Page 12 of Sold to the Investor

I’ve seen how rough he can be, and it’s clear that emotions are a new feeling for him. But, knowing that he’s warm and soft only for me makes me fall even harder. I don’t want to be away from him. I want to listen to his gruff voice all day and watch his eyes go dark with want when he looks at me.

Sometimes, I wish I still had my camera so I could save every stare, every smile.

I wipe down the kitchen island as I finish breakfast, the delicious scent of it making my mouth water, and I start to put the ingredients back in their places. I could get used to this.

What about Daryl?Am I ready to leave my destructive brother by himself? I think about it for a moment, and I realize that I am ready. I still love him, but I can’t go back to someone who sold me off like a cow for slaughter.

What if he comes looking for me? What will I do?

The questions haunt me as I reach up to place the pan back in its place. I hear a familiar shutter click behind me. When I turn around, Grayson is standing by the door with a camera on his face. I’m distracted for a moment by his rugged features and his muscular frame in sweatpants and a tight T-shirt, until I hear another click.

I blink slowly, taking in the scene. “That’s a camera,” I say as if in a trance. I’m in shock.

“You look sexy as fuck in my shirt,” he says in his gravelly tone, and I blush.

I still get shy around him sometimes. Especially when I’m caught off guard by his compliments. “I didn’t have any clothes to wear,” I explain.

“It’s alright, baby. I love seeing you in my clothes. Might even want you to wear them every day,” he says, then takes another shot of me. “I want to take you on the kitchen island and fuck you till you scream my name,” he growls softly.

My breath hitches and my core tightens, flooding my insides instantly. Another click.

“Fuck, baby. You look ready to come.” Another click.

“Or do you want me to bend you over the stool and fuck you? Do you want that, baby?” he asks, drawing nearer.

“Y-yes,” I breathe out as he takes another picture.

My pussy is soaking wet and my hard nipples are poking the soft material of his shirt as he reaches me. He leans in to take my lips in a slow, deep kiss. I’m panting by the time he stops.

He reaches under the shirt, and his fingers part my swollen slit, making him groan softly. “You aren’t wearing panties.”

I whimper in response, holding on to his shoulder as he flicks his thumb over my clit. I get wetter and grip him tighter as the next finger joins in. My body trembles as he moves his fingers deftly and rapidly over my sensitive flesh. Shivers rack my body as he gradually leads me to the peak. My orgasm is hard and sharp.

“Grayson!” I shout.

He presses a soft kiss on my forehead and the corner of my lips, holding on to me until my rubbery knees gain strength. “Pose for me, baby. I want to take a picture of you looking so goddamn delectable,” he says and moves back.

I lean back against the cabinets, my hip popping to the side, and smile shyly. He takes a shot, then another. Feeling bolder, I change my poses, each one more erotic than the next. My smile is teasing and sensual, until finally he stops and covers the space between us. His midnight eyes are warm and languid with need and something else.

“You’re a lovely sight,” he says gruffly, and closes his lips over mine.

The kiss is softer and warmer, as if he’s savoring me. His tongue sweeps into my mouth. It’s warm and sensual and I’m moaning into his lips, giving as much as he takes. I’m not afraid to show how much he affects me. He slowly lets go of my mouth and presses his forehead to mine.

How did I get so lucky to be here with Grayson? This amazing man who I know I’m falling in love with.

Love.

But surely it’s way to soon, I scold myself. It hasn’t even been two days!

Still, I know the feelings growing within me are real, and soon enough I’ll have to face them, and I’ll have to hope he feels the same way.

He opens his mouth as if he’s about to say something, but then catches himself in time and gives me a lopsided smile. It’s boyish and makes my heart tremble.

“The camera is yours,” he says gruffly. “I was thinking about what you told me. How you love photography, and I wanted the first picture on it to be of you. Now I understand why you love it so much. I enjoyed taking those pictures and knowing that I’ll always have memories of this moment.”

My smile comes easily at his words. I miss having a camera and doing what I love best. “Thank you,” I breathe out softly as I take it from him.

“And I talked to a friend at the university. Admissions open again in the fall. If you want, you can apply and resume studying photography,” he says.

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