by Zoey Long
“Here, let’s get under the covers,” Adam turns his bed down and I get under the fluffy blanket, still shivering. He covers me with his warm body, the sound of the rain beating against the windows. I rock my pelvis into his, back and forth, both of us still in our underwear. He turns me on my stomach, covers every inch of my back with kisses, his lips and his tongue moving against my skin. He pulls my panties down off my hips and I lift up to meet his hands to let the panties slide down all the way to my calves before he takes them off completely. I roll back over to face him, flat on my back. He cups my breasts in his hands, both at once before kissing my torso and moving down to my upper thighs. I take fistfuls of his blond hair in my hands, moving with him as he moves down between my legs, kissing me there, then with more focused movements with his mouth and tongue. I close my eyes, focusing on the feeling of his tongue on me, still holding onto his hair in my hands, using it to steer him where I need him to go. I hold him steady even as my legs start to shake. I let go of his hair, intertwining my fingers with his, holding onto his hand as I come, squeezing it hard and burying my face in the pillow. He comes up from between my legs, and I’m still panting as I wrap my legs around him, guide his hard cock into my wet pussy, still sensitive from coming in his mouth. He slips in easily and lets out a deep moan, thrusting into me, his shoulders warm against my forearms as I pull him ever closer.
I groan loudly from the pleasure of being filled, scratching my fingers into his back. My pussy is so warm that little shocks of pleasure are shooting from my clit. I’m clenching tightly around his cock and he pounds into me so hard the bed frame is slamming into the wall.
His body becomes rigid, we’re both sweating, and suddenly he pulls me up so I’m straddling his lap, my legs wrapped around his waist. The covers fall away, and I lean back as he holds my hips, still thrusting deep inside me, my breasts bare and perking to the ceiling, sweat making my skin stick. He drags his palm down my bare chest and I feel like a goddess, rocking up and down on his hard cock, my hair spilling down toward the bed. I come back up, pull him into me, and his thrusts become harder and faster, I press my lips down in between his neck and shoulder. He lets out a deep moan and I know he’s coming, his thrusts so deep that there’s no space between us. We come down together, arms and legs entwined, fighting to catch our breaths. I feel a tear fall down my cheek and close my eyes, his hands running through my hair again as we hold each other in that position.
Chapter 18: Adam
“So what if you just didn’t go back?”
Carrie is naked next to me in my bed, we’ve just made love. She looks so good under my sheets I can’t get over it. She’s twirling her hair in her fingers, and I wonder if I’ll ever look at her without seeing everything she does as an opportunity for a photo.
“What do you mean, not go back ever?” I ask her.
She bolts up in bed, holding the sheet around her chest. “Yeah. The semester is almost over anyway, you’re on a leave of absence. What about your freelance work? You’re seriously talented, Adam. I’m not just saying that.”
“I wanted to ask you about that, actually.”
This piques her interest. She looks at me with those soulful green eyes, smirking at me the way she does when she knows I’m up to something. “Would you want to have dinner with my friend Lana tonight?”
She furrows her brow and says sure, but she’s unsure why I would ask this.
“Well, first, she’s my best friend. Second, she’s my business associate and she has some new marketing ideas for the photography venture. I want you to be the spokesmodel for the whole thing.”
“Does she know about us?” Carrie asks excitedly. “I would love to help you, that would give me a lot of exposure as an actress, and as the semester is nearly over, I could devote myself to this all summer.”
“That was my thinking, actually. You’re about to have a lot more free time. And yes, she does.”
I spent quite a bit of time trying to convince Lana that Carrie and I are for real. Maybe if she sees it with her own eyes…
We meet Lana that night at an Indian restaurant down the block from my apartment. Carrie is wearing an olive green pinup dress I loaned her from my costume closet, her hair done up in voluminous victory rolls. She sat at the makeup chair and put on eyeliner, a severe cat eye and red lips. She looks like a model. We’re holding hands across the table and sharing an appetizer of bhel puri, puffed rice with vegetables and tamarind sauce. I’ve never had it before.
