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“I guess that was an abstract thing for me to do. I suppose I wasn’t thinking clearly,” he says once the laughing dies down, and the room is filled with silence once more.
He turns to look at the fireplace. “I see you’ve been using the camera I brought you,” he says, his tone more sarcastic than it is speculative.
“I actually have been using it. I was up all night playing around with it,” I say, getting up to grab the camera.
For a second, when I turn around to face him, I have the urge to take a photo of him. He’s sitting with his leg propped over his knee, his long arms resting on the chair as he looks at me. My heart starts to race again, a blush tickling at my cheeks before I turn my head away and turn the camera on.
“Can I see?” He asks, stunning me with his question.
“I don’t think that they’ll be any good,” I say, biting my lip as I go to sit back down in the chair next to him.
“There wasn’t much lighting in here and I’m used to taking photos outside anyway…” Embarrassed suddenly because I truly don’t feel like the photos turned out that great.
“Give me the camera, Lori,” he says, my face turning towards his.
We sit like that for a moment, gazing at each other. The air is charged with electricity and when I finally extend my arm to hand him the camera, his fingers touch mine and nearly shock me, a tingling warmth spreading throughout my skin. He doesn’t seem affected by it because he simply takes the camera and starts clicking through the shots, zero sound leaving him as he looks at my work. When a small humming sound finally leaves his lips, my head hangs in shame, embarrassment filling me.
“I know, they’re awful—” I try to say, but he stops me immediately.
“No, Lorena. They’re not,” he says quietly, his thumb frozen over the button as he stares at one image.
“In fact, I like this one in particular,” he says and I look up instantly.
“Which one is it?” I ask.
“It’s of the bed. The red cover is draping off of it and the only lighting is the fireplace. It’s almost… gothic looking. Gothic and erotic,” he says, the last word sounding like a sin as it leaves his lips, his eyes aimed on my face now as it heats.
He stands and walks in front of me, his legs resting in between my spread knees as he places the camera onto my lap.
“Thank you?” I whisper, confused by his statement mostly because that has not been something I’ve heard in regards to my photos.
“You have a gift,” he says, still standing above me when I look up at him.
Once again, I find myself wishing that I could see the expression on his face clearly. Right now, all I can read is the intense emotion that fills the air between us. It is heated and it is suffocating. It makes me act out of character actually because now I’m leaning up towards him, my hand pulling away from the chair and pausing in the air near his hip. I want to touch his cock right now. I want to feel him get hard for me, to see if my photo actually had an effect on him, if it is erotic after all.
I decide not to battle with my brain anymore right then. I let my fingertips graze the outline of his budding erection and I gasp from the feel of it, desire filling me as my pussy flutters and begins to get wet. He groans in response, one of his hands coming down to tangle in my hair. It spurs me on, my hand now fully palming his cock and rubbing through the expensive material of his pants, his fingers pulling my hair even tighter.
“I want you,” I say suddenly, brazenly, like a stranger has entered my body.
He makes me this way. I’ll start the day off pissed at him, hating him for what he does to me and then as soon as he’s near, my body completely takes over my mind. It’s like a reactor that only goes off when he’s nearby.
His grabs a handful of my hair, yanking my head back and pulling my focus towards his face now.
“Tell me what you want,” he commands, his free hand moving to cup my jaw, his thumb slipping into my mouth.
Without hesitation, I suck on it. I draw it in and wrap my lips around his thumb, tasting his salty skin as I moan around it.
“I want you to make me come,” I say, ready to get to the point.
Suddenly, I’m not in the mood for soft and slow, to be teased or tantalized. I want this man to fuck me and I want to feel it all.
“Good girl,” he says, bending down to kiss my nose before he grabs my arms and yanks me up from the chair, spinning me so that my back is towards the fireplace.
He sits down in my spot, his long legs spread wide as he looks my body up and down, my skin heated from every angle.
“Back up and stand in front of the fireplace,” he orders.
I take a few steps back until the bare skin of my thighs feel the warmth of the flames, my lip caught between my teeth. He wants to play right now, I can tell. And that excites me. It makes me want to play with him.
