Sex Sessions: After The Cut (Camera Tales #2)

by Charisse Spiers

  I paint my lips, slowly and carefully to avoid smudging, hoping for the best. My tongue swipes over my top teeth as I toss the lipstick back in my bag. I add some mascara for a little effect to make my face pop, and then brush through my curls from last night, leaving it in a state of long, beach-kissed waves.

  I walk to my suitcase and dig through it, my hands settling on the black, patent leather stilettos I'm looking for. I knew there would be a time for these. I grab them by the silver heels and put them on. My heart begins to race. Last thing. The back zipper to my suitcase is already unzipped from me removing things all week. The new perfume I ordered a while ago is still sitting in the original box. I remove it and take the top off, before holding it up to my nose to sample. It smells just as good as it did when I passed by someone not much older than me wearing it, so I shamelessly stopped a stranger and asked her what it was.

  I spritz it twice: once on the neck and once on the wrist, before touching my wrists together for transfer. "You can do this," I whisper. "Be everything he wants you to be. Be everything you can be. Just be you."

  It's a scary thing: becoming a woman. You're at that bridge between the little girl you've always been and the woman you'll forever be. It's intimidating. There will always be others out there that do it better than you. There will always be men that want sexuality. Last but not least, there will always be a self-conscious backdrop that makes you second guess if he likes it.

  To gain your wings of sex appeal is something every girl wants, and a skill she wants to master, but there really is no right or wrong way to obtain it. You never know if you're good at it. It's something I would assume could be self-taught or taught by others you trust. There is no instruction manual. It's a perceptive thing.

  But with all that I am I want to be a confident woman. I never want to worry. I want to know that no matter what I’m good enough to be his only. I want to be the one that completes him and his every need. I want to be the woman he'll never forget if I'm gone. So I will be. I may start slow, but I will grow, and over time I'll be exactly the woman I want to be.

  I grab my phone, fully ready, and turn on the video feature within the camera. Recording begins immediately after pressing the button and I start to speak into the screen with the front facing camera on. "Hey guys. It's Kambry. So, today it's my birthday, in case you didn't know, and Saxton has really outdone himself. See this?"

  I rotate the camera and scan the contents of the room: balloons, petals and all, and then end on the small puppy sleeping in the corner, before putting the camera back on me. "Epic birthday, right? I thought so. With every good man stands a good woman, so rewards are equal."

  I record the length of my naked body, all the way to my heels, capturing the full view as much as I can, before speaking into it once again. "This is what he gets in return. The code to opening every woman is balance: a little arrogance, some romance, and a lot of lovin'. He made me swoon, so he gets to see me in my birthday suit. Stick around for part two. Coming soon."

  I stop recording and ready the video for posting in Tumblr. Once imported, I quickly type out a posting.

  #HubbyToBe is #swooning me. Just when I think it can't get any better, I wake up to this . . . on my #birthday! Be jealous. Love life. Cherish each other. #Love in any form is better than none. #RomanceGetsDicksSucked —XOXO, Kam. #SexSessions #Afterthecut #Pornstarlove #BirthdaySuit #LipstickKisses #PerfumeEssence #HesGettingLaid #NewYorkRendevous #PuppyLove #BirthdaySex Stay tuned for #parttwo #WeddingDay #ComingSoon

  Click here to view post.

  I post it and drop my phone on the bed, before making my way to the door. I stop, trying to gather myself. My nerves are trying to get the best of me. This is pre wedding night practice. I'm not an amateur anymore. I need to get better at this surprise thing. But that's what is hard. Every time I look at him, my words evade me, and I feel like I'm starting back at level one.

  Saxton

  I flip through the TV guide for the fifth time. Breakfast is made, I've already had three cups of coffee—in which has me shaking like a junkie without his fix—and my anxiety has long before shot through the roof. What the hell is taking her so long? I know she's awake. I heard her scream when she got the puppy, and I heard her on the phone.

