Page 27 of The Photo
Eleven
Rowan crawls across my bed with her bare peach shaped ass swaying like a provocative feline. For a woman who’s bashful, she’s sure as hell worked out how to tease me.
I watch her from my vantage point at the edge of the bed, loving how her naked body belongs in my personal space. She lowers, propping her head up with the heel of her palm. Elegant fingers glide over the clean sheets and lightly pat the mattress beside her. I can’t help but grunt when that movement makes her plump tits wobble.
It makes my dick painfully hard. I take a quick second to scan her soft belly and rounded hips. I’ve had women in my bed before, plenty of them, but I wasn’t searching for a connection. My life is changing before my eyes, a slow metamorphosis. I’m not the butterfly developing colorful wings, I’m the spectator who’s watching the gift of her beauty unravel. Rowan is my delicate butterfly, and I am the surrounding breeze.
“I’ve never fucked a photographer before.” I stare down at her under lowered lashes, nipping my lip.
The whole time we’ve been together, she’s never once reached for her phone or asked for a selfie with me. I’m getting off on the idea of her being my muse, of taking snapshots of her body wrapped in my sheets. A possessive hankering builds inside me. My instincts tell me I can trust this woman.
“Oh. The hot model wants to be the photographer?” she responds with a new boldness. The soft girly laughter that follows makes me grin uncontrollably.
I notice her phone resting in the mouth of her handbag, so I grab it and tap open the camera.
Rowan grapples with the sheet. “No nudes!” Her mouth gapes and her eyes pop.
I scan the closeup picture of her face I’ve just taken on the small screen, then look up to study the real thing. “You’re my muse. Don’t worry, I respect your privacy as you’ve respected mine. Anyway, it’s your phone. You can delete them after, if you want to, or send me a few.” I wink.
Her features relax, and I notice her gaze drift to my dick. “You don’t have enough money to pay for those types of photos of me.”
“I’ll pay whatever you’re asking.” I smirk, taking my time to look at her, waiting for consent.
She fiddles with her hair, like that will make her look even more gorgeous than she already is. “I’m not objecting to your idea.” She draws her knees up a fraction. “The lighting is awful, Noah,” she adds with a hint of professionalism teased by arousal.
“I’ve already memorized every inch of you.” I grab the sheet and tug. “Including those sexy sounds you make.” White cotton curls around her hip. I hold the lenses to a bare shin and capture the curvature of her leg. My spine bends, and I rest my lips to her knee, peppering kisses to her ankle. “For every body part I take a photo of, I’ll kiss the same spot.”
She wriggles when I crawl across the mattress and grip her foot. “There’s something unbelievably hot about your pale skin.” I raise it to my shoulder height. “It’s the simplicity of it that drives me wild.” My teeth graze the soft sheen on her arch, and I’m gifted with a giggle. I stare at her well positioned hand, covering her pink folds. She’s absurdly innocent.
Gently, I position her leg back on the mattress and continue with my job, angling the phone like I’m a professional. “Where else should I kiss my model?” I say recklessly.
White sheets come away inch by inch, exposing a risqué view of brown nipples popping up. I gulp, fully aware of my dick hardened to a permanent state of arousal. Her pelvis tilts while her bottom lip sucks in at one corner. Her spine bends, lifting her breasts towards me. “Right here, Noah.” She lifts, giving me permission.
She trusts me.
The phone drops to the mattress. The thick growl from my throat stuns my usual patient composure. I’m drawn to her, defenseless and hungry. My mouth latches onto a hard nub, and I suckle, pushing her fleshy tits together just to see them rub. Before I know it, she’s writhing beneath me, coaxing me to take her. Pleasure buzzes inside my groin, around my core and pulsating in my dick. Every stroke of her quaking skin brings forth a tremble in my hand. I’m caught up in the blinkered drive to fuck Rowan and own her.
Nails scrape across my ass in an urgent plea to position my hips. I’m ready for this. I’m ready to worship this woman, no matter the obstacles.
“Hold on.” I barely get the words out as I lunge across the bed and rifle through the nightstand drawer. A foil packet splices open and my hand works quickly, rolling the thin barrier down my length. In a blur, I’m back in place. Skin on skin. Rowan beneath me. I skillfully align my solid erection to her heat with one hand, the other secures her chin. She should focus on me. Only me.
Slowly, with control, I slide inside. The sensation of her walls constricting my length sends an uncontrollable tremor through me. Her heavy lids close. “Rowan.” Her name strains my voice. I stop, angling deeper. “Look at me.” I want her to appreciate this connection as much as I do, because there’s no going back from this. Rowan Hudson is mine.
On command, her lids ping open, and the sensational shade of green hides in a halo of black passion. She hisses out my name when I rut in harder. None of the women before her prepared me for this overbearing voracity. I release her face, hitch her leg high and extend it out to deepen my thrusts. Cold sweat gathers in the base of my back and rests in beads at my temple, the result of drawing out the pleasure without a quick surrender.
“Keep those green eyes on me. Be aware of what you’re doing to me. Rowan,” I pant. “I want to see you shatter into a million pieces because my dick is owning you.” Rowan sucks in until her lungs fill, and her nails claw when I plunge in harder. I focus on her parted lips, flushed face, her bouncing tits and her copper colored hair splayed around her. She’s beautiful. “I’m going to lose it. Any second now.”
With that confession, my hips buck, and I stabilize my movements with a palm by her head, letting her legs slide free so my chest can meet hers. When she rears up into me and gently bites my shoulder, my balls tighten, and I lose track of the day, month, year—everything.
Her head falls to the pillow, and her eyes lock me down. My pace is fast and relentless until her legs clamp around me and she screams out my name like it’s branded on her tongue.
I crash beside her on the bed, rolling on to the cold phone. I lift it into the air, swap around the camera view so our faces are on the screen, and then take a collection of pictures, only seconds after climax. We’re on a high. Both smiling. I’m nuzzling her cheek. She’s licking my jaw. I’m French kissing her with light licks and teasing flicks.
“Don’t worry, I’ll delete those pictures.” Rowan rests her temple to my pecs once we settle. The weight of her head in that very spot feels so damn good. That one perfect sentence removes this woman from the others I’ve met in my time. She has no ulterior motive and no desire to post our dirty fling on the internet.
“Why would you do that?” I ask, eager to hear her verbalize the reason.
She takes a moment to reply, drawing out the planes of my stomach with her finger. It’s a thoughtful, affectionate caress from a woman who is suddenly becoming more than a social media follower. “I’m not here for that. This is between you and me. No one else. I’d like to cherish the memory, but—”