“I love this stuff,” Carrie says, crunching on a mouthful. “Michelle introduced me to it. I don’t know why it’s so good.”
“It’s tasty,” I agree.
Lana makes her way to our table wearing a houndstooth print blouse and a skirt. Her black glossy hair is tied back in a ponytail, blunt bangs across her forehead. When she sees Carrie, there’s a knowing look on her face.
“You must be Carrie,” she says, extending her hand. Carrie stands up, smoothes down the front of her dress, and the two women shake hands. Lana kisses me on the cheek platonically.
“Well, you’re certainly gorgeous,” Lana says with a big smile.
“Thank you very much. I love your outfit,” Carrie responds. “All the clothes at Adam’s place are amazing. I love what you two do together, the pictures you’re able to capture are really incredible. So important for women.”
We hold hands again and Lana takes notice, smiling in my direction. We order beers and Lana pours hers perfectly into a tall glass, not spilling a drop.
“Bhel puri, Adam, I never thought I’d see the day,” Lana jokes.
Carrie pipes up, laughing. “He doesn’t eat very adventurously, does he?”
“Not at all! We have to change that.”
“This stuff is tasty,” I say again, crunching a mouthful. The two most important women in my life fill the room with laughter at my expense.
“You could easily be the spokesmodel for Own Yourself,” Lana says, swallowing a gulp of beer. Carrie nods.
“For what?” I ask, shooting her a look.
“Own Yourself Photography. That’s the name I came up with.”
“And when were you going to tell me about this?” I ask her, tickled. It’s a good name.
“I’m telling you now,” Lana says, paying me no mind. “So, I think we should roll out a social media campaign with you as the spokesmodel, revamp our website, offer a deal on a set of prints, what do you think?”
Carrie is nodding furiously. “I think it’s a great idea. I can start anytime. The semester ends in just a week, and with Adam not going back to Earnsley, he can devote himself to this full time.”
Lana looks at me. I haven’t had a chance to tell her yet that I’m not returning. At least not until I see through the business idea.
“And what about you, dear? Are you going back?”
Carrie looks at Lana like she has five heads. “To school? Of course I am. I’m on scholarship. I’m not giving up my dream, I need to finish my degree.”
Lana nods. “Good. Just making sure that being in the throes of love hasn’t caused you to both lose hold your senses entirely. I heard it was quite the scandal at Earnsley, between the two of you. For a young actress like yourself, that can’t be easy.”
“Nothing is,” Carrie returns.
Lana smiles broadly. “Isn’t that the truth.”
“Now, I have to use the bathroom. Please excuse me, I’ll be right back.” Carrie smiles and excuses herself from the table, winking at me before turning to click away on her high heels. Lana is finishing her last sip of beer, not looking at me, fully aware that my eyes are burning into her skull.
“Yes?” she asks, smirking impishly, finally looking in my direction.
“Well? Do you believe me now? It’s real, Lan. I wasn’t kidding.”
She turns to look at me, warmth in her eyes. She takes a deep breath. “Of course I can see. Do you think I’m blind? She’s a sweetheart. She’
s young, but I haven’t seen you this happy in years. She’s a goldmine as far as marketing goes, she’ll have a long and lucrative career ahead of her. And I hope it works out for you. I really do.”
I take Lana’s hand in mine and squeeze it. “Thank you. Really. Thank you.”
***
“That is absolutely perfect! Now pop your hip a bit to the right for me and YES!”
Lana and I are shooting our promotional ad with Carrie in my apartment. I have her standing against a red background, in an absolutely to die for black dress, her breasts up and in, the corset I bought her laced tightly underneath.
“Are you sure you don’t think she should wear the red satin?” I tease, asking Lana the same question for the fifth time that morning.
“She looks absolutely incredible. I want to shoot the red dress on the black background in the fall.”