  There is nothing left to be done. This was all I had in me within the romance department. I figured she needed and deserved to be stunned, so when planning today I gave it all I got, holding nothing back. The suspense is going to fucking kill me. I know it. What if she hates dogs? I never thought of that. Then I'm going to be stuck with finding a thirteen-hundred-dollar dog a home. All of the research I did when I could sneak a few seconds away from her said Labs were the way to go, so that's what I did with Tynleigh's help. I heard her scream, and I think it was a good one; think being the key word.

  Most people have no damn idea how hard it is to not eavesdrop on your girlfriend's conversation, but I've been up for hours and she doesn't seem to be coming out anytime soon. I've gone to the door more times than I want to admit to, touched it with my fingers to open it, and then backed away to give her some space. The softhearted boyfriend, nice-boy act is starting to turn to shit.

  I toss the remote on the couch and stand, starting to pace. I walk to the window and place my palms on the frame, looking out over New York. "Why are you so nervous?" I mumble, frustrated. "Fuck."

  I slap my face to get ahold of myself. "This is not your first time on a horse."

  "You wanted me to find you, and so here I am."

  "Happy birth—" I turn around at the sound of her voice, only for my fucking eyes to fall out of my head. Oh, holy hell. Thank you, God. I need this vision burned into my mind. I want it seared on my eyeballs. I want to wear it like branding.

  I can envision those plump red lips going down on me, leaving lipstick kisses on my body as she does. It complements her light blonde hair and barely tanned skin well. My eyes skim slowly down her body, stopping on the six-inch heels that will soon be pointing at the ceiling instead of the ground.

  Her hands move to her hips and she inches one leg out to the side. "You going to come take what's being offered to you or stand there with drool running from your mouth?"

  My hand reaches into my pocket and I remove my phone. "Don't move."

  A slight smirk appears, puckering her lips a little, making the picture even better. I snap the photo. There are only a few moments in a person's life that are worthy of reminding you they exist on a constant, daily basis. This is one. It should never be forgotten and it should never be blurred from time passing by. I need to remember those fuck me eyes and kissable lips forever. I want the memory to encompass me like a second skin. Because in this very moment the female in front of me is no longer the quirky girl I met in the club. She's not the shy girl with an unknown road ahead that I got to know in her apartment. She's not the sassy, lovable, pure-hearted and sometimes-immature girl I've fallen in love with. The little girl has vanished forever. What stands before me is a confident, happy, woman in love. And she looks that way because she's mine. That's a memory worth remembering.

  My phone goes back into my pocket where it came from. That one's getting blown up in black and white with her lips staying red. Color pop at its finest. I'm framing it and putting it over our bed, and I'm sharing it with no one. It belongs in the vault of our lives, so that's where it'll stay.

  She walks toward me, slowly, her heels tapping against the hardwood floor. She grabs in exactly the right place as she stops in front of me, tightening the fabric of my cargo shorts around my dick. I flinch. Any man would when something comes at his manhood in a quick motion. "I see someone is happy to see me."

  "You're naked," I state honestly.

  "Yes, but you're extra hard this morning compared to what you normally are at first glance. Tell me," she says in the hottest damn voice I've ever heard. It's laced with sex, enhanced with lust, and wrapped with confidence. "Is it because you're picturing me in this position?"

  She drop
s to her knees slowly, placing her hands on my bare sides. She looks up at me. Her lips are forming a path for a Blow Pop. Blow . . . Damn. My heart is pounding in my chest. I'm starting to get dizzy. I can hear my pulse loud in my ears.

  She kisses my happy trail as her hands clamp around the front waist of my khakis. She pops the button through the slit, and then lowers the zipper at a snail's pace. "Or is it because you want my fat red lips wrapped around your cock for the world to watch?"

  I fight the urge to wrap my hand in her hair. She seems to have a lock on what she wants right now, and I'm not about to stop it. When her lips close, she reminds me just how fucking full her lips really are; not that I've forgotten. "You know me so well."

  She smiles, giving me the first glance of her bright white teeth. As she does, she reaches into the same pocket I was previously fishing and pulls out my phone again. "Then you'll need this."

  My insides quiver, but my body is smart enough to remain still. I grab it. "But it's your birthday."

