Art Lovers Romance Series

Becca Colton

Copyright © September 2019 Becca Colton

All rights reserved.

Cover image © DepositPhotos / artem_furman

Contents

Art Lovers Romance Series

Mailing List

The Collector

The Artist

The Photographer

Also by Becca Colton

Mailing List

Copyright Notice

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The Collector

Skylar:

All I wanted to do was create art and sell my paintings online, but I let my best friend talk me into doing an actual live gallery showing. As if that’s not nerve-racking enough, the man who can make or break an artist is here. He’s looking at my work. And he’s looking at me. He’s tall and handsome, with just a hint of gray in his hair. He makes me feel things I’ve never felt before, makes me want things I never thought I’d have, but I know nothing lasting can happen between us. He enjoys fine things, and I’m damaged goods.

Logan:

I know what I like, and I’m used to getting what I want. But the gorgeous artist that has captured my heart has a frustrating habit of running away from me whenever we start to get too close. She thinks she’s not good enough, she thinks she’s broken, but I’ll do whatever it takes to prove to her that she’s perfect for me.

Chapter 1

Skylar

“It’s simply exquisite, Sky.”

I glance at Cyndie, my best friend since elementary school, as I put the finishing touches on my latest painting. I wasn’t sure if it would be ready in time for the gallery showing tonight, but it should be dry enough to display. “You say that about all my paintings, Cyn.”

She flashes me a grin. “That’s because you’re incredibly talented and all your paintings are exquisite.”

I shake my head as I head to the sink. I have just enough time to clean up, load the artwork, and set everything up at the gallery for my very first public showing. “Tell me again why I let you talk me into this?” I ask.

“Because an online portfolio is nice but serious art buyers want to actually see the art, right in their faces. It’s an intimacy between the buyer and the artist that you simply can’t replicate online.”

“That’s cheesy as fuck. You know that, right?”

Cyndie rolls her eyes. “Fine. Some buyers are quicker to buy when they can walk out right then with the painting they just bought, instead of having to wait five to seven days for it to be delivered . . . and that means more chances for some of those sweet dolla dolla bills to end up in your incredibly talented hands.” She arches an eyebrow. “That a good enough reason for you?”

I don’t answer as I finish cleaning my brushes. I love Cyn like a sister but she just doesn’t get it. I can fake it online, but people will expect a real artist at an art gallery, and I’m not that. I’m not talented. I’m defective. Broken. I don’t paint the way I do because of any creativity or artistic vision. I simply paint what I see. People call it art because they don’t see things the way I see them. Literally.

“What if someone figures out I’m the artist?” I say. “You know I don’t want anyone to put my name with my art.”

“I know,” Cyndie says. “You’ve got tons of talent to be proud of so I don’t understand, but I do know.” She shrugs. “There’s no reason for anyone to make that connection though. The gallery’s only contact with you is through your loyal manager” — she smirks and points at herself — “and I’m not telling anyone.”

I nod, feeling a little more relieved about remaining anonymous.

“And you know I love you, Sky, but please, for the love of God, give the jeans and t-shirt a break and actually, you know, get a little fancy.

“I was planning on cleaning the paint out from under my nails. Is that fancy enough?”

Cyndie rolls her eyes and groans. “I’d love to think you’re kidding but I know you’re not.” She shakes her head as she comes over, grabs my shoulders, and gives me a sort-of friendly shake. “This is a special occasion, Sky. Not only are you having your first actual real-life art show, but you’re finally—finally—stepping outside this studio for the first time in a long time. Live a little.”

I frown at her. “Remember what happened the last time I lived a little?”

Cyndie sighs and offers a sad smile. “Yes, you went out with a douche.”

“A douche you set me up with.”

Cyndie throws her hands in the air. “I didn’t know he was a douche. He acted like a decent guy at work. He was a douche in disguise.”

I can’t help the smile that appears on my face . . . or the laugh. It was a sucky date, with the “douche in disguise” making fun of me when I told him about my condition. I don’t know why I told him. Probably too much rice wine at the fancy Japanese restaurant he took me to. He made a comment about the colorful paper lanterns hung above the tables and I slipped up, revealing that I couldn’t see any of the colors. From there, he thought it was great fun to constantly ask me to guess what color his shirt and tie were, along with making driving jokes because I couldn’t see the colors of a red light. Yeah, that night was a blast. Still, it was sort of worth it just to hear Cyndie say douche in disguise now.

“Hey!” Cyndie calls out, pulling a sheet off a portrait tucked in the back corner of my studio. “You don’t want to leave this one back here by itself. You might forget it when you pack up the others.”

I look at the portrait and feel my cheeks heat up. “I’m not forgetting it. I’m just not taking it.”

Cyndie looks at me like I just slapped her, then returns her gaze to the canvas she’s holding. It’s a self-portrait of me. Sultry expression, bare shoulders, just a hint of cleavage. The result of too much wine at the end of a long day. “Sky, it’s gorgeous. It has to go.”

I shake my head. “Not happening, Cyn. Deal with it.”

She squares her shoulders and sets her jaw like she’s ready to fight. I’ve known her long enough to know that she’s ready to dig in. Usually, her stubbornness is too much for me, but I’m determined this time. My face is not going to be hanging on the wall of an art gallery, displayed for the whole world to see, and that is that.

Chapter 2

Logan

I smile at the lull in conversation as I enter the art gallery, taking perverse pleasure in the shock in the guests’ eyes when they realize who I am.

Some of them might not know my name, but they all know my passion. In the art world, I’m known as the Collector, and I can make or break any artist practically overnight.

“Mr. Brighton, a pleasure to have you here.”

“You’re even more handsome in person.”

“I’ll give you a thousand dollars to say online that you like my art.”

“Let me be your sex slave. I’ll do anything for you.”

I pluck a glass of champagne off a silver tray offered by a server, ignoring them all. They don’t understand. I’m not here for them. I’m here for the art.

I wander through the tiny art gallery. It’s not the fanciest in the city, but they have a reputation of offering new artists a place to show their work. There’s nothing wrong with appreciating the work of known artists, of course, but nothing beats being the first. The first to notice a new artist, the first to introduce an innocent girl to the pleasures of the body. It’s a distinction that can never be taken away. There can always be someone better, someone worse, but only one can be first.

There are several new artists on display tonight. Most of the work is boring, the artists too busy trying to be someone else instead of themselves. Except for one. Umbra. It’s an interesting name with an interesting style. Landscapes, still life, portraits, all rendered in various shades of black, gray, and white. Not a speck of color anywhere. The imagery is stark, bold, attention-getting, and one image in particular steals all my attention.

It’s a portrait of a young woman, probably no older than twenty-one. Her light hair is tousled, looking wild and windswept, her lips cutting a stern line across unblemished skin with one corner swept slightly in a mischievous smirk. One bare shoulder is turned forward, with just a hint of cleavage appearing before the image fades, blending with the white of the canvas. But it’s her eyes that capture my soul. Light gray in the image, the artist has captured an innocence and vulnerability I hadn’t thought possible, but there’s also pain, hidden in the back, tucked away behind the innocence.

I take a quick drink of champagne to relieve a suddenly dry throat. This is the piece. This Umbra person is about to become one of the greats, and it has nothing to do with their unique style, as interesting as it is. No, it’s the woman. It’s those eyes. I could look into those haunted, innocent eyes forever.

I turn on my heel to find the gallery owner. I’ve found the piece I want. No need to look further, and then I see a sight that robs me of my breath. It’s her. The girl in the portrait. Standing just a few feet away. Her hair is blonde, falling across her shoulders and down her back like a waterfall of liquid gold. Her skin is as flawless as it appears in the portrait, as smooth as fine porcelain, and my fingers itch to touch her. She laughs at something said by the girl she’s talking to, her eyes roaming across the room as she takes a sip of her drink. Her gaze falls on me and stops, and I immediately see the one fault in the likeness captured by Umbra. The various shades of gray do no justice to this girl’s eyes, as bright and blue as the purest sapphire. Her cheeks take on a subtle pink tint when she realizes I’m looking at her.

I decide right then that the painting isn’t enough. I want her.

She doesn’t see me approaching, having returned to her conversation with the woman. I can’t help my eyes roaming up and down her body, seeing what the painting wasn’t able to show.

Dressed in a simple but elegant black dress that hugs her curves, the woman is capturing the attention of more than one man in the gallery. The dress has tiny spaghetti straps that leave her shoulders bare, and the hem of her dress rests halfway between her thighs and knees. Her creamy skin has received the barest hint of a kiss from the sun, which makes sense. If she’s working as a model, she would want to ensure her skin stays smooth as silk. My fingers twitch with the desire to touch her, caress her, claim her.

Another man obviously has similar thoughts, his eyes locked on her as he moves across the room. I move towards the woman quickly. The man notices. I glare at him and shake my head. He stares at me for a few seconds. My jaw tightens and I arch an eyebrow. He drops his eyes to the floor for a second and then finds something else to be interested in, moving away and pouting like a child denied a treat.

I look back at the bewitching woman, unable to help the smirk that forms on my face. Mine.

Chapter 3

Skylar

I stare at the man staring at me, feeling a shiver run down my spine as his steel gray eyes seem to stare into my soul. It’s him. I’ve never met him, but I’ve read everything — online and off — about him. Logan Brighton. The Collector. If he were to take an interest in my work . . . I shake my head, smiling at the silly thought. There’s no way in the world he could be interested in my work, not when there are so many other pieces to admire. Pieces filled with worlds of color. A world that I’m isolated from. He starts walking, and there’s no doubt that he’s headed straight toward me. I down the rest of my champagne with one gulp and lick my lips.

“Damn, girl,” Cyndie says. “That’s like your third glass. I know you’re nervous, but take it easy.”

I tear my eyes away from the man and his perfectly fitting suit and force my somewhat blurry gaze to focus on her. “This showing was your idea, Cyn. I was fine just painting my stuff and selling it online.”

My eyes flick back to the man and I suck in a sharp breath as he appears right in front of me, his eyes burning with such intensity I’m surprised my skin doesn’t burn. I notice the white streaks in his otherwise dark hair. I know from my online fangirling that he’s forty-two . . . maybe forty-three now — It was an old article. Either way, he wears his age well. Really well.

“I have seen many lovely things tonight,” he says, “but nothing comes close to being as lovely as you.”