I have no problem with Lana directing this shoot. It’s her first time working with Carrie, and I feel like this is the best way for me to impart to her how special Carrie is. She just had to see it to believe it. I click my shutter feverishly. I know we have the shot already, it just happened, but now I’m just having fun.
Carrie’s eyes sear into my lens, she’s grabbing my heart with her gaze. I could shoot her for the rest of my life and be very happy. I take a few more shots and put the camera down at my side.
“We got it?” Carrie asks, a big smile on her gorgeous face.
“We got it,” I wink at her.
“I’ll leave you two alone for a moment while I go take a look at these raw images.” Lana walks away, her mustard-colored heels clicking against the floor.
Carrie lets her muscles relax, her torso goes back to a regular standing position. Her hair is half up, once again in victory rolls, her eyes are lined with black eyeliner, she has on thick fake eyelashes that make her green eyes look enormous. Her peachy pink skin is so luminescent, she almost doesn’t even look real.
I fill up a glass with ice and water and bring it to her. She takes it from my hands and drinks it eagerly. A drop of water falls down her chin and neck and into her ample cleavage. I have an urge to lick it off.
“We’re working,” she says, raising her impossibly arched brow. “And this makeup is killer. Do you think Lana will do my makeup forever? Like, from now on?” I laugh and kiss her lightly on the lips. She jumps, her lips moving slightly, but I know Lana well enough to know that there’s no way in hell that lip paint will budge an inch. I hold up a mirror to Carrie’s face to prove it.
“See? It’s like shellac.”
Carrie smiles. “Incredible. Absolutely incredible.” She shakes her head in disbelief at her perfectly lined, red, full lips. Not a mark elsewhere.
I can hear Lana getting up from my computer and walking back to us.
“Hey lovebirds,” she shouts. My hands are wrapped around Carrie’s contoured waist, and even though I know I shouldn’t, I lean down and place my lips gently to kiss her powdered cheek. The smell of vanilla warms my nostrils.
“I love you, too,” Carrie whispers.
“I said, Hey lovebirds!” Lana shouts again, she’s holding a laptop steady on her hip. I turn to look at her, my hands still wrapped tightly around Carrie. Carrie’s rib cage starts to shake with bits of laughter.
“We got it? We got the shot?” I ask Lana with anticipation, my eyes wide.
“Oh, we got it. Hell yeah, we did.”
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*Bonus Book*:
Relatively Torn
(A Manhattan Heir Romance)
By Zoey Long
Copyright 2015 © Enamored Ink
Part 1
Chapter 1: Derrick
“Oh, but it’s so good for you.”
The redhead behind the juice bar just passed me a fucking pint glass of green slop. She’s picking up cucumbers and stuffing them in one by one into the machine. Carrots, apples, celery, a lemon. She’s a cute little thing. Rock-hard body, small tits and a big mouth. I start to envision that mouth of hers on my cock as she goes on talking about why I should drink the front lawn.
Grrsshhhhh It’s got vitamins and minerals, it detoxes your body and flushes out toxins, grrssshhhhh, the lemon really adds to the detox, sometimes I add cayenne. It sounds gross but it’s really… grrrrshhhh.
I don’t touch the glass. She turns to grab some protein powder off a high shelf. Pretty nice ass. Nice triceps definition. I can tell she does yoga. She’s got that long and lean thing going on that chicks have when they do a lot of yoga. I tried a class once. I still can’t believe they didn’t charge me a cover to sit right behind some woman on all fours, arching and rounding her back with her ass in the air two feet from my face.
“Just try it, it’s a free promotion,” Ginger says, turning to me and wiping her forehead.
“Do I look like I need a detox?” I ask her, flashing a smile. I’m shirtless, about to go in for a fight. I pumped a little in my home gym before I got here. I watch her eyes go down my body. She’s trying not to stare at my sharply defined six-pack.