  The selfless part of me won out. The guilt of her giving me an orgasm first on her birthday overtook me. "Just think of it as a personal thank you card."

  My shorts end around my ankles, my cock in her hand: my favorite view. She's the only woman that's ever made me want to nut by the sight of her holding it alone. "It fits."

  She begins to stroke me. "Somehow it always has."

  "I guess it was just made for you."

  "Play a game?"

  "Okay. What?"

  "How many licks."

  "Fuck."

  And then she goes at it; at exactly the same time I start recording a video, slowly at first as she wraps her mouth around it for the first time. One thing about her I love: it turns her on to suck my cock. The little moans that come from her throat confirms it. Always following it is a sudden gush of wetness, just like . . . now.

  My head falls back against the glass. It's astounding that I never have to ask or hint around for head. Every man likes it. One that says he doesn't is lying. It's filthy, it's wet, and it's fucking hot watching your cock slide in and out of her mouth. She never bitches about not being able to take it very deep or it making her gag. She just opens her throat and breathes through it until my head hits the back; finishing what she can't suck of my length with her hand stroking to the rhythm of her mouth, and then she releases me, starting the entire process all over.

  She pulls me into her mouth all the way. I can feel the back of her throat. She makes a noise with her mouth, causing that little dangling muscle in the back of the throat to move, vibrating against my dick. "Holy Chr—"

  I grab her hair and pull, letting my phone drop after stopping the recording. Who knows if it's even been angled at the right place . . . I wasn't looking, but I'm not blowing until I have something to replace what I'm about to lose. "Handstand it."

  She looks up at me, a little confused, but doesn't stop. "Give me your fucking legs. Now."

  She pulls back until I'm no longer touching any part of her, and then turns around and backs toward me. I grab her legs, bringing them toward me until she's standing upside down. I lick between her legs, taking some of the white that's just barely visible at the entrance of her pussy. Her ankles wrap around my head. My arms move to her waist and I lift her off the floor to the appropriate height. "Suck me, baby. I got you."

  She starts again as I begin flicking my tongue back and forth over her clit. The vibrating is coming more regular now. It won't take me long. I suck her into my mouth, hard, before licking over her pussy once again. Then I fucking eat her like I'm starving. Her taste, her smell, and the look of her pussy swollen when she's turned on makes it easy.

  Just before she orgasms I shift, bringing one hand closer to her ass, pressing between her cheeks until my finger is where I want it. I rub her asshole. It's such a fucking easy orgasm enhancer. A little bit of stimulation and it's an all consuming, horny-as-fuck woman.

  I shove my tongue into her pussy as she begins to orgasm. Like an Oreo the white center is the best part. She deep throats me, moaning around my dick; loud as fuck. I press my thumb into her ass as the first spurt makes its way into her mouth. She takes it all. When your woman is thirsty you quench it.

  I lick her once, front to back, and then help her down as she pulls off of me. When she stands I look at her. She sways a little as the equilibrium balances back out. "You swallow?"

  Her tongue branches out when she opens her mouth. "Every drop."

  I reach out and grab the back of her neck, smashing my lips into hers at the halfway point. I want her so damn bad. My need to have her will never end. Tongue deep and lips raw, I reach down and lift her. She wraps her legs around me as I start to walk toward the couch, laying her down on the cool leather. "You can't have a birthday without birthday sex, baby. I guess it's time to start a tradition."

  Her hands rub up my back, nails first, until they're in the back of my hair. She's shaking beneath me. Her nipples are hard against my chest. "Show me the version that filled that room with balloons and gave me a baby. Make love to me. Show me with your body how long you'll want me."

  I look into her eyes. She's an open book right now. The floodgates to her soul are open and pouring through her eyes. She's emotional. She's second-guessing herself like she does almost every time she does something bold. That's what I love about her. She's raw. She's needy. She's in love.

  "Infinitely," I say as I push inside of her. "Nothing less."

  She pulls me closer. "Just like that."

  My girl . . . deserves the world.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Kambry

  New message from SinisterSlave . . .