If anyone else had said it, it would be cheesy as hell, but I feel a warm flush wash over me when he says it, or maybe it’s the way he’s looking at me that makes it feel like someone turned the air conditioning off.

I stare up into steel-gray eyes that seem to burn into my very soul. Of course, I don’t know if his eyes really are gray, but something tells me they are, and there’s no doubt about the passion that burns in them. I resist the urge to fan myself as I grow lightheaded, and then I realize I haven’t taken a breath since he’s spoken to me. I force myself to inhale, tearing my gaze from his eyes to admire the strong chin, the broad shoulders that seem barely constrained by the tuxedo he’s wearing. I run my tongue over suddenly dry lips and hear the man growl. I gasp, the primal sound igniting a fire within me.

I hear someone clear their throat. Cyndie, looking at me with a smirk on her face and mischief in her eyes. I glare at her and then look back up at the mountain of a man before me. I’m barely five feet, and this guy has to be over six feet tall. He extends his hand.

“Logan Brighton.”

I place my hand in his, noticing how it almost disappears when he wraps his fingers around mine. I swallow loudly, unable to stop myself from wondering about the size of other things on this handsome giant. He rubs his thumb in soft circles across the top of my hand and I feel another bout of lightheadedness coming on.

He looks at me quizzically.

“And you are?”

Oh my god! How long have I just been standing here like an idiot, almost swooning just because a hot guy is holding my hand? “Kimball. Skylar.” My cheeks feel like they’re on fire and I imagine my face is red as an apple. “I mean, Skylar Kimball. Skylar is my first name.”

He leans over and kisses the top of my hand, his eyes never leaving mine.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Skylar.”

A warmth I haven’t felt in a long while grows between my thighs, my brain locked on to the feeling of his lips against my skin. Fuck me. I gasp. Did I say that out loud? I look quickly between Cyndie and the new subject of every wet dream I’ll ever have for the rest of my life. Nobody seems shocked, and Cyndie isn’t laughing, so it must’ve stayed in my head. Thank god.

“Hey,” Cyndie says, nodding her head toward the far side of the room. “I think I see someone I haven’t seen in a long time and I should probably go talk to them.” She glances at Logan and then back to me, flashing me a wicked grin. “Have fun.”

Before I can ask what she means by that, she turns and walks away, almost instantly inserting herself into a conversation with a couple admiring one of my black and white landscapes on the wall. She glances over her shoulder at me for just a second and flashes me a wink.

I look back at the man standing in front of me, his gaze so intent that I can’t help but wonder if he even notices the surroundings or the other people. I try to think of something to say but all I can think about are his large hands on my body, his lips on mine. I chuckle to myself. As if that could happen. There was more of a chance of him taking an interest in my art.

“What’s so funny,” he asks.

I blink, my mind refusing to cooperate. I have this insane urge to run away. My eyes cut to a door along the back wall. I’ve been in this gallery hundreds of times, even rented space to paint before I had my own studio. I know that behind that door is a long hallway with painting spaces, offices, and storage rooms. And at the end of that hall is a door. A door to the outside world. A door that leads away from the penetrating gaze of this man-god of the art world.

He tears his eyes away long enough to follow the direction of mine and then looks back toward me, a small smile playing at his kissable-looking lips. “Thinking of running?”

I gasp. Busted.

Chapter 4

Logan

It was a simple question, said as a joke, but the deer-in-headlights glimmer of fear that flashes through her eyes tells me she’s actually thinking of doing just that.

I reach out and put my hand on her shoulder, my cock instantly becoming hard at the skin-on-skin contact. Now it’s my turn to chuckle and shake my head. I’m only touching her arm and already close to coming in my pants. Like I’m some junior high virgin touching a girl for the first time.

She looks me in the eye, ignoring my hand on her bare skin, although I do notice she leans slightly into my touch. “What’s so funny?”

My smile widens at the fire I see in her gaze. I wonder what she’d think if I told her I was laughing at myself for coming so close to blowing my load just from touching her. I almost tell her, curious for her reaction. But she’s already skittish, and I don’t want her to run.

“I was just thinking you seem awfully shy for a model.”

She laughs, a cute little snort at the end. Her cheeks flush bright red at that. “What makes you think I’m a model?”

I angle to the side and look over my shoulder. She follows my gaze.

“Oh.” Her blush grows deeper.

“Oh?” I can’t help but grin at her response. I’ve probably smiled more while in this presence of this gorgeous woman than I have in the past year.

She shrugs. “I know the artist. I had to much wine and agreed to pose. It was silly.”

I suppress a sudden spark of rage that explodes within me. It’s not fucking silly to me. Another man saw her naked? Did he touch her? She gasps and looks at my hand. I realize I tightened my grip and force my fingers to relax.

“So,” I say, forcing my voice to remain calm, “this Umbra. Is he a boyfriend? Husband?”

She smiles. “He is a she . . . and I regretted it as soon as I saw it the next morning.” She shakes her head. “I should’ve put a match to it.”

I slide my hand down her arm and take her hand, drawing her closer to me. “Such a vision of beauty should never be destroyed. The talent” — I reach up with my other hand and caress her cheek — “the beauty,” I whisper softly.

“I’m not talented,” she says. She frowns, as if she said something she didn’t mean to say. “I mean, it’s not like it takes a lot of skill to sit and pose . . . which is all I did.”

I smile. “You might be surprised to find that modeling can be a demanding job, and with the right subject painting can seem almost effortless.” I shrug. “I don’t mean to detract from Umbra’s skills because she is incredibly talented, but it’s not hard to create a work of art when the woman posing is as lovely as a goddess.”

I look into her eyes, noticing for the first time an intriguing network of thin black lines that run through her sapphire blue eyes, almost as if they were fine china that had been dropped and cracked. I run my fingers across her chin, tilting her head up. She licks her lips, our gazes locked together. “You have such exquisite eyes.” I lean towards her, anxious to feel her lips against mine.

Chapter 5

Skylar

I step back, pulling my hand from his. His fingers tighten for a second before releasing me. My chin tingles where he caressed me, and the sudden shock in his eyes is like a kick in the stomach, but I can’t let him get close. Not when he thinks I’m flawless. “I’m not a goddess,” I say, my throat suddenly dry as I fight back tears. “I’m a freak.”

He reaches for me, but there’s nothing he can do to change things, so I do what I always do when someone tries to get close. I turn and run.

I head toward the door I saw earlier, my fantasy becoming reality. Too bad it’s not the other fantasy I had in mind. The one where the Collector makes me part of his collection, the one where he draws me close and worships me with his hands and lips and . . . I shake my head. That’ll never happen. He’s the Collector, known for admiring flawless beautiful things. And I’m far from flawless. He already noticed my eyes. He just doesn’t know what that means. He doesn’t know how broken I am.

I run through the gallery, barely keeping my balance on the heels that Cyn talked me into wearing. With a growl, I kick them, leaving them where they lay. I don’t know if anyone is watching the crazy lady make a run for it, and I don’t care. I shove through the door and run down the hall, my tears smearing everything in front of me. Luckily, I don’t need to see to know where I’m going.

Chapter 6

Logan

I stare at Skylar as she runs through the crowd, disappearing through a door marked ‘Employees Only’. I’m a freak. Her words. The most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen thinks she’s a freak. I feel a surge of anger build inside me and I wish I could get my hands on whoever made her have such a low opinion of herself.

The friend—Cyndie I believe she said her name was—is headed toward the door Skylar went through, and that just won’t do. Nobody comforts my woman except me. I hesitate for just a second. My woman? I nod to myself. Yes. I don’t know exactly when it happened—perhaps when I saw the painting, perhaps when I saw her—but she’s my woman.

I pick up the discarded heels and walk quickly toward the door, outpacing the girl with my long legs. “I’ll take care of this.” I point at the black and white portrait. “That’s mine. Nobody else gets it.”

The girl looks into my eyes, and apparently she sees something that makes her trust that her friend is in good hands. She nods and heads toward the portrait.

The door Skylar went through opens into a long hallway, with numerous doors lining the walls on both sides. The sound of crying echoes through one of those doors, ripping out my insides. Something I did, something I said, made her cry. I don’t know what, but I do know it’s important that I fix it.

I follow the sounds to an almost-but-not-quite-shut door toward the end of the hall on the right. I push the door open and step into what appears to be an artist’s studio, with easels set up throughout the tiny room and shelves loaded down with various paint supplies. Skylar is sitting on a workbench along the far wall, her face buried in her hands. I walk up to her silently, place the heels on the bench next to her, and run my fingers gently down one arm. She flinches slightly, not realizing she was followed. When she looks up at me, her sadness becomes my own. Her eyes are red, her cheeks stained with tears, and she’s still the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. I vow, right then, to do my best to make sure I never make her cry again.

I reach up and cup her cheek, swiping a tear away with my thumb. She stares into my eyes, her lips parting slightly. I accept her silent invitation and claim her mouth with mine.

Chapter 7

Skylar

Just a couple of seconds ago, it felt like my life was ruined. I was shattered, tormented by a nightmare that had happened years ago.

But now? Now the pain and the fear are gone, replaced by a fiery passion that ignited deep inside my soul and spread throughout my entire body.

Logan looked into my eyes and I saw my pain echoed there. This wonderful man thought he was the source of my pain. I was going to tell him it wasn’t his fault, but his lips were on mine before I could utter a single word, and now I’m lost within his kiss. When his tongue pressed against my lips, I gladly invited him in, my body humming with excitement as he kisses me so passionately that my toes curl. One hand rests gently against my face while his other hand runs through my long blonde curls. My fingers fumble with the button of his tuxedo jacket and then claw at his chest through his white silk shirt. I wrap my legs around his hips and pull him closer, my panties becoming wet with arousal when he growls into my mouth.

He breaks the kiss and pulls away, his eyes filled with lust as he reaches for me. He tugs the thin straps of my dress down my shoulders and then pulls my dress down, revealing my bare breasts, my hard nipples. I moan as he clamps his lips tightly around one, his tongue flicking across the sensitive flesh.

Frustrated with not being able to feel him, I grab his shirt and rip it open, a tiny tap-tap-tap sound filling the room as buttons go flying. I anxiously pull his t-shirt from his pants and slide my hands under the cotton, my moans deepening when I feel his washboard abs beneath my fingers.

He growls around my nipple, nipping me with his teeth as I slide my hands further up his magnificent-feeling chest, my nails digging into his firm pecs.

