Chapter Eight

Sargent

I’m nervous. This is happening. I don’t know how it began happening but it’s happening. Though she could still back out.

I’ve never wanted to take a photograph more in my entire life.

This is groundbreaking for me. This feeling, it’s taking me back to my younger years when photography was all I could think about.

I check the tripods are functional for the fifth time and turn on my digital camera. I have one antique camera that I use and one very expensive digital camera. I like the way they both capture images. The digital is clear and crisp whereas the antique puts a natural sepia over everything.

There’s not a software in the world that can perfectly mimic an old camera like mine. It would have been state of the art once upon a time and is likely worth a fair bit these days.

There’s a gentle knock on the door. I move to it, my camera hanging around my neck.

I’m relieved to see she has washed and dried her hair, it’s floating in thick curtains of dark brown around her shoulders. There’s no makeup on her face and there’s nothing but a fluffy towel around her body which she’s holding onto for dear life.

This is insane. I can’t believe we’re doing this.

She takes in the setup, the thick, cream fur rug on the ground by the window which has an even better view of Malibu than the garden.

“Don’t be nervous,” I assure her, unsure on how to approach her.

“I’m not,” she lies and gulps audibly. “Where do you want me?”

Over my bed, on the floor, on all fours, on my face.

“On… On the rug, just there.” I point and move the tripod out of the way.

I turn away when she starts to unwrap the towel. I hear it drop on the floor and bite hard on my lip.

“Shall I lie down?”

“Please,” I reply and inhale a deep breath before looking at her.

She sits on her side first, her legs bent as she takes in the view, her back to me as the sun finally starts to set.

“Wait,” I bark when she starts to move. I take a couple of shots of her just like that. I never take so many shots. I line up the perfect ones and click. There’s something about her that has me wanting to capture every single angle of her physical soul. “Okay, lie down.”

I push my fist into my mouth to stop myself from groaning when I see it all. All of her beautiful body, every naked inch of flesh that I so badly wanted to see last night but couldn’t allow myself the pleasure.

Her round breasts are soft against her chest which rises and falls slowly. Her bare mound is slightly hidden by her leg which is raised higher than the other, a subconscious way of offering herself a little modesty.

I want to part her thighs and slot myself between them.

I stand on the stepladder to get a bit of height over her but it’s not right. The lighting isn’t catching her body the way it did before. The picture isn’t perfect, not that her body isn’t perfect. I’ve never seen a nicer body. I’ve never craved a nicer body.

“I’ll be just a moment,” I whisper softly and she bites her lip much like I just did. Her eyes don’t meet mine.

I grab what I need and race back to her, praying she hasn’t moved, praying the sunset hasn’t suddenly vanished. It’s a ridiculous thought but one I can’t help. I have just a short amount of time to get this right.

“Take your time,” she mumbles playfully and then grins at me. Her face is so beautiful, her soft features and tilted wide eyes, her near symmetrical face, her hazel-green eyes. All of it the perfect combination.

“Sorry.” I raise the bottle of body oil and bag of ice

“What are you doing?” She doesn’t look happy to see the props.

“It’s for the shot,” I reply but I’m not so sure it is. “It smells like strawberries.” Tastes like it too but I leave that part out.

I squirt the oil on her chest and midriff and she murmurs a breathy, “Oh my God.”

“Do you want to do the honors?”

“Duh.” She rubs it in herself and it’s even more erotic than watching her with the suntan lotion. “This is just so fucking random.” I smile at her and her eyes scan my face. “Promise me you won’t post these all over the internet.”

“On my honor,” I reply, taking an ice cube out of the bag when she lies back down. I don’t ask her permission this time, because I’m not thinking. Because I’m an idiot. A crafty, clever idiot.

I roll the ice cube over her left nipple where the tiny silver balls of her piercing peek out of the sides. The ice cube catches it gently and I have to fight the urge to tease it with my tongue.

She gasps at the contact and swallows before blowing out a breath between her parted lips.

I’m getting hard again.

She watches me as I lose myself, totally transfixed by the way her nipple tightens and extends.

I lower my head and hear her breath catch in her throat when I start to blow on her, to dry the water that’s rolling down the oily sheen that really does smell like strawberries. The oil was a gift that I got in a bag from an event I attended last year. I thought it was stupid but it really has come in handy.

When I move the ice cube to her other nipple she grabs my wrist and squirms while saying, “This is starting to feel less artistic and more like foreplay.”

She said foreplay.

I snap back into the now.

I quickly stand, climb the small ladder and take the shots with both of my cameras.

She moves her body how I ask, just little adjustments here and there as I get the perfect images. It’s better than expected. Her pebbled nipples, her wide eyes holding arousal, her lips swollen and parted as though waiting for a kiss. Her incredible, bare pussy that I want to touch.

I get plenty of incredible shots but I want more, so many more and there’s just one part of her that she’s missed.

I take the oil again as she fans out her hair and squeeze it onto the part of thigh that doesn’t hold the same sheen the rest of her body does.

She jolts and frowns at me. “What are you doing?”

“The sun’s about to set, we missed a spot.” I don’t wait for permission, I place my hand on her thigh and rub.

A gasped breath releases from between her parted lips as she watches what I’m doing.

Tempest

His hand gently massages the oil in, even after the spot I missed is covered. He’s in a trance like before when he was teasing my nipples.

I’m aroused and his hand is not helping.

He’s getting higher and higher, completely abandoning his camera to use his other hand to lean on as he strokes my inner thigh.

When his finger gets so close I can feel the heat of it against my rapidly moistening sex, my eyes flutter closed and I moan. I try to stop myself but it’s too intense. There’s too much of everything happening. I want him to touch me. More than I’ve ever wanted to be touched.

Then his hand goes back down, past my knee. I feel almost disappointed until it starts coming back up again.

He doesn’t try to make eye contact, I’m glad. I’m in a happy little bubble right now. My body is responding in ways it never has for anyone.

“Jesus,” he whispers when he finally makes contact and slips his finger into the wetness between my thighs. I whimper, shifting on the soft rug as he drags the moisture to my clitoris and rolls it gently, only quickening his pace when I shudder.

I reach out and grab his bare arm as my aching, clenching, and burning body writhes from his touch alone.

“Please,” I beg on a whisper, aching to be filled, touched more, something. Anything.

When his mouth closes around my pierced nipple and his tongue rolls around it I grip the fur rug and come undone.

My orgasm gently rolls through me in a way I can’t control. I’ve never orgasmed through just clitoral stimulation before and it’s insanely amazing. It burns inside in a way that it never has. I feel like I want to fill it but also not because of how crazy it feels.

I hear a click which brings me back to where I am and who I’m with.

I sit up and look at him in the dark, his camera in hand. The sun must have set. I didn’t even notice.

His eyes scan my face, my neck, my body. His pupils are dilated in a way I know he’s as aroused as I am.

We breathe heavily, staring at each other in a way we haven’t before. His surprise mirrors my own. His arousal too.

I watch him start to lean over me, as if readying himself for my kiss.

I’m about to demand he fuck me and forget the foreplay when we both hear a very loud, “Dad? You up there?”

A panicked look comes over his features and I see a realization dawn in his eyes. The same panic and sudden realization comes over me too.

I’m naked in Maddox’s dad’s room!

I’m not sure he’d approve, in fact, I know he won’t. Maddox is the most important person in my life, what am I doing?

“Go,” I hiss at him and he stands.

“Coming,” he calls to Maddox and finally leaves, giving me one last lingering look from the door.

I scramble to collect my towel and when I’m certain the coast is clear, I slip out of his room and creep all the way downstairs to my own.