  I touch the notification on my home screen and it takes me to the Tumblr app. My skin crawls at the sheer thought of what the pervert has to say. Cautiously I open it, unsure of what I'll find.

  Happy birthday, slut. Is it okay to call you that? My little slut. Mmmm . . . I like that body. I bet your parents are real proud of what they've created: a product of the Devil. Those red lips did just what they do best. I bet he was thinking the same: being sucked off by a whore. Only whores wear such a sinful color. I was thinking . . . New York might be nice this time of year. Once a whore, what's one more to add to the list? If I come, will you save that shade for me? Name your price. I'll be waiting.

  P.S. When it's my turn, I like to be called Daddy ;)

  SinisterSlave

  My phone falls from my shaky hands as I sit on the bed and wait for Tynleigh to bring what she's been instructed I wear for the night. Where we're going or what we're doing has been a surprise, so I'm not sure how I'm supposed to dress. Apparently Tynleigh has been assigned to find me something. Saxton left a few hours ago with Bryant so I could get ready.

  I grab my freshly dried hair hanging over my bare shoulder, clenching my towel in the hand that's been holding the two sides together. Tears fall down my face. I'm scared. Would he really come here looking for me? That's disgusting. What would he do to me to back up his threats and sly comments if he found me? This is getting to be too much. Should I tell Sax? Will he see it? He'll lose it . . .

  I quickly reach for my phone again and delete the message, hoping Saxton hasn't already seen it. He's just a bully. He wouldn't really come here. He wouldn't really harm me. There is no reason to freak out and let him ruin my birthday. Saxton warned me about people like him. How do I even really know it's a guy? It could be some jealous girl or something that's obsessed with Saxton's films. That's possible right?

  "Okay. I think you're going to like this," Tynleigh says as the door opens. She walks in holding a long garment bag, the bottom draped over her forearm; the entire thing zipped up so that I can't see what's under it. She looks at me and stops. "Kambry, what's wrong? Did I come at a bad time?"

  I brush away my tears. "It's nothing; just a stupid comment online. I'll be fine."

  "People are stupid. Do you need me to intervene again? I can raise the bar a little. I'm itching to crush a few balls. I
t's been a while."

  "No. It's fine. I can't depend on someone to come to my rescue every time my feelings get hurt."

  "Okay, but Kambry, you do know there is a block feature if someone harasses you right?"

  "Block? No. What does that do exactly?"

  "Keeps them from having access to your profile or contacting you usually. It was created for a purpose. Use it. Cyber bullying is way worse than it used to be. Most people think they are immortal sitting behind a computer, using their words like hollow-point bullets. It's no longer target practice when they are bold enough to comment negatively. They are aiming to kill. There are vultures out there, just watching and waiting for a weakling to come along. Be a viper."

  "Okay. I'll try that. Thanks."

  "Now, back to getting you ready before I have to deal with the wrath of lover-boy. I was put on a strict schedule. He sure is a lot bossier now that he's in love. I don't like it. He's taking all of my older sister privileges."

  "I claim no responsibility over his behavior."

  She lifts a brow. "Woman to woman, I'm going to need you to fix it. I've turned into a personal shopper, a wedding planner, and a decorator all within a week. Fix. It. Give him some of that porno Voodoo you have."

  I kind of already have, all over your apartment . . .

  That would probably make for awkward conversation, though. I think in this case it's a matter of what you don't know won't hurt you, so I decide to keep it vague. "If he's not fixed by now he's probably not going to be."

  She rolls her eyes. "Fine." Then she lets the bottom of the garment bag fall to just above the floor. "I decided to go back to the basics on this one. If there wasn't something to it, then there wouldn't be a song about it."

  "I don't know what that means but okay."

  She hangs the garment bag on the top of the door and unzips it, revealing a red silky fabric beneath. When it's completely unzipped, she removes the bag from the hanger and lets it fall to the floor. It's a simple design, the bottom long and the torso solid. There is no pattern really, just a rich red satin. The elegance is in the neckline; a sweetheart one, the boob lift coming from the wide piece of material that runs from one corner, behind the neck, and ends at the other. It's beautiful. "Wow. Love that dress."