His lips move to my other nipple, sucking it hard into his mouth, as one of his hands slides under my dress. He growls when his fingers make contact with my wet panties.

“So fucking wet,” he says softly, his voice deep with lust. “Is this pussy wet for me, Skylar?”

Without waiting for an answer, he curls his fingers around the cotton strip blocking him from what he wants and tears the material from my body, dropping what used to my panties to the floor. He kisses his way from my breasts up to my neck, his lips and tongue leaving a trail of fire across my skin. He slides his fingers up and down my wet slit, teasingly grazing my clit each time he moves up. I groan, trying to press against his hand, my body craving more from him.

“Tell me, Skylar,” he whispers against my neck. “Tell me your pussy is wet for me.”

I gasp as he slowly slides a finger around my throbbing clit, my inner muscles clenching. “My pussy is wet for you, Logan.”

Slowly, so fucking slowly, his fingers slide down, pressing at my entrance.

“This pussy belongs to me now, Skylar. Yes?”

He slides just the tip of his finger inside me.

“Fuck yes,” I moan, my legs trembling around him. “It’s your pussy. Only yours.”

He slides his finger deep inside me, curling it up and touching a spot I never imagined existed. “Good girl,” Logan says. His finger strokes inside me, hitting that spot over and over. My orgasm washes over me before I’m even aware it’s coming.

“Oh god, yes!” I scream, not caring if anyone outside this room can hear me.

Logan nips at my neck as his thumb presses against my clit, his finger still rocking back and forth deep inside me.

“Oh fuck,” I gasp. “Again. Oh shit. I’m going to come again” I squeeze my eyes shut, my nails digging into his flesh. I squeeze my thighs against his hand, pinning him there as another wave of pure orgasmic bliss crashes over me, sending fireworks off behind my eyes. I try to ignore the vivid colors exploding in my mind’s eye: the reds, the blues, and the yellows.

My eyes snap open and I push against Logan’s broad chest. There’s no way my tiny hands could move him if he didn’t want to be moved, but he moves back slowly, his brow wrinkled with confusion and concern. My body screams at me, begging me to give in for once and just enjoy the moment, and I want to. God, I want to. I’m panting heavily, my legs are still trembling, and I want nothing more than to feel his mouth and hands on me again. But I want so much more, too, and that’s the problem. I know one moment, one night, won’t be enough with this man. I want it all. An entire lifetime. And that’s not fair to him. I’m damaged, and he deserves more than that.

I slide down from the counter, pulling the top of my dress up my body, holding back a groan as the material slides across my hard sensitive nipples.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “You deserve better.” I step around him, running from the demons of my past again. He calls my name, but I don’t look back. If I look back, I might stop, and that’s something I can’t do. It’s better to wonder about what might have been than see rejection in his eyes when he learns how broken I am.

Chapter 8

Logan

Damn it! Once more, I watch Skylar run away. I saw the way she looked at me, felt how her body responded to my touch. She’s not running from me, but something else. Something that makes her feel broken. I shake my head.

I’m used to women throwing themselves at me, willing to do anything to enjoy time in my world of wealth and power, and this woman, this beautiful woman who has slipped under my skin like an itch I can’t scratch has run away twice. It won’t happen a third time.

With a frustrated sigh, I head back to the main gallery. I’m not surprised to see Skylar’s friend, Cyndie, waiting for me. I’m also not surprised by her words.

“She left,” she says, shrugging. “It’s going to sound cliché, but it’s not you; it’s her.”

“She said she’s a freak.” I hate saying the words, hate that she feels this way about herself.

Her friend grimaces and nods. “There’s a story there, but it’s not mine to tell.

“Tell me where to find her and she can tell me the story herself.”

She smiles a sad smile and the regret in her eyes reveals the answer before she says anything. “I’d like to . . . but I can’t.” She shrugs. “Girl code. and Best Friend code.”

“I’ll give you five thousand dollars for her home address,” I say.

She smiles. “The fact that you pull out the big guns without starting with something like a hundred bucks says a lot about how you feel about her.” She pats my shoulder. “I hope you find her.” She starts to walk off but then she stops and looks back at me. “I was going to help her pack up her . . . Umbra’s paintings in the morning” — she winks — “but I think I’m going to be busy so she’ll be here by herself. Just in case any serious talk . . . or anything else happens.” She flashes me another smile and walks off.

With a sigh of regret, I walk out to my car. Usually, sliding behind the wheel of my BMW Z4 puts a smile on my face, but not now. Now, after all these years, I know what my life has been missing. I know what I’ve been searching for. All I have to do is find her and let her know that.

An image of her in the back room flashes through my mind, her moaning loudly as I finger-fucked her through her second orgasm. I growl, my grip tightening on the steering wheel, my cock growing uncomfortably hard within my pants. I look around. The parking lot is still filled with cars, most of the patrons still enjoying the art and free drinks, unaware of the drama that unfolded around them. I unzip my pants and my throbbing cock springs into the air, the bulbous head slick with precum.

I wrap my fingers around my shaft and slowly start stroking, images of Skylar flying through my head. Her sharp intake of breath when she first noticed me looking at her, her pert breasts revealed before my eyes for the first time, capped with nipples as hard as diamonds, begging for me to suckle them, the delicious sounds she made as I tore her panties from her body and plunged my fingers inside her tight hot pussy. I groan and lean my head back, my hand a blur as it slides up and down my shaft. I growl, deep and low, as I come, my hips thrusting into the air as my silk dress shirt is coated with my seed.

I slowly relax back against the seat, breathing heavy. I chuckle softly. When’s the last time I jerked off in my car? Never. I have to find Skylar. I have to make her mine.

Chapter 9

Skylar

I wipe my arm across my forehead, wiping away a layer of sweat as I look at the painting I just took down and leaned against the wall. This was the biggest one out of all the ones I brought to the gallery. Well, the self-portrait was the biggest, but there’s nothing but blank wall space where it was hanging. I try not to think too much about that.

Fortunately, I’m not having to pack up as much as I did for the trip up here. At least half my inventory sold last night, and that puts a huge smile on my face. Umbra is as popular with live showings as she is online. It was a perfect night. Except for the part where a man gave me the best oral sex I could imagine right before I ran away from him. And not just any man. Logan ‘The Collector’ Brighton. A god in the art world. I shake my head. If you’re going to fuck up, might as well fuck up in the biggest way possible, right?

“I guess I’m a little late.”

I turn toward the door, my pulse speeding up. I’d recognize that sexy deep voice anywhere. Logan is standing just inside the door, looking as delicious as sin in tight jeans and a t-shirt that hugs his impressive chest. I run my hand across my lips, checking for drool, as I admire his bulging biceps. The tuxedo from last night was misleading. I knew he was big, but I had no idea he was BIG! My traitorous eyes drop down between his legs. Yep. The man is definitely big all over. I force myself to look back up at his face.

“Hi,” I say, resisting the urge to run again. Why is he here? Why now? He looks like sex on a stick and I look like I’ve spent the last hour packing up paintings. I’m sweating, I’m not wearing makeup, and my frazzled hair is being somewhat controlled by being forced into a ponytail.

“I wanted to help you pack,” he says, and looks around at the bare walls. “Looks like I’m a little late.”

I nod. “Yeah, they have to set up for another show in a little while.” I narrow my eyes at him. “How did you know I’d be here?”

He smiles. “Your friend told me you’d be here.”

I mutter a few choice words about my ‘friend’.

His smile widens. “Don’t be too angry with her. I offered her five thousand dollars for your address.” He shrugs. “She turned it down.”

I blink. I had to hear that wrong. Or maybe I owe Cyn a really nice birthday present.

“Why did you want my address?”

“I wanted to invite you over for dinner.”

Yeah, right. “Just dinner?”

He flashes a mischievous grin. “I thought we could see where the evening might take us.”

His eyes roam slowly up and down my body, and I squeeze my thighs together at the sudden warmth between my legs. “That could be interesting,” I say, my voice a bit breathy.

His eyes flash, revealing the same hunger he had last night. He pulls a card from his back pocket and places it on the empty reception desk near the door. “My place. Tonight. Seven.” His eyes manhandle my body again, and then he turns and leaves. I gasp when I see how those tight jeans hug his ass. And that voice, that dominant tone. As if there’s no chance I’d say no to his dinner . . . invitation? No. More like a dinner demand. And he’s right.

I make up my mind right there, as butterflies take flight in my tummy and a hungry fire ignites between my legs, my mind going back to our time in the back room. It doesn’t matter that I’m broken. I want this man. I know I can’t have forever with him, but dammit, I’m going to have one night with him.

Chapter 10

Logan

I wipe my hands on the dish towel, glancing at the clock as I hear a tentative knock at the front door. I smile. She’s right on time.

As I approach the door, I can tell she’s nervous. I see her blurry outline shift her weight from one foot to the other through the frosted glass in the door.

I open the door and forget to breathe for a minute or two. She’s dressed in a form-fitting white dress that hugs her curves in all the right places. Her hard nipples press against the material as her eyes roam up and down my body. A slow smile spreads across her face before she meets my eyes and blushes.

“You look just as handsome in jeans and a t-shirt as you do a suit,” she says softly.

I smile and step back, inviting her in with a gesture. “And you look just as . . . delicious as you did the first time I laid eyes on you.”

Her blush deepens and I resist the urge to tear her dress from her body and take her right there.

And then I decide, fuck it. Dinner can wait. I’m hungry for dessert. She gasps as I press her against the wall, my lips crashing against hers. She moans as my tongue dances with hers. I slide my hands down and around, taking her luscious ass in my hands and pulling her tight against me.

I break the kiss and nip her jaw. “I can’t wait any longer. I fucking need you. Now.”

Before she has a chance to respond, I sweep her off the floor. She squeals. “Oh my god,” she says breathlessly. “Put me down. You’ll hurt yourself.”

I chuckle. “Oh. I’ll put you down all right.”

I carry her into my bedroom and toss her on the bed. Immediately, I pull my shirt off and kick off my shoes. I nod at her. “That dress looks great on you. It’ll look even better on the floor next to the bed.”

A slow smile spreads on her face, her eyes flashing with hunger as she stares at my muscular chest. She quickly slides out of her dress and I can’t help but groan. She’s wearing a bra and panties that are lacy and as white as freshly fallen snow. She looks so fucking pure and innocent. And I can’t wait to corrupt her.

