Page 235 of Come Back to Me

She gasps. “My heart is sincerely offended by the comparison.”

“Your Napoleon complex is rearing its ugly head.”

“First, I’m fucking beautiful, and now I’m a notoriously short-assed dictator?” She huffs. “Thanks!”

I give her another spank for good measure that sets off a jiggle worthy of a picture.

Because I’m no fool, I dig into my pocket and retract my cell.

Taking a few snaps with the preset filter I fiddled around with the other day, I answer, “You’re welcome.” Then I shove the screen in front of her.

Her bottom lip gets sucked between her teeth. “I don’t look like that.”

That earns her another tap.

One-handed, I grab her ass cheek, tug it away from the other, and bare her slit to the room. Angling my phone down, I study the image and hitch the leg farthest from me up.

With all that juiciness on display and my cock more rock hard than ever, I take a picture.

“L-Let me see?” This time when I show it to her, she whispers, “You did that.”

I slide my finger over her gate, and as I circle it, the tip growing slick with her arousal, I get back to taking pictures.

Each time I photograph her, I show her the result.

By the end of it, she’s wetter than when I went down on her.

Should have figured she’d have an exhibitionist streak.

“So?” I need to return this train to the rails so I can shove my dick in her ASAP.

Then, she makes that an imperative because she hums. “So?”

“So! You don’t put yourself in dangerous situations.”

“That’s not fair! I might not realize I was in danger! And how am I supposed to know I’m in a dangerous situation unless I’m in a dangerous situation?”

Fuck. My. Life.

“We can discuss it afterward,” I retort, spanking her butt harder than before so that it leaves a mark.

A mark I commemorate forever with another picture.

Abandoning my cell on the small of her back, I dart down to grace her to the same treatment she gave me—I bite her ass.

That also needs commemorating.

“Afterward...” she muses.

“Yes.”

“Why are we talking about this again?”

Recalling what she’d said about her nonna, I find it easier to be truthful: “Because you’re not allowed to die unless it’s a mutual decision.”

“I don’t intend on going anywhere for a long time, babe,” she whispers, twisting back so we’re looking at each other.

I dip my chin then grace her with another spank.

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