by Cari Quinn
Never mind the trouble I’d brought into her bed. If this was another piece of that—
No. This was just excitable women. Not something more sinister.
Though that was bad enough. By the time I’d realized how much more I was being scrutinized—and how Zoe’s picture was getting flung all over, and not just to my Instagram followers—it was too late. I’d tried to shield her from pictures during our Monterey show weekend, but the barn door was wide open there already. She’d been aligned with me, and now someone out there wanted her out of the way.
“Hey.” She kneeled in front of me and rubbed my thigh. “Where did you go?”
“We should just run away together.” I said it as a joke, but there was a part of me that was deadly serious. “Just say fuck the world and go off to some little isolated corner that’s ours alone and make mad, passionate love day and night.” I leaned forward and cupped her cheeks, well aware she was reeling from what I’d said. Some joke. “What do you say?”
“I say you’re absolutely crazy. You’ve always wanted this life. And now you’ll just chuck it for the privilege of banging me?” She snorted and tried to ease back, but I dug in and held on.
She went still, her gaze turning sharp.
Not wary. Not afraid. Already she trusted me.
“I wanted music. I wanted to sing. To be heard. I’ve found I don’t need the world to hear me, not if I have one person who does. All I need is that one.” I wetted my lips. “I need you.”
Awareness sparkled between us, as potent as smoke. Thick and deep and drugging.
Almost defiantly, she lifted the camera she still held between us, forcing me back. I let her increase the space, but I didn’t tuck away any of the emotions I knew had to be on my face. If she wanted to study them through the safety of her viewfinder, she could. But she’d see them just the same.
She tilted the camera and pressed the button. And kept pressing it as she climbed on my lap, somehow still taking shot after shot. Then she set her camera aside—carefully, on the plump cushion beside us—and attacked the laces on my shirt, pulling them wide and lowering her mouth to my chest. She made quick work of my leathers, and then she wound her fingers around my cock. She gave it a firm stroke, no teasing whatsoever, and I let out a long, grateful groan.
It wasn’t a declaration of love, but I’d take this. I’d take Zoe any way she’d offer herself to me.
Almost unconsciously, I fumbled for her camera. I’d seen her playing with it enough that I knew what to do. I lifted it slowly, so slowly, as she licked my collarbone and rubbed my cock hard enough to make me bite off an oath. I couldn’t get the camera to my eye to check the view, but I knew the image she made was goddamn amazing. She’d tied her long white-blond hair back in a braid and the purple ends made it look as if the tail had been soaked in paint. Stupidly hot.
I managed to hit the button once before her head snapped up and she nearly broke my dick in half.
“Mind the jewels, love.” I barely managed not to gasp. “I may be a young stud, but an injury like that’ll put a man out of commission.”
“You’re not supposed to be taking pictures of me.” She reached for the camera and I held it out of reach. She shifted on my lap and brought up her knee, and for a second, I thought she might deliver the kill shot right then and there.
Oddly, the thought made me even harder. A masochist, I was.
“Uh-uh-uh.” My admonishment made her snarl. “Turnabout is fair play. You got a few shots for your personal collection, am I right?”
From the stubborn set of her chin, I knew I was.
“Then I’m going to take a few for mine.” I ran my tongue inside my lower lip. “Let me see your beautiful tits.”
She didn’t balk. Even annoyed, she wouldn’t back down from the challenge I’d thrown down.
Though I was really wishing I’d locked that studio door, assuming it was even possible from the inside. Perhaps we should adjourn this until—
Then she unbuttoned her shirt and I decided a little possible exhibitionism was good for the soul.
Good Christ, my woman was sexy.
She had on a simple lace bra that was more for function than style. She was compactly built and perfect, with the hint of dusky pink nipples showing through the lace. I took a picture, then caught my tongue between my teeth as I pulled down the lace cup and one swell popped free. “Your turn,” I murmured, capturing the tight tip with my teeth and handing her the camera. She started to set it aside and I shook my head, growling a little around her nipple. “Take the shot.”