I unbutton my jeans and let them fall. Skylar gasps as my thick cock stands tall, bobbing in the air toward her.

“Fuck me,” she says softly.

I join her on the bed. “That’s the idea, beautiful.”

Chapter 11

Skylar

Holy hell. Logan’s long, thick cock fills my vision as he crawls onto the bed, looking at me like a predator look at prey. And I can’t help but imagine that throbbing shaft filling something else. If it’s able to. It has to be too big. I mean, I’m not a virgin but I never imagined a cock this big existing outside of porn movies.

Logan takes my legs and raises them in the air, resting my ankles on his broad shoulders. He kisses my left ankle, and then my right, alternating as he slowly begins working his way up. I tremble as I watch him, his eyes never leaving mine. The soft but insistent press of his lips against my skin makes me shiver in the most delicious way.

As he works his way higher, he slowly lowers his body, until his magnificent chest is against the mattress as his slow trek up my legs continues. I bite back a gasp when he gets above my knees and a wicked smile slowly appears on his lips. When he reaches my thighs, his tongue joins the party, lightly flicking against my skin as he moves closer and closer to my center, which is now throbbing with an irresistible need.

I moan as Logan’s mouth finally reaches its destination, my eyes devouring his muscular shoulder and back as he licks my juices from thighs.

“So fucking good,” Logan moans before running his tongue up my slit from my ass to my clit.

“Oh god,” I gasp, grasping the cover on the bed with shaky fingers as he slowly runs his tongue up and down my pussy lips.

I reach down and run my fingers through Logan’s dark hair as his tongue traces an agonizingly slow circle around my clit and moan his name when he slowly slides a finger inside me.

“I want to taste you again,” Logan says before wrapping his lips around my clit and sucking it into his mouth.

My fingers tighten in his hair, my nails scraping his scalp, as heat built deep in my core. “Logan,” I gasp, panting heavily. I groan as another finger enters me, his fingers moving faster. The tip of his tongue attacks my clit as he continues sucking it between his lips. “Oh god,” I groan, my orgasm approaching like a runaway train. I arch my back, raising my hips, pressing my pussy against his face, as I come. Logan moans, moving down slightly, catching my essence with his lips and tongue.

I release his hair from the death grip I had it in as he slides up my body, covering my hips and tummy and breasts with kisses until his hips are between mine. I moan as the thick head of his cock slides between my pussy lips.

“I need you,” I whisper.

“You have me,” Logan says, his gray eyes staring intently into mine. He slides one hand down my side, sending a shiver of desire through me, and then raises that leg up, resting it on his broad shoulder. Before I can ask about this new position, he slowly presses forward, his thick cock stretching me wide.

I moan, long and low, my brain short-circuiting as pure pleasure courses through my body. I feel fuller than I’ve ever felt in my life, and still Logan presses on. I wrap my arms around him, digging my nails into his back. I squeeze my eyes shut as the pressure builds in me, like a balloon about to pop. Logan growls as he finally slides himself fully inside me, and that simple sound of primal satisfaction sends me over the edge.

Before I even have a chance to recover, Logan begins sliding his full length in and out of me. My toes curl and I drag my nails down his back as another orgasm follows the last one. “Coming,” I gasp. “Coming, coming, coming.”

I scream his name as his pace increases. I feel his full balls slap my ass. For a second, I realize we didn’t use protection. And then I come again and I don’t give a fuck. I’d gladly have this sex god’s babies.

Without slowing down, Logan leans down, pressing his lips to mine. I can taste myself on his tongue before he pulls back, a fierce look on his face. “Tell me you’re mine.”

“I’m yours,” I moan, his thick cock driving me toward another orgasm.

“And I’m yours,” he growls, slamming into me with a final thrust as he spills his seed inside me.

The orgasm I had been holding back, waiting for him, escapes from me and my mind shatters in bliss.

Chapter 12

Skylar

I snuggle against Logan’s chest, my body still basking in the glow of our lovemaking. And that’s what it was. I thought I’d be content with one night. But now I know one night will never be enough. His arm is a comforting weight that holds me close to him. I could wait until he falls asleep and sneak out. Run from flaws once again. But I can’t do that. Just the thought of being without him makes me feel empty inside. And I want more than one night with him, I have to risk losing everything. I have to tell him the truth.

I sit up in bed, pulling the sheet over my bare breasts, which seems silly after what we just did, but I can’t help it. “I have a confession to make.”

“You’re going to run away again as soon as my back is turned?” He smiles, joking, unaware of how desperately I want to do exactly that.

“I’m broken,” I say. I look at him, nibbling on my bottom lip nervously.

Logan loses the smile and sits up with me, reaching out and taking my hand in his. “You’ve mentioned that.” He squeezes my hand. “What makes you think that?”

I close my eyes, the moment that changed my life flashing through my memory. I open my eyes and look at him, momentarily getting lost in his steel-gray eyes. “I have a question . . . but I’ll only ask it if you promise just to answer it. No questions or anything about it.”

Logan nods. “You can ask me anything.”

“Are your eyes really gray?”

His eyes look into mine. He pauses for just a second, and then I see a flicker of something. I’m not sure what, but it almost looks like he just realized something.

He smiles. “Yes, they are.”

I nod, relieved, unable to keep the small smile off my face. It’s nice to know I’m seeing the actual color when I look at him. I nod again, bracing myself. “I’m Umbra.”

He nods, that flicker of understanding appearing in his gaze again. “You have achromatopsia.”

I blink. “How . . . just how?”

Logan smiles. “When I’m not hanging around art galleries, I run Brighton Medical, a medical tech firm.”

“Oh. Wow. My mom has one of your artificial heart valves.”

He nods. “The company explores a wide range of medical disciplines.” he reaches out and caresses my cheek. “Were you born with it?”

I shake my head. “When I was in elementary school, around the Fourth of July, some jackass threw a firecracker at me. Maybe he was being a dick, maybe it was an accident. Either way, it exploded right in front of my face. I was completely blind for about a month. When my vision came back” — I shrug — “I saw a world without color.”

“That doesn’t mean you’re broken.”

I start to object but his lips capture mine as he lays me back down. His hand slides between my legs. “You think you’re broken because you only see black and white?” His fingers slowly slide up and down my suddenly wet slit. “You think maybe you don’t have talent because you’re somehow ‘cheating’ with what you paint?” His thumb presses against my clit as he slides a finger inside me. I moan as my inner muscles clench around the intruder.

“Your way of using shades of black and white to capture a scene is unique,” he says, beginning to slowly move his finger in and out of my tight channel. “I’ve seen others try but none come close to capturing the depth and detail that you do. It’s a rare talent.” His finger moves faster. “You’re very talented.” He leans over me and flicks his tongue across a hard nipple. “You just can’t accept it . . . but you will.”

His tongue traces a slow circle around my other nipple, and then his finger begins to slow down. I gasp, squeezing my thighs against his arm as he pulls back until just the tip of his finger rests within the walls of my throbbing pussy.

“No,” I whine, desperate for release. “I need you. Don’t stop.”

Logan’s thumb ghosts lightly over my clit. I arch my hips against him, moaning.

“Please, Logan,” I gasp. “I need to come.”

He smiles, sliding just a bit more of his finger inside me. “And you will. Just as soon as you say you’re not broken.”

I groan, trying to slide down against his hand, trying to capture more of him, but his finger retreats with every forward movement I make. “Logan,” I gasp. I shake my head, desire and doubt warring inside me.

Without any warning, Logan’s finger pistons in and out of my hungry pussy three times hard and fast. Just three times. And then he stops.

“I’m. Not. Broken,” Logan whispers, his thumb sliding slowly up and down my slit.

I grab his arms, my nails sinking into his biceps. I know I can’t hurt him but I squeeze tight anyway, leaving little half moons in his skin. My body’s on fire, my pussy throbbing, desperate to be filled, to be fucked. I’m panting like I just ran a mile. I’m right on the edge, just needing the slightest touch to send me over. I’ve never needed to be fucked so bad in my life.

“I’m not broken,” I say softly, my voice barely above a whisper.

His finger begins moving in and out of my hot channel. Slowly. So excruciatingly slow. “Louder,” he says.

“I’m not broken,” I gasp out, just a little louder.

I groan when his finger slows down.

“Not enough,” he says.

“I’m not broken,” I shout at the top of my lungs. “I’m not broken, and I need to come. Please, Logan, make me come. I’m not broken. I just need — fuccck!”

With a sexy smirk on his face, Logan begins fingerfucking me like a man possessed. His thumb brushes over my clit as he slides another finger inside, curling them up. I can’t hold back a long low moan as he applies just the right amount of pressure to my g-spot.

“You’re not broken,” Logan says, his voice ragged and harsh, thick with lust. “You’re talented. And you’re beautiful. And you’re mine, Skylar. All mine.” His mouth captures mine in a hungry kiss as I come around his fingers. I moan loudly into his mouth, my orgasm still racking my body as he slides between my legs, his thick cock sliding in, filling me, giving me what I need.

Epilogue

Skylar

One year later . . .

“Sky! Come see.”

I walk quickly down the hall, anxious to see. I enter the room that used to be an empty spare bedroom, adjusting my glasses on my nose as I slide them on.

Logan is standing at the far wall, dressed in paint-spattered jeans and a white t-shirt that clings to his muscles. He’s holding a paint roller in one hand, looking at me with a big smile on his face. “What do you think?”

I look at the sunshine-yellow streaks on the wall and smile. “It’s perfect. The sun will shine through the windows in the morning and make the whole room bright and cheery.”

It’s fitting because it captures perfectly how I felt when the pregnancy test said we were expecting. I pull the glasses off and set them on the chest of drawers against the wall. They were a wedding present from Brighton Medical. I don’t wear them all the time, even though I could. Although they let me see color, I’m used to my world of blacks and grays and whites. However, there are times when it’s nice to see color, like when your husband is showing off what color the nursery will be. It will be especially nice to not have to ask what color our son or daughter’s eyes are.

Logan comes up and kisses me passionately. I moan, feeling that familiar heat between my legs. “I want you,” I whisper against his cheek.

“I want you too,” he says, flashing me a grin. “I want you to get out of here.” He waves at the door. “Go on. You’re pregnant with our child. You don’t need to be smelling paint fumes.”

