d never been so full. She forced herself to slow her breathing, relaxing her muscles further, and then Eric gave another push and he was deep inside.
“Oh, God,” he breathed. His eyes were shut, but then flicked open to focus on her face. “Does this feel all right?”
“It feels fucking amazing.”
And it did. She’d never been so full in her life. He began to move, sliding in and out of her, his balls slapping against the head of the butt plug, causing fresh sensations of pleasure to build inside her. She didn’t think she could take much more, lifting her hips to thrust against him. She raised her feet from the floor and hooked her heels onto his shoulders so his thrusts were as deep as they could be. Then he reached beneath her, his fingers finding the plug, and he applied more pressure, pushing it deeper where it had begun to slide out. Her orgasm broke, washing over her in waves of excruciating pleasure. Her head spun with its force. And Eric exploded inside her, slamming into her as he yelled out, thrusting again and again and again.
They held together, panting, until their breathing returned to normal. Eric slid from her body, deftly removing the plug as he did so, and using some of the paper they’d been lying on to clean themselves up.
“Don’t go home tonight, Anya,” he said, pulling her into his arms. “Stay here with me.”
She twisted to face him, their bodies pressed together, content and sated. “But I don’t have a change of clothes. I can’t go to campus in the morning wearing a little black dress. What will I look like?”
“I’ll buy you new clothes first thing. Whatever you want.”
“You’re crazy.”
“You’ve made me that way.”
A dark shadow fell over his words. He had once danced on the periphery of madness. She only knew what she did from the things he’d revealed during magazine interviews, and then, of course, the few things he’d mentioned to her.
She pushed her thoughts from her mind and snuggled down into his arms. What he’d gone through in the past didn’t matter.
All that mattered was the here and now.
***
Anya woke to find herself alone. Sitting up in bed, she ran a hand through her messy hair, and looked around for any clue as to where Eric might have gone. On the end of the bed was a bag from Calvin Klein. She got to her knees and reached down to fish it up toward her. A note was pinned to the top:
Sorry, had to get to the gym. Didn’t want to wake you. Promised you new clothes – hope you like them. Make yourself at home. Hope to see you later???
E.
He’d left.
Her stomach dipped in disappointment. It wasn’t as if he’d gone to a business meeting or anything. How could a workout beat a morning with her? But then she remembered how she’d told him she needed to be back on campus that morning. Hopefully that was the reason he’d gone, thinking she had class. She did, but not until mid-morning.
Curious, she pulled the clothes from the bag. A simple pair of dark blue, boot-cut jeans, and a white, fitted t-shirt. Being a man, he hadn’t considered that her underwear was black and so would show through the t-shirt. But then she saw another bag, La Perla, and pulled out a gorgeous but simple t-shirt bra and matching panties. He had thought of everything. Except the shoes, but she could get away with walking in heels.
She quickly showered and dressed, then caught a cab across town to campus. She needed her laptop and books, and her feet were killing her. She longed for a pair of sneakers.
The cab pulled up outside, and she paid the driver, feeling curious eyes glancing her way. Most of the students couldn’t afford to get cabs, and if they did they were saved for a Saturday night, not a Wednesday morning. Her heels sank into the grass as she cut across campus, trying to save a few minutes. A wolf whistle cut through the general bustle of the students. Instinctively, her head turned to source the sound, but as soon as she saw who it had come from, she whipped her head back around again, trying to pretend she hadn’t noticed.
“Where are you going in those shoes, Anya?” Gavin called out. “You look like you should be a stripper. In fact, is that where you were last night? We missed you at the party.”
“Get lost,” she muttered.
He hurried the last few steps and then grabbed her arm, pulling her to a stop. “So what’s with you never showing at our parties, huh? Did you have somewhere better to be?”
She shook him off. “Unsurprisingly, Gavin, yes, I did.”
His top lip lifted in a snarl. “You need to stop acting like you’re better than everyone else.”
She couldn’t help herself, forcing a snarl of her own. “Maybe it isn’t an act.”
“God, you’re such a bitch.”
She put her head down, her heart hammering, and kept walking. She needed to ignore jerks like Gavin. He was the sort of guy who expected women to throw themselves at him, and if they didn’t, he took it as a personal insult. She didn’t know why he’d focused on her in particular, but she just wanted to stay off his radar.