“The angle—” She shifted and reclined backward, bracing her free hand behind herself on my knee. Then she tilted the camera and I drew her nipple to the side, my tongue making it all slippery. The instant the shutter sounded, I sucked it deep inside, barely aware of the shutter snapping again and again.
I didn’t know if she’d get anything from this impromptu session, but I couldn’t worry about it right now. There was just the taut peak against the roof of my mouth, and the soft flesh of her inner thigh as I ran my hand up the inside of her leg. Her cotton pants—boy shorts, she’d called them once—stopped me for a heartbeat before I was sneaking inside the leg, pushing my fingers up to where she was slippery already. And not from my tongue this time.
Not yet.
Without a word, I plucked her up off my lap and set her down on the sofa, smiling up at her as she grasped my neck as if I was going to fling her around the room. Far from it. I planted my arm on her belly and slid down the couch until my face was squarely pressed between her splayed thighs. While I pushed up her skirt and drew off those detestable knickers that blocked her from my view, she continued to take pictures.
Lots and lots of them.
My hair fell forward as I skimmed my teeth over the soft swell of her belly just above her waistband. She pushed my hair back, then slid her fingers along my jawline, making a quiet sound of pleasure when I drew her fingertips between my lips. Somehow she continued to take photos, though she bobbled the camera more than once.
Reluctantly, I let her fingers slide out of my mouth. “Coordinated, aren’t you? Let’s see how long your abilities last, love.”
She peeked over the camera at me and pushed down my head. I laughed soundly until her directional gesture put me right where I’d been aimed. Eyes wide open and on hers, I flicked my tongue against her. Teasingly. Playfully. Sliding down her seam, I did it again and again. Never landing long enough for her to settle in. She kicked out at me, but I retaliated by pushing her legs wider until her skirt was little more than a belt.
Then I feasted.
At first, I heard the clicks. She pushed at my hair, lifting it, still trying to get her shots. I doubled down, letting my eyes slide closed while her sweetness coated my lips and tongue. Not enough. She wasn’t shaking yet.
I gripped her thigh and shoved it up so she could brace her heel on the couch, and the clicks stuttered. One of my fingers circled her clit, as light as air, and I slid my tongue lower, dragging it over her until she stopped arranging my hair and drove her hand in it instead. The clicks ceased and she pushed the camera aside to use her other hand as well, cupping my head to direct me where she needed me most.
But the weeks together had already taught me well. I kept up the pressure on her clit while I slipped a finger inside, then two, licking between them. Tasting her with every breath.
She tried to back up against the couch, to wiggle away. I clamped my arm over her stomach and pinned her down, burying my face between her shaking legs. I didn’t use my fingers now. Just lips and tongue and teeth. Sweeping upward again, I clasped her clit and sucked, closing my eyes again on the music of her moan and the wild shudder of her hips.
Her sounds hadn’t stopped when I rose above her and covered her mouth with my own. She grasped my face in both hands, kissing me back hungrily as she wound her legs around my hips. I thrust against her over and over, nearly tearing through the fabric between us until she
wrenched away with a gasp and shoved her hand into my pants.
She grabbed hold of me and rubbed her thumb over the crown, collecting the wetness there, and withdrew her hand. Rather than licking it off herself, she smeared her thumb over my lower lip before leaning up to draw it between her teeth. Madness glowed in her witchy golden eyes, and I couldn’t stop the growl that left my chest.
She was mine. All mine.
I was halfway down to taste her pussy again when she dragged me back up. “You better fuck me, Kagan, before I have to take care of things myself.”
“Is that so?” I yanked down the other lace cup of her bra so that both breasts spilled free. Nipping one, I cupped the other in my palm. So warm and perfect. “You better get that camera out of the way. I need room to move.”
“That so?” The challenge in her eyes lasted until I gripped her hip and started to hoist her toward the arm of the sofa. She hurried to shift the camera to the floor while I busied myself removing the shirt still hanging off her shoulders and her bra and skirt.