I give him another quick kiss and let him shoo me out of the room. I flash him a wink as I walk out the door, beginning to slowly unbutton my shirt. “We’ve got seven months before the baby arrives. Feel like taking a break?” I drop my shirt in the hall and disappear around the corner. I smile as I hear the paint roller drop on the floor.

◆◆◆

The Artist

Cyndie:

I’m expecting a nice, quiet week while watching my parents’ house and pets while they go on vacation, but that’s before I learn the older man next door looks a lot hotter than I remember him being. He used to be a lawyer but he left that high-pressure lifestyle to be an artist. The short hair and clean shave have been replaced by long hair and a rugged look that makes my heart beat just a little bit faster. Would he be interested in a younger woman with a few curves here and there?

Derek:

The girl next door has grown up, and the look in her eye suggests she doesn’t mind that my hair has a bit of gray in it. I can’t help but paint her when I see her working on her tan in the back yard, and I also can’t help taking matters in my own hands. It’s been too long and she’s too beautiful to resist, but then she catches me in the act. When there’s a knock at the door, I know it’s her. I could deny doing what she caught me doing but why deny how she makes me feel?

Chapter 1

Cyndie

The German Shepherd charges at me, all teeth and shiny eyes. It’s enough to make most people run for the hills. I kneel down and open my arms wide. Bruno, my parents’ big fur baby who looks a lot meaner than he is, crashes into me, rocking me back on my heels.

“Who’s a good boy?” I coo into his ear as he covers me in slobbery doggie kisses.

Bruno drops and rolls over onto his back, letting me know that he’s a good body and he deserves a belly rub. I oblige the spoiled dog and climb back on my feet. Cleopatra, my parents’ cat, looks at me from the bar, the look on her black and white face letting me know there’s no way she’ll ever stoop to such theatrics. Instead, she waits for me to come to her.

I pick up my bag that I had dropped to the floor when Bruno greeted me and close the front door behind me. “Still queen of the castle,” I say to the cat as I scratch her behind her left ear. She purrs contentedly.

I sigh as I look around the house. “Home sweet home.” Not really. At least not for a couple of years. But there was just something comforting about being back where I grew up, seeing the little hash marks on the wall at the edge of the hallway as my parents documented my height through the years. They didn’t have to do much documenting since I only made it to 5’ 1”.

I casually stroll through the living room and glance out the window into the backyard. A slow smile spreads across my face. It’s not like I was going to tell my parents no when they asked me to pet-sit while they went to Hawaii for their twenty-fifth wedding anniversary, but the timing couldn’t have been better.

I had recently gone out with a guy who turned out to be a nightmare. All it took was one date to bring out the ugly, with Mr. God’s-Gift-To-Women confessing that he usually didn’t go for larger girls but he was willing to “give me a try” because he liked my feisty personality. Unfortunately, his fragile ego couldn’t handle me telling him no and he suddenly became Creepy Stalker Dude. According to his last text message, he was determined to show me “a good time” whether I was interested or not. The next text message after that was my mom asking about house-sitting. Easiest choice I’ve ever made in my life.

I shake my head, sighing. I really should know better. My nice guy radar is all kinds of fucked up. Not too long ago, I set my best friend up with someone I had worked with at an old job. Turns out his idea of a good time was making fun of her because of an accident that left her unable to see colors.

So, of course, if I can’t pick a winner for my best friend, I certainly can’t pick a decent guy for myself. Serves me right though. That’s what I get for going out with a model.

I look at the swimming pool in the backyard and smile. That’s a nice bit of incentive too. Don’t get me wrong. I love being on my own but the swimming pool at my apartment complex leaves a lot to be desired.

I kiss my fingers and press them to the window. “Tomorrow, baby. You and me.” Until then, it’s dinner, Netflix, and cuddling with the fur babies. But first, I reach for my back pocket. Nothing. I check my purse. Nothing again. With a sigh, I head back out to my car. Sure enough, my cellphone is laying on the passenger seat. I grab it and notice a jogger running by as I close my car door.

Hubba hubba zing zing. I hear a soft moan escape my lips as my eyes lock on to the man’s thick thighs. His running shorts are tight and I bite my lower lip as I watch those magnificent muscles flex. And that ass. Damn! My mind instantly imagines what that ass would feel like in my hands as he drives into me. I forcibly tear my eyes away and focus on his upper body, which is just as mouthwatering. His t-shirt hugs broad shoulders and thick biceps. I squeeze my thighs together, suddenly feeling very warm and very slick. Where has this guy been all my life, and would he think it’s weird to suddenly have a jogging buddy?

My mouth drops open when he jogs into the next-door neighbor’s yard, stopping a few feet from the porch to bend and stretch. It’s Mr. Wilson. Holy crap. I’d spent most of my teenage years learning about the joy of masturbation while imagining my parents’ neighbor doing all kinds of naughty things to me, but he hadn’t been nearly as built as he is now, and his hair was always cut short back then. Nice and tidy, almost a buzz cut. Now he wears his hair longer, and it’s sexy as hell, giving him a slightly rough look. He reaches into the pocket of his shorts and pulls out a key, and then he notices me looking — just looking, definitely not staring — at him. He smiles and waves. After a few seconds I wave back. Or rather, I lift my hand into the air. It’s still there when the door closes behind him. After a few seconds, I realize this and drop it back down, feeling like an idiot.

“My mom and dad’s neighbor is super hot,” I mutter to myself as I head back inside. “My childhood crush is super hot.” I knew I should’ve packed my vibrator.

Chapter 2

Derek

A slow smile spreads across my face as I sip my coffee. There’s just something special about that first cup of coffee. I glance at the clock. 8:30 a.m. My smile grows bigger. It’s especially nice when I get to drink that first cup on my schedule instead of someone else’s.

In a previous life, in the not too distant past, I’d be elbow-deep in stress, legal documents, and self-righteous asshole clients by now. I might not have the bank account now that I had when I worked as an attorney, but I also don’t have high blood pressure, ulcers, or a general distaste for life in general. Plus, it’s not like I’m exactly hurting financially. Smart spending combined with smart investing has paid off, and I’m even making some money with my hobby, which is still a pleasant surprise.

I head upstairs to the second floor and enter my studio. Actually, “studio” might be too grand a word for the cluttered room with shelves weighed down by art books and paint supplies and a few canvases of various sizes leaning against three of the four walls. The uncluttered floor space near that fourth wall is where my easel is, right next to the window that looks down into the backyard. The window is in just the right position to get indirect sunlight almost all day long, making it the perfect spot to paint.

Taking a seat on the stool in front of the easel, I sit my coffee cup on the little side table and prepare my paint palette with the colors I’ll be working with today. Attached to the canvas is a photo of a birdbath with two cardinals and a bluebird on it. I took the picture just a few days ago, knowing I wanted to paint the scene as soon as I saw it. I’d started the painting yesterday and I figured I’d probably finish it later today. That would give it time to dry in time for the sidewalk art sell at the park this weekend.

Movement out of the corner of my eye gets my attention and I glance out the window, inhaling sharply at the sight in the neighbors’ backyard. The Cramers had let me know they’d be out of town for a few days and that their daughter — Cyndie, I recall her mom saying — would be house- and pet-sitting for them. I had assumed that was who I saw last night after my jog, but it had already started getting dark and I was busy thinking about how nice my post-workout shower was going to feel.

Now, however . . . WOW! I vaguely remembered a short nervous little girl knocking on my door every year to sell me Girl Scout cookies, but the curvy woman spreading a towel near the pool wearing a dark blue bikini is a long way from the little girl in my memory.

Her dark hair is cut in a bob that is almost but not quite long enough to reach her shoulders, and her flawless skin has me reaching for my coffee to soothe a suddenly dry throat. The girl is simply stunning, and it’s like even the sun knows it, it’s golden rays gently kissing her skin.

I pull the canvas with the birdbath off the easel and prop it against the wall. Without taking my eyes off the vision lounging by the pool, I place a new canvas in front of me. I grab another palette and quickly load it with the colors I need. I alternate from looking at her to looking at the image being created before me. It’s like my hands are possessed as the image begins to form.

At one point, I glance down and she’s changed position, sitting up to apply lotion. I freeze, even holding my breath, as she squeezes the round tube and lets the lotion fall on her skin.

I hold back a groan as I watch her spread suntan lotion on her arms, shoulders, and legs. I feel my cock thicken when she puts the white cream on her exposed cleavage.

“Goddamn,” I mutter, standing up and moving toward the window for a better look. Her freshly lotioned skin glistens under the morning sun as she looks around, her eyes hidden behind large sunglasses. After scanning the yard, she reaches up and unhooks her top, dropping it next to her. She squeezes more lotion onto her breasts and begins rubbing it in.

I groan and press my forehead to the glass as I unzip my jeans, my hand finding its way inside my boxer briefs. I wrap my fingers around my throbbing shaft and slowly stroke my cock, licking my lips as I imagine teasing her nipples with my tongue until they stand up for me. I close my eyes, my hand sliding faster. I imagine feasting on her large breasts until she’s panting and then slowly working my way down her body, positioning myself between her thighs and pulling that tiny bikini bottom to the side. My balls tighten and I open my eyes, intent on memorizing every detail of her body as I come. My eyes meet hers. One hand is across her breasts and her sunglasses are pulled down to the tip of her nose as she stares up at me, frowning. I grunt and my hips jerk as I coat the lower windowpanes with my cum.

She climbs to her feet, wraps the towel around herself, and looks up toward me one last time as she storms into the house. “Fuck!” I whisper softly as she disappears from view. She might be out of sight, but she’s not out of mind. And she never will be. No boys around her age would know what to do with a beauty like her. No, she needs a man. Her parents are gone for two weeks. Before they come back, she’ll be mine.

Chapter 3

Cyndie

Goddammit. I knew I was being watched before I took my top off, but I didn’t see anybody so figured it was just my nerves. I should’ve known it would be my asshole neighbor, Donny. The little perv was always trying to get a peek at me when I was little. Why should things be any different now? And while I couldn’t see him clearly, I saw enough to know his arm was moving. The little asshat was jerking off. Ugh.

Giving him one final glare, I storm inside. The rat bastard. What’s really frustrating about it is that I’d probably be flattered if it was anyone else. I’m short and curvy. All those curves are in all the right places, and I do get more than my fair share of attention from guys, even if those guys would probably do a better job of guessing my bra size than guessing the color of my eyes. Still, the idea of a guy getting hot and bothered enough to stroke his cock while looking at me is enough to make me feel sexy . . . and a little hot and bothered myself.