“No… you look great. You fight jiujitsu?” She smacks her lips, puts her hair back behind her ear.
“This is a fucking jiujitsu studio—yeah, I fight jiujitsu. What do you think, I do yoga?” I bait her.
She giggles. “Yoga is actually really high intensity. You’re using your own body’s resistance, and over time you start to open up in some really interesting ways. My hips were so tight before I started practicing. Did you know they’re offering yoga here now? I don’t know how that’s gonna go; it’s right next to the fighting mats. I guess they could do vinyasa flow classes. I can’t imagine trying to relax in savasana when that’s happening, though.” She stops.
Yep. Yoga chick. Chatty one, too.
“I’ve seen you here before. I’m Julie.” She smiles.
Nope, as far as I’m concerned, you’re Ginger.
“I’m here every day,” I say to her, taking out my phone.
It’s time to go in for my fight. I take a gulp of her juice and slam it down on the table. “Name’s Derrick.” I point to the glass. “That’s gross.” She laughs.
“You’ll get used to it.” She takes my glass.
Oh, she swallows. Noted.
When I grapple with these guys, we just go in shirtless and attack each other. No jiujitsu robes, no rash guards, just barefoot in shorts. It’s a great workout and winning is all about exploiting the other guy’s mistakes, seeing where his weaknesses are and forcing submission. It hurts like a bitch but it’s more MMA style, which means they can throw any technique at me that they’ve got in their arsenal. Bring it. I can see Ginger watching me as I go over to the mat. If she’s gonna watch, I’ll give her something to see.
The other guy is solid, compactly built, but I have about four inches on him. I haven’t fought him before. I’ll start on my back and do a full guard sweep, which means I throw the son of a bitch over my head and get him on the floor. Then he won’t be able to get up again. He’ll be flailing around like a bug. Trust me.
There’s a few chicks watching us, smiling like it’s Christmas morning. They love to watch two guys fight. Fighting shirtless means you sweat, and your opponent can wiggle out of your grip more easily than if we were in traditional clothes. I don’t give a shit about that, though. I’m way bigger than this guy. He smiles at me as I lie down; he thinks I’m giving him an upper hand. A lot of these guys come in here thinking they can win with no technique, just brute force. I’ve been doing jiujitsu and MMA for a while. I know how to dominate most any fighter I come across.
There’s some other fights going on around us, guys grunting and throwing each other around, mats set up around the gym, but me and Shorty here are front and center. I grab my opponent’s wrist and pull his forearm forward, locking him into me. I torque his head just a little bit to the side, so I can get my other arm under his legs and flip him the fuck over. He slams onto the ma
t, looking stunned. Done. I’ve got him pinned so solidly that I look up and see Ginger wide-eyed and smiling. Shorty’s trying to execute the same move on me now that I just did on him. How original. I don’t think so.
“Do you…? How is anyone supposed to get anything done in here?” someone yells.
He’s kicking his legs wildly like a cockroach. He’s trying to slip out of my grip without any technical skill. He’s kicking me in the shins, the jerk. I’m going to hold him here for as long as it takes for him to tap out. He’s still kicking, his face twisting, trying to throw me off.
“Seriously, this is ridiculous. I can’t believe this place thinks you can hold yoga classes and these jiujitsu fights in the same place.”
Shorty’s not giving up yet, trying to get under my legs and flip me. As long as I have his arms in this vise grip he’s not going anywhere. I hear someone yelling over the pumping music.
“Hello? Who’s in charge of this place?” It’s the same female voice yelling. I’m too focused to pay attention.
Shorty finally taps out. And I look up and see the most gorgeous piece of ass I’ve ever seen in my life standing right in front of me. Pissed.
Chapter 2: Madison
Who the hell is this guy? He’s been holding his opponent on the floor in the same spot for a solid two minutes. The other guy is smaller, but they’re both ripped. Is this even jiujitsu? They’re not wearing any gear. I thought jiujitsu fighters wore a robe?