Only fully naked would do.
I made room for myself between her legs and looked down at her, naked and hot and spread open for me. I made a gimme gesture for the camera again and she licked her lips, hesitating for just a fraction of a second before she pressed it into my hands.
Swallowing hard, I made myself ease back and adjust my angle. My dick was harder than the beams that framed the studio, but I wanted this picture. Needed it. I’d blow it up and put it on my fucking ceiling once I had an actual house. With a padlock on the door so no one could see her but me.
Always only me.
“Undo your hair,” I murmured. “Fan it out on the arm of the couch.”
Her lips twisted at my choice of words before she complied. She pushed the hairband on her wrist and worked her fingers through her hair, draping it around her shoulders and behind her. “I’m not used to being on the other end of the lens. Naked to your fully clothed.” She nodded at me, but she didn’t need to remind me. My pants were molded to my skin so tightly, I could scarcely draw a breath.
“You’re beautiful naked. Beautiful always. Lift them for me.” I brushed the back of my hand over her breasts and she slipped her hands beneath them, caging her nipples between her fingers as I retreated behind the camera to capture the moment.
“You’re beautiful naked too. You could give me a show too, you know.” She was breathless, and knowing she was turning herself on by touching her breasts only made me hunger for her more.
I took my pictures, shifting this way and that to get all the angles, making her laugh as I zoomed in close and drew back. Once I was satisfied I’d done my subject justice, I passed the camera back to her and reached behind my head to remove my shirt. Her swift intake of breath did me a world of good, since I was thinner than I’d been in some time.
Starving myself and still had no hope of paying my debts.
And I wasn’t going to think of that now. Not here, with her. She was my only focus.
My world, already.
She held the camera, but she didn’t photograph me. Just studied me with eyes that smoldered as I undid my pants and rose to take them and my boots off.
I couldn’t go for half measures with her. Only skin to skin would do.
It was only then that I realized I didn’t have rubbers with me.
“Bugger me.” I cupped my cock as if holding it could help me think, and that was when she took her picture. I scowled at her and she laughed, hitting the button again and again. “I don’t have any protection with me. There, now, still find that so funny?”
She rose fluidly and walked to her camera bag, pressing her camera into my belly as she passed. I hit the button when she bent, because her ass was particularly fine. I wouldn’t let a moment’s irritation keep me from capturing its heart-shaped perfection.
When she turned toward me and held out a packet with a yellow condom inside, I nearly dropped the camera.
“Banana now, is it? Is it flavored too?”
“No, but that’s an idea for next time. Here, let me sweeten the pot.” Shaking back her hair, she kneeled before me and took my dick in hand.
She rolled the condom on with just enough fumbling that I didn’t have to curse the men in her past in my head. Sexist or not, I liked to pretend we were new to this together.
Her and me. Always.
Then she took the yellow-covered tip between her lips, giving it a gentle suck while I aimed and shot. That picture I’d keep in my wallet. Her hair covered one eye, and she was nearly disguised except for her pale pink lips enveloping me and one slumberous golden eye.
Wordlessly, I drew her up and set the camera on the nearby table. I framed her face in my hands and kissed her until my head spun from lack of oxygen. Until my limbs shook from holding that tensed pose for so long. Until even her dazed laughter tasted like need.
I took her hand and led her to the sofa, pulling her down with me. Shifting us until she was beneath me, her eyes so huge as they found mine. She crossed her arms against the arm of the couch, and I gripped the apex of her wrists. Looming over her so that my cross necklace dangled near her mouth. She reached up to suck it between her lips, and I couldn’t hold back a groan.
“Now,” I whispered.
“Now,” she whispered back at me, my cross still in her mouth. A perfect echo.
I took my cock in hand and lined it up between her legs, rubbing against her swollen seam. She yanked on the chain and it fell away between our mouths as we kissed. I drew on her lower lip, sinking in my teeth at the moment I pressed into her.