But Dipshit Donny. Ugh! Now that perv will be spanking it while thinking of my tits. Why couldn’t it be his hot dad drooling over me? For a second, my mind is filled with how he looked last night, those tight jogging shorts hugging his thick muscular thighs, those biceps as big as my head. A big man like that . . . is probably big all over, right? I lick my lips, trying to imagine his cock, and I squeeze my thighs together as a blast of lust hits me right between my legs. I quickly stomp that thought out. Nope. Not going there. No need to wander down that road. He has a wife.

After putting my bikini top back on, I try to focus on something — anything — to take my mind off Mr. Wilson. And the best way to stop thinking about something sexy is to think about something irritating. Donny. Little pervy Donny, who’s obviously still living at home in the same bedroom he lived in when we were in high school. A slow smile spreads across my face. Time to put the little perv in his place. I head toward the front door, ready to march across next door and give him a piece of my mind. I briefly consider finding a t-shirt or something to wear but quickly decide against it. I want him to look. Just so I can tell him to stop looking. The creep.

I slip on a pair of sandals and make the journey to my next door neighbor’s house. Will Donny open the door? Will one of his parents? Should I tell his parents what he was doing? So many options to ruin the little perv’s life.

I knock on the door — three solid sharp knocks — and tell myself I am not going to imagine Mr. Wilson opening the door and dragging me inside to have his wicked way with me after he sees me in this bikini that barely conceals my curvy body. Yeah. Right. I can already feel myself getting wet, the fantasy running on a little movie screen inside my head.

Shifting nervously from one foot to the other, I’m unable to decide if I’d prefer for Donny or Mr. Wilson to answer the door. Mrs. Wilson, I decide. It would be best if the woman of the house answered the door. But then she might think I was trying to put the moves on her husband or son — Ugh — by showing up in nothing but a bikini and sandals.

A flash of something sparks in my memory. I frown, not quite recalling it. For some reason, it seems important. My eyes widen as it finally comes to me.

I vaguely remember that, at some point during our visits and telephone conversations, Mom had mentioned the neighbors had gotten divorced, and that the mom and son had moved to another city. I didn’t think much of it at the time, my childhood crush firmly locked away with other childhood memories. But now? The woman had divorced a guy who looked like that? She was obviously crazy.

I gasp as I realize what else that means. Pervy Donny wasn’t the one watching me from the second-floor window. He wasn’t the one jerking off while watching me.

Whoa! The super sexy guy from last night was stroking his cock while looking at me? A flash of heat makes my clit throb and I can’t help but wonder what his cock looks like, what it would look like to see him jerk off. Did he come?

I suddenly remember I’m standing at his front door. Holy hell, this is not a conversation I want to have. I start to step back, but it’s too late. The door opens. I look up, and then up some more, and my heart does some funny little thing where it seems to stop for a second and then beat twice real fast to catch back up with the rest of my body. I lick my suddenly dry lips and squeeze my thighs together as a warm flush rushes over my entire body.

I know I saw him last night, but — DAMN — I honestly don’t remember him being as big as he is. The man towers over me by at least a foot and a half and he’s almost as broad as the door. It’s still strange to see him with long hair. He’s let it grow out, almost to his shoulders, giving him a sexy unkempt look. My fingers itch with the need to feel that hair. I want to run my hands through his curly locks, preferably while he has me in a passionate kiss, or maybe when his head is buried between my thighs.

Giving myself a mental shake to clear those images from my mind, I clear my throat. I open my mouth to talk. Close it. And then try again.

“Good morning, Mr. Wilson.”

Chapter 4

Derek

It’s her. Holy fuck, it’s her. Standing right in front of me in her tiny bikini. I just blasted a load of cum all over the window in my studio just a few minutes ago but I’m ready to go again, my hard cock straining uncomfortably against my gym shorts. I hear her call me Mr. Wilson and that just won’t do. There’s no need to be so formal when I’m imagining bending her over and stuffing her full until she comes all over my shaft.

“Derek,” I say, smiling at her, and hoping the smile doesn’t come across as creepy or pervy. Hard to believe it appears as innocent as I hope since I can’t decide whether to stare at her nice big tits or her gorgeous eyes, which are such a light gray they almost seem to be silver.

“I’m sorry?” she says, blinking at me.

I force my eyes to focus on her face and clear my throat. “It’s Derek. After all, we’re both adults, right?”

She licks her lips as something flashes through her eyes. “Yeah,” she says. She rocks from one foot to the other. “We’re both adults.”

“But that’s no reason to run around looking like that?”

She raises an eyebrow, sticking one hip out and resting her hand on it. “I beg your pardon?”

I can see the fire in her eyes and I grin. This is going to be fun.

“The bikini,” I say. “You’re absolutely stunning, and that’s dangerous.” I nod my head toward the road behind her. “Just imagine if a guy went driving by right now. He’d see that fine ass in that tiny bikini bottom and have a wreck . . . or maybe even a heart attack.”

She rolls her eyes and giggles. “Yeah, right.” Her cheeks are an adorable shade of pink.

“And you laugh,” I say, a chuckle in my voice. “You think it’s funny to cause accidents with your sexy as sin body?” I lean toward her, all humor gone from my voice now. “Are you a bad girl, Cyndie? Or should I call you Cyn?”

She gulps, her eyes wide. Her lips are parted slightly and her breathing is more ragged than it was. I glance down and see her hard nipples pressing against her bikini top. “Cyn,” she whispers breathily. “Definitely Cyn.”

I lean closer and press my lips to hers. She tenses for just a moment and then relaxes, moaning against my mouth as I tease her lips with my tongue. Before she can respond, I break the kiss and step back, gesturing for her to come in. “Bad girls need to be punished, Cyn. Bad girls deserve a spanking. Don’t they?”

She nods slowly and steps inside the door, her eyes never leaving mine.

I reach over her shoulder to push the front door shut. She tilts her head back and looks at me beneath hooded eyes. She licks her lips. There’s no way I can resist that invitation. I lean down and claim her mouth with mine, taking her in my arms and pulling her close. Even through my clothes, I can feel her bare skin and it ignites a flame within me that burns like nothing I’ve ever felt before. I growl into her mouth as I slide my hands down to her curvy ass and lift her off the floor. She breaks the kiss with a squeal as her feet leave the ground.

“Oh my god,” she says, her gray-silver eyes wide. “Put me down. You’ll hurt yourself.”

“Don’t worry about me, little girl,” I say. “I’ve got you.”

She wraps her legs around my waist as I carry her into the living room, dropping her head on my shoulder as the fingers of one hand slide across her ass cheek and slip beneath her bikini bottom. She’s hot and slick for me, and I growl against her ear. “So fucking wet, baby. Is that for me?”

She moans and nods as I slide the tip of my finger into her hot core. The smell of her arousal has my cock throbbing, but there will be time for that later. Right now, there’s another matter to take care of. It’s time for the naughty girl to receive her punishment. She has to learn this sexy body of hers is mine and there’s no need to parade around in a tiny bikini in people’s front yards for the whole world to see.

She mewls as I set her down. I motion toward the couch. “Get on your knees and lean over the back of the couch.”

Her eyes grow wide. I don’t think she realized I was serious about the spanking, but she knows I’m serious now.

Chapter 5

Cyndie

I blink at the man standing before me, the memory of his fingers against my slit still making me tingle. He wants to spank me, and judging from the very large bulge in his jeans, he wants to do a whole lot more. And I want him to. Damn, do I want him to.

Crawling onto the couch and leaning over the back, I look back over my shoulder at him.

“Eyes forward,” he commands, and I don’t even hesitate to obey him, which sort of surprises the hell out of me.

His hand lands gently on my ass and I tense up, biting my lip as butterflies take flight in my stomach at the skin-on-skin contact.

“Relax,” he says, his voice commanding and soothing at the same time. His large hand massages my ass cheek in slow lazy circles that start small but soon grow larger. Soon, his fingers are brushing against the edge of my bikini bottom. As his fingers lightly pass over my barely concealed pussy lips, I arch back against him. He immediately pulls his hand away and then slaps it down hard on my ass. I suck in a breath at the sharp sting but I feel myself get even wetter than I already am.

He spanks me again, two powerful swats in quick succession, alternating from one side of my ass to the other. I hold back a moan as he massages the stinging skin.

“Your ass is so beautiful when it’s just been spanked by me,” he says, his voice a low growl that makes me tremble with anticipation. “Your delicate skin so pink” — the fingers of his hand spread, covering one whole cheek — “so warm.”

He leans over me, whispering in my ear as his hand slides between my legs, his fingers slipping beneath my bikini bottom. “And this sweet pussy is so wet.”

His teeth nip at my earlobe as a finger slides inside me and I gasp, something deep inside me winding tight. “Oh fuck,” I whisper. I start to tremble as Derek’s finger moves slowing in and out of my slick channel.

“Give yourself to me, Cyn,” he whispers. “Come for me.”

I cry out his name, my fingers digging into the soft leather of the couch. I press back against his hand as the spring that was wound tight inside me comes undone. I cry out again, but it’s nothing but gibberish this time. My mind is gone, shattered by an orgasm unlike any I’ve ever given myself. All that exists in this moment is my pussy, his finger, and the exhilarating feeling that’s setting every nerve in my body on fire.

I drop my head down, gasping for breath. Derek removes his finger and then I hear a wet smacking sound. I look over my shoulder and see his finger in his mouth. I almost come again at the realization that he’s tasting me. He flashes me a lecherous smirk as he slowly stands up, reaching for the button of his jeans.

“I’m going to fuck you now, Cyndie.” He slides his zipper down. “You think you can handle what I’ve got for you?”

“I . . . I don’t know.” I swallow nervously. “You’ll be my first.”

Derek arches an eyebrow, and then his zipper reverses direction.

I spin around on the couch to face him and reach out to grab his wrist, as if I have any chance at all of forcing his hand down. “No, Derek. I want this. I want you. I’m not really a virgin. I accidentally took care of that years ago with a toy. Please, I want you.”

He refastens his jeans and sits down next to me, taking my hand in his. He smiles as he raises my hand to his mouth and brushes his lips over my knuckles.