Unfortunately, Gavin didn’t seem to have the same opinion, his words chasing her as she walked. “Just remember karma’s a bitch, bitch.”
Chapter Nine
Anya
Anya sat through her classes, one eye on the clock, the other on her cell phone. She wanted to send Eric a message, but didn’t want to appear needy. Finally, the phone vibrated in her purse and she snatched it eagerly, holding the screen below the level of her seat so her lecturer wouldn’t notice.
Sorry I couldn’t stay this morning. Hope you liked the clothes. Same time tonight?
She hugged herself in excitement. The memory of his touch on her skin stayed with her, her body aching in that pleasurable way that reminded her of all the things they’d done the previous night. She found her mind constantly filled with Eric, the scent of him, the way he looked at her, the way he made her feel as though they were the only two people in the world. It was hard to believe they’d only known each other for a week now. How had she filled her time before he’d entered her life?
Later that day, as afternoon turned to evening, Anya made her way back to Eric’s apartment. She was surprised to find him standing outside on the sidewalk, his hands shoved into the pockets of a smart suit, giving a casual look to the outfit. His eyes scanned the street, and as soon as he saw her, he straightened, a smile breaking on his face. Unable to help herself, she smiled back, a reflex as natural as anything they’d done.
“What are you doing out here?” she asked as she approached.
“Waiting for you.”
“Did someone throw you out of your own place?” she teased. She’d rarely seen him outside of his apartment.
He laughed. “No, but I figured it was about time I threw myself out. As much as I want to keep your beauty all to myself, I thought you deserved to be wined and dined.”
A little ball of happiness swelled inside her. “You mean we’re going out to dinner? Why didn’t you tell me? I’d have dressed up a little.”
He glanced down at her outfit—a knee length leather skirt, soft cream sweater, and heels. “You look beautiful just as you are.”
She glowed with pleasure, glancing down at the sidewalk. “Thank you.”
He held his hand out to her, and she took it. They walked down the main road, and then turned off onto a side street. Up ahead, a couple of small tables were positioned on the narrow sidewalk, an old fashioned canopy protruding from the restaurant. A couple sat, sipping coffee and reading—the man a newspaper, the woman a paperback—not speaking to one another.
Eric pushed open the door, and, above th
eir heads, a bell tinkled. The restaurant was tiny, only about ten tables, none seating more than four people. It was still early, so only a couple were taken, but the air was redolent with the scent of garlic, tomatoes, and some kind of spice. A waiter in his late fifties caught sight of them entering. He bustled from around the counter, his stomach straining at the small white apron he had tied around his middle, and opening his arms in greeting. “Mr. Rutherford! You came back to see me.”
Eric laughed and Anya glanced up at him, enjoying the sound and the recognition in Eric’s face. “No offence, Mateo, but I didn’t exactly come here to see you. It’s your pasta I’m here for.”
He waved a hand. “No offended, no offended. And you bring beautiful lady. What more could I ask? Come, sit. Sit!”
He guided them to the table in the window, pulling the chair out for Anya, before placing a couple of menus in front of them. “I can get you drinks?”
“Yes, please.” Eric looked up at her. “White wine okay? Or would you prefer something else?”
She smiled. “White wine sounds lovely. Thank you.”
He ordered, and they both studied the menu.
“This is wonderful,” she said. “Do you come here often?”
He smiled at her. “Is that a pick up line?”
She grinned back. “Why, do I need one?”
They stared at each other, caught in a moment. It became too intense, and Anya glanced away, her cheeks heated.
Eric cleared his throat. “In answer to your question, yes, I do, though more often than not I get Mateo to deliver.”
“The waiter?”
“No ... Well, yes. He’s the waiter but he’s also the owner. His food is wonderful, but I don’t take much time to sit and eat out very often. I’m normally too busy with work.”
She was pleased he’d taken the time out for her.
“So what do you recommend?”
“I guess ‘all of it’ wouldn’t be much help?” He glanced back down at the menu. “I love anything with seafood. The calamari and chili is amazing and goes perfectly with the wine.”
Dirty Shots Page 6