Every time, it was brand new. Sliding into her and feeling her open for me, taking me in so deep. No hesitation. Her legs came up to wind around me, linking at the small of my back, and I rose above her, still holding her wrists, using that grip to pull back and drive forward again. She arched beneath me, her beautiful breasts straining, quivering, and I cupped her chin in my free hand to keep her eyes on me.
I needed that link more than I needed air.
She rocked against me, tightening, squeezing, bowing into my strokes so that it felt like we were moving as one. Better than one. I felt whole with her in a way I’d never been on my own. Had never imagined such could be possible. Not just because of the rush of heat inside me, warning me I wouldn’t last.
Couldn’t last when I was drowning in those golden eyes trained on mine.
She gave me so much more than her body. She accepted me as I was. Flawed, broken, barely hanging on. With her, I was different. Stronger. More than anything, I wanted to be the man I saw reflected through the warmth in her eyes.
I stroked into her over and over, losing myself in the motion of her opening up to receive me. Her legs wrapping so tight as she tilted up to take me deep and deeper still. Angling to find some new spot to make her fist around me.
Sweat blurred into my eyes and she turned her head to kiss the frayed skin on my inner arm. I’d forgotten myself and left off the bandage and there it was, exposed for anyone to see.
For her to see.
Eyes closed, she kissed the circle of uneven skin until I couldn’t keep my hips from slamming forward. Her pussy clamped around me and she made a strangled sound just before her body broke around mine.
Shattering her and me both.
I let out a shout as I drained into her, still holding her wrists, trying like hell to keep from pressing her into the couch with my weight.
When I could move again, I released her wrists to scoop her up in my arms and shift us until she was on top. I was about to drive into her again when she dropped her damp forehead to mine. “Condom.”
I wanted to rip it off and pound into her raw again. But I hadn’t earned that right. We’d slipped up that once and nothing had felt as exquisite as her body clasping mine. I didn’t deserve that bit of perfection again. Not until all our secrets were on the table. It didn’t make sense that I equated skipping a rubber with revealing everything I was holding back, but it
was one more barrier between us.
For her safety, it needed to stay. All the walls did.
“Young stud. Who needs recovery time?” She reached up to comb through my hair, drawing her fingers through it from the roots to the ends.
“With you, there’s no such thing. I’d spend my life fucking you if you’d let me. That could be my official job title—Zoe Manning’s fuck boy. And I’d die happy.”
“I’ll keep you as my rocker boy, thanks.” But she grinned just the same.
I turned my face into her palm and she kept right on combing through my tangled hair with her other hand, soothing me as our heartbeats slowly returned to normal and our bodies cooled.
As much as I hated leaving her to deal with the rubber, I loved coming back to wrap myself in her. She curled around me so trustingly now, laying her head on my chest as her eyelids grew heavy.
It was late, far too late for us to still be in the studio, but I didn’t want to get dressed and drive to her place. I wanted to fall asleep with her weight on top of me and her coconut-scented hair against my mouth.
Luckily, there was a postage-stamp-sized throw on the back of the couch. It had probably been put there for an artistic touch, since it barely did the job as coverage of any sort. If Zoe hadn’t been so tiny, it probably wouldn’t have even covered her pert little ass.
“I should go,” she mumbled, tucking her nose against my throat. “You have work.”
“My work is this.” When she drowsily opened her eyes and frowned at me, I laughed. “I don’t mean being with you is work. I mean, nothing else is as important as this.”
“But your song you were working on…” She trailed off and yawned. “Sorry. Wore me out.”
“You can help me with it.”
“I can?” She was already settling her head against my chest again.
Shutting my eyes, I started to sing the song I’d been working on with the help of the others. In my head, I called it “Sinner,” but it didn’t have an official title yet.
The lyrics rumbled out of my chest, my delivery halting. They weren’t quite there yet. But soon enough, I realized she wouldn’t be judging my ability.