“Don’t worry, my sweet Cyn. I still want you too.” His smirk returns. “And I’m going to have you . . . but not like this. You might not technically be a virgin but you’ve never had sex with a guy, and this” — he nods toward the couch and then shakes his head — “Not for your first time.”

“But —”

He shakes his head again. “You’re mine now, and that means taking care of you, treating you right.” He glances at the couch. “Sometime soon, I’m going to fuck you like you’ve never been fucked, right here on this couch. But your first time should be special. Will be special.”

He reaches out and caresses my cheek softly. “Have dinner with me tonight.” His finger traces the outline of my ear, making me shiver. “Have dinner with me, and let me make love to you.”

I can only nod, speechless. He could take me right now, and the very large outline of his hard cock pressing against his jeans shows he wants to, but he’s waiting just because he wants to make it special.

He rises from the couch, nods, and smiles. “Good.  See you at seven, then?”

I smile and nod, feeling like the luckiest girl in the world. I’ve heard so many stories from friends who dated guys who just wanted to stick it in and take care of their needs, but Derek is resisting his desire just to make me feel special. I have to be the luckiest girl in the world.

He walks me to his front door. “Wait here just a minute.” He disappears down a hall off to the side of the living room, and then returns a few minutes later with a huge beach towel. I laugh as he drapes it over my shoulders. It’s so big it almost covers me all the way down to my ankles.

“That gorgeous body is for my eyes only,” he says and gives me a gentle kiss on the lips. It’s so different from the kiss he gave me when I first came over, but it still sends a thrill through me. I head back to my parents’ house, looking back over my shoulder for just a second, unable to keep the smile off my face when I see him standing at his door, watching me.

Chapter 6

Cyndie

“I’ve got to be out of my mind,” I say to my reflection in the bathroom mirror. I just recently accepted the fact that I couldn’t pick a decent guy if my life depended on it, and here I am about to have dinner with my parents’ next-door neighbor. The neighbor that just introduced me to a side of myself that I didn’t even know existed, a side I never would’ve dreamed existed. And this dinner? It’s basically just an excuse for what comes after. And when I was over there, still tingling from having his hands on me, I was all for letting him have his way with me. I was actually upset that things didn’t go any further.

But do I really want to get my v-card punched during a one-night stand? Shouldn’t it be special? With a special someone? I mean, I know he talked about making it special, and something tells me Derek would know exactly what he’s doing. But it’s still just a one-night stand, right? He’s older than me, and obviously experienced. How could he be interested in a twenty-one-year-old virgin?

I shrug at my reflection. I suppose things could be worse. If the spanking and the . . . I blush just at the thought of what he did and how he made me feel. If that was a preview, tonight would probably blow my mind No worries about horror stories I’d heard from others. No premature ejaculations, no fumbling awkwardness with a boy who didn’t know what he was doing. Just mind-blowing sex.

And as far as doing it with someone special? I suppose I have that part covered. I’ve been lusting over Mr. Wilson — Derek — for years. If that doesn’t make him special I don’t know what would.

I’m pulled from my thoughts by a knock at the door. I’m not expecting anyone but I suppose it could be Derek. Maybe he came over to escort me to his place. I smile. That would be cheesy, but also sweet. Excited, I rush to the door and grab the handle. Just as I turn it, I realize Bruno is behind me, growling low in his throat. Suddenly I’m not so sure it’s Derek on the other side, but it’s too late.

I’ve only opened it an inch or two but that’s enough. Something hits the door from the outside, sending it slamming into me. I stumble back and fall on my ass. I gasp when I see Tyler, Mr. Creepy Model Dude himself, stepping inside. Bruno lunges at him but Tyler quickly steps back, pressing himself tight against the wall. Bruno sails through the air, landing on the front porch. Tyler slams the door shut as the big German Shepherd spins around, ready to charge back inside.

Tyler chuckles at the scratching and barking going on outside the door, but there’s no humor in his eyes when he turns back to glare down at me. “Hi, Cyndie.” He tilts his head and grins. “Don’t you look good enough to eat.”

His eyes crawl up my bare legs all the way to the bottom of my sundress. I tug the hem down as far it will go, which admittedly isn’t very far. I’m dressed for Derek, and I figured I’d show off as much as skin as possible since he likes looking at me. If I’d known Tyler would be showing up, I’d have worn something more concealing, like an Arctic snowsuit. I would’ve also made sure to have my can of mace in my hand. Instead, it’s in my purse, doing me absolutely no good.

“Looking good, C,” Tyler says, still trying to stare a hole through my dress. “Who ya looking so good for?”

“Not you, asshat.”

He laughs like I just told the funniest joke in the world, but his eyes are still cold. He turns back slightly toward the door. Bruno is still scratching at it, the evening filled with his howls. Tyler pulls a knife from his pocket, flicking the blade open. “Maybe I need to take care of that mutt as payback for you being such a cocktease.”

“Maybe you need to be a man and try for what you really want,” I say, a sneer on my face. “Or maybe you’re too chickenshit now that I’m right here. Maybe you remember the slap I gave you when you got a little handsy under the table at the restaurant.”

Tyler turns back toward me, the smile gone from his face now. “Oh, I haven’t forgotten about that, and I’ll show you who’s chickenshit.” He steps toward me and I lash out with my foot, kicking him in the ankle as hard as I can. He staggers back against the wall, dropping the knife.

I scramble to my feet and run to the living room as Tyler yells and screams. I hear his voice getting closer. My kick caught him off guard and pissed him off but it didn’t really hurt him. But that’s okay. If I can make it to my purse on the bar that divides the kitchen and the living room he’ll get a face full of mace.

I’m just a few feet away from the bar when Tyler’s hand lands on my shoulder. He spins me around and his other hand crashes into my cheek. I land on my ass again, the slap making my eyes tear up, the world transformed into a watery smear.

Bruno’s howls have turned into barks and growls, and he sounds a lot closer. Tyler yells out and then a voice roars through the room.

“You hit her? Try taking on someone your own size, bastard.”

Even with my face stinging, I can’t help but laugh. Your own size? Tyler might be tall but he’s not even half as wide as Derek. I hear flesh strike flesh, and then I hear someone hit the ground. I squeak when two big hands slide under my body and lift me into the air. I swipe the tears from eyes, embarrassed to have him see my crying face.

“Oh my god, Derek. Put me down before you hurt yourself.”

Derek chuckles, smiling down at me. “Not a chance. You were made to be held by me.”

I suddenly become very aware of his hands on me, how close he’s holding me. Tyler’s sudden appearance almost had me ready to swear off men for good, but this man has ignited a fire in me. I lick my lips and his eyes drop to my mouth. I’m thinking about how nice it would be for him to kiss me when he dips his head, claiming my mouth with his. I moan, reaching up to caress his cheek.

“Fuck! Make it stop,” an anguished voice moans. I glance down and have to hold back a laugh. Cleopatra has finally decided to do her share of defending me. She’s sitting right beside Tyler’s head, whacking him nonstop in the face.

“Shut up, you big baby,” I say, no longer able to hold back a giggle. “At least she’s not using her claws.”

I can feel Derek’s eyes on me and I turn to look at him. He’s staring intently at my cheek. “It’s okay. Just stings a little.” I wiggle around in his arms a little. “Now let me down so I can call the police.” For just a second, I think he’s going to refuse, and possibly just hold me close to him forever. I have to admit the idea doesn’t exactly break my heart. But the cops might think it’s weird, so I wiggle again. Finally, reluctantly, Derek sits me down on my feet.

Tyler reaches toward Cleopatra. “Stupid cat,” he mumbles.

Derek growls, and it’s so deep that even Bruno looks at him with a look of surprise. Tyler groans, dropping his hand back down as Cleopatra renews her slap attack. By the time the cat is done with him, Tyler will probably be looking forward to going to jail.

Chapter 7

Derek

Cyndie wraps her lips around a spoonful of green peas. I shift in my chair, trying to will my cock to not get hard. It’s a battle I don’t have a chance in hell of winning.

The cops left about an hour ago with the idiot model in the backseat of their cruiser. We hung around her parents’ house for a little while — she wanted to make sure the dog and cat were calmed down — and then we came back to my place for a delayed dinner. It took a glass of wine to calm her down a little, but then she relaxed and we talked while we ate. She told me how she met the model and admitted to having lousy luck with guys — “Present company excluded,” she’d said with a sparkle in her eye. I told her my wife hadn’t enjoyed being married to an artist as much she liked being married to an attorney so she moved to another state. My son stayed with me until he got old enough to join the Marines — a lifelong dream of his.

I had even managed to flirt a little bit, deciding she wasn’t as traumatized as I’d feared since she kept having giggling fits every time she thought of the cat banging on that idiot’s face like he was a drum set.

“I’m sorry I ruined dinner,” she says. Again.

I’m sitting next to her at my little dining room table and place my hand on her thigh, giving it a squeeze. “You didn’t ruin a thing. The food is good and the company is absolutely gorgeous.”

She smiles and blushes, and I have to resist the urge to take her right here at the table.

“I’ve never seen anyone so beautiful in my life,” I say.

A laugh, followed by a cute snort, escapes her. She slaps her hand over her mouth as if trying to catch it. “How much wine have you had?” she asks.

I smile and lean close to her. “Same as you. One glass.” Her eyes flutter shut and a soft sigh escapes her as I brush my lips softly across hers. I savor her lips for only a second. Any more would be too tempting, and I promised her tonight would be special. I stand and offer her my hand. “Come with me. I want to show you something.”

Cyndie takes my hand and I lead her upstairs. She gasps as I flick the light on in my studio, revealing some of the work I’ve done.

“You’re really good,” she says.

“Thank you. Wait until you see my latest piece. It’s my favorite that I’ve done so far.”

She gives the covered canvas on the easel a curious glance, and her eyes widen almost to the size of saucers when I yank the cloth off with a flourish. She covers her mouth with her hands in surprise.

“Oh my gosh,” she squeals. “You painted me.”

Her eyes roam across the canvas from top to bottom, seeing herself sunbathing in her parents’ backyard. I hadn’t completed it when she went inside but everything about that moment was burned forever in my brain. It was easy to recreate the scene from memory.

“Wow,” she says breathlessly. “You made me look sexy.”

I laugh softly. “No, baby. That’s all you. All I did was capture what was already there.”

She looks at me, and I see more than desire in her eyes. Something that grips my heart and squeezes tight. This isn’t simple infatuation for either one of us. It’s much, much more, although I’m not quite sure she realizes that. I’m not just going to be the first man to put my cock in her, I’m going to be the last man that does it too.

She steps toward me and I take her in my arms, capturing her kiss with my lips. She presses up against me, grinding her hips against my hard-on, and moans into my mouth. I slide my hands down to her curvy ass and lift her off the ground. Without any hesitation, she wraps her legs around me tight. That’s enough show and tell with the art. Now it’s time to ruin her for all other men. Keeping a firm grip on her ass, I carry her out of the studio and to my bedroom without breaking the kiss, enjoying the heat and passion of her lips against mine.

I set her down at the foot of the bed and finally force my lips away from hers, kissing and licking the side of her neck. Her head lolls to the side as she moans, her hands rising up, her fingers running through my hair. I slide my thigh between her legs and press against her center. She moans louder, slowly humping my leg.

I pull the bottom of her dress up and feel a tingle of excitement through my fingertips when I brush against her ass. My naughty girl isn’t wearing panties. I growl against her neck and her grip tightens in my hair.

“Please fuck me,” she gasps in my ear, her breathing ragged, her voice thick with lust.

I step back just enough to pull her dress free, lifting it over her head and dropping it to the floor.

“Don’t worry, baby. I’m going to give you everything you need.”

Chapter 8

Cyndie

Everything I need? I wish that were true. But everything I need is him. All of him. Not just for one night but forever, but I can’t tell him that. He’ll think I’m just a silly little girl, and worse, he’d probably stop what he’s doing, and I don’t want him to stop. I especially don’t want him to stop doing what he’s doing right . . . ohhhhh.

Derek’s teeth nip at my earlobe as his hands find my breasts. He pinches my nipples. I inhale sharply at the flash of pain, and then moan, leaning into his hands as the pain transforms into pleasure.

His mouth leaves a burning trail down my flesh as his lips slowly move lower. He kisses and licks my neck, my shoulder, my — oh god! who knew the collarbone was an erogenous zone!?!? My breathing is heavy and ragged. I worry that I might hyperventilate and pass out just from foreplay.

As he covers my soft belly with kisses, Derek places his hands on my hips and gently pushes me back against his bed. Following his unspoken command, I sit, and then lie back as his hands guide me back. I gasp as he slides my legs up on his shoulders, suddenly realizing what he’s about to do. I instinctively try to close my legs, but this position makes it impossible. He covers my calves and knees with kisses, and then slowly — so very slowly — his mouth begins tracing a path higher.

“Derek, please,” I gasp, propping myself up on my elbows to watch him. I don’t even know what I’m asking for at this point? For him to stop? Keep going? And then his lips press a kiss to my inner thigh, just inches away from my pussy, and the idea of him stopping evaporates like smoke in a strong wind.

“Such a sweet-looking pink pussy,” Derek says, his voice so low it’s almost a growl. He runs his tongue along my slit, from my ass to my clit, and my arms give out. I fall back completely on the bed and grip the covers so tight I worry I might tear them with my nails. But the worry is a small one because most of my brain — most of my body — is busy feeling a delicious throbbing deep inside me.

“Oh god,” I gasp. “I’m gonna —” I shout out something that sounds like I’m speaking in tongues as Derek wraps his lips around my clit and sucks it into his mouth.

Helpless to do anything but lie there and take the pleasure he’s providing, I gasp for air and tremble as little aftershocks rocket through me. One of his hands slowly travels up my stomach. I gasp as his fingers trace a path up my breast, circling my hard nipple. Just as he takes the sensitive bud between his thumb and index finger I feel a finger from his other hand slide inside my slick channel as his tongue continues to caress my throbbing clit.

“Fuck,” I say softly, my voice barely above a whisper. I grab my other breast, pinching and pulling my own nipple as my hips begin hunching Derek’s face. “So good,” I moan. The afterglow from my last orgasm begins to transform, slowly building into something more, like burning embers sparking and giving life to a new fire.

Another finger enters my soaking pussy, slowly sliding in and out. I can hear the sound of his fingers sliding through my wetness, and I want to be embarrassed but I’m too turned on to worry about such things.

“Come for me, Cyn,” Derek growls between my legs. “Let me taste you again.” His tongue moves faster across my clit as his fingers increase their pace.

My hips begin thrusting against his face, practically on their own, desperate to get closer to his talented tongue and fingers. I slide my hands down and grab two handfuls of his thick long hair, pulling him tight against me. My heart is pounding against my ribs, it’s thumping sounding loud in my ears. I’d swear I can feel my blood rushing through my veins, faster and faster, until my whole body is thrumming like a live wire.

Derek curls his fingers up, finding that spot — that spot I’ve heard so many guys can’t find — and I come undone, my mind and body exploding with a heat I never imagined. I scream Derek’s name until my throat is raw, my fingers digging into his scalp, and I feel him remove his fingers, sliding his mouth down to capture my essence. A wave of lightheadedness washes over me and the world around me grows dim. For a second, I wonder if I’m dying. I decide death by orgasm is a great way to go.

Chapter 9

Derek

I kiss Cyndie’s thigh as she relaxes, her fingers releasing me from the death grip she had my head in. I stand and look down at her, naked on my bed, her chest heaving, a sheen of sweat coating her skin. Little curly strands of hair are plastered to her forehead, and her cheeks are flushed with pleasure. She looks sexy as fuck and she’s all mine.

After a few minutes she slowly opens her eyes. She looks at me and groans. “Oh god. You killed me and you’re not even undressed.”

I tilt my head and look at her questioningly, one eyebrow arched. “Does that mean you want to stop?”

“Hell no,” she almost shouts.

I chuckle as I pull my shirt off. Her breathing quickens as I kick off my shoes and unbutton my jeans. She licks her lips as I slide my pants and boxers down, stepping out of them and moving toward her.

Leaning down, I kiss her hip. Her breath catches as I slowly kiss my way up to her belly button. She squeals as I dip my tongue inside and I can’t help but smile. A low moan escapes her as I cover her beautiful big breasts with soft kisses, then nip at her hard nipples with my teeth. She gasps when she feels my hard cock slide against her wet slit. I grind against her, claiming her mouth with mine. Her hips rock back against me as our tongues dance against each other.

“Fuck me,” Cyndie whispers, her breath soft and warm against my cheek.

I raise my hips, enjoying the feel of her slick heat against the head of my cock, and then I slowly press forward. Cyndie sucks in a breath as I slide inside her and a groan escapes me as her velvety tightness wraps around me.

“God, you’re so fucking tight,” I gasp out, already feeling the urge to fill her with my seed.

I take her mouth in a passionate kiss, swallowing the delicious sounds she makes as I continue sliding in, stretching her pussy wide. When my balls are resting against her ass, I break the kiss and look into her eyes. “You okay?”

Her gray eyes are almost black, her pupils blown wide with lust, and her cheeks are flushed. “I’m perfect.” Her sweet voice is a breathy whisper that makes my shaft throb deep inside her.

Looking into her eyes, I slowly pull back until just the head of my cock is between her pussy lips, and then I slide forward again, picking up the pace with each thrust. Her breathing becomes harsh, ragged, as her head lolls to the side.

“So good,” she whines. “So fucking big.”

She grabs my biceps, her nails digging into me, as her hips begin meeting my thrusts with her own.  “Derek,” she moans, her inner muscles gripping me even tighter as her pussy grows hot and wet around my thrusting cock.

“That’s right, baby,” I growl. “Come around my cock.” I slide a hand between us and rub her clit with my thumb. Her moan instantly become a scream and she digs her heels into my ass, pulling me tight against her. I can feel her juices bathing my cock as she comes, pushing me over the edge. I lean down and sink my teeth into her shoulder as I explode, filling her fucked-for-the-first-time pussy with my cum, her inner muscles milking me dry.

I run my hands through her hair and kiss her softly, and after a few minutes her legs relax, releasing me from her sensual grip. I slowly pull out and lay down beside her, wrapping my arm around her and pulling her close. She runs her fingertips up and down my chest, purring like a kitten.

“I love you,” she says softly, and then gasps.

I turn to look at her and see the fear in her eyes. It’s obvious she didn’t mean to speak those words out loud. I smile and press a kiss to her forehead. “I love you, too.”

Cyndie smiles and relaxes, and then a hungry gleam appears in her eyes. She sits up and slides her hand from my chest down to my cock. “I want to try something,” she says softly, licking her lips. She wraps her fingers around my shaft and starts slowly stroking. “Can you do it again?” she asks. She gets her answer without me saying a word when my cock begins to grow long and thick between her fingers. She moans and leans forward, wrapping her lips around the head. I gasp when I feel her tongue press against my shaft as she takes more into her mouth.

She can only take a little before she starts choking and quickly changes her technique, kissing and licking the head of my cock while her hand slides and twists up and down my shaft.

“Fuck,” I groan, already feeling my balls tighten. I reach down and gently pull her away. She groans in frustration, looking up at me. “That feels great, baby, but I need to feel that sweet pussy around my cock again.”

Her frustrated groan becomes a moan of desire as she slides a leg over me, positioning herself over my cock. I grab her hips and pull her down, our combined juices allowing me to slide all the way in one thrust. She gasps when I’m fully seated in her tight pussy.

“God, you feel good,” she moans, her hips already grinding against me. I tighten my grip, my fingers pressing into her hips, and start sliding her up and down. Cyndie’s mouth opens in a surprised ‘O,’ her eyes opening wide. “Oh god,” she gasps, her pussy tightening around me. She falls forward, catching herself with her hands on my chest. “Oh god,” she repeats over and over, her hips rising and falling on their own now. I capture one of her hard nipples in my mouth, tweaking the other with my thumb and forefinger as Cyndie begins riding me faster.

“I’m gonna —” Cyndie starts to say, and then her words are lost as an orgasm washes over her. Feeling her come pushes me over the edge and I slam my hips up into her once, twice, and then I’m filling her again as she grips me tight.

She leans down and kisses me, our tongues dancing briefly, before she slides free and moves to lay by my side, snuggling tight against me. “I love you,” she says again, but she’s already asleep, exhausted, when I say I love her too.

Epilogue

Cyndie

I feel the warmth of the early morning sun caress my cheek and a slow smile spreads on my face. Who would’ve thought pet-sitting would have such a huge impact on my life? Not me, that’s for sure. When my parents called and asked me to watch their pets, I figured the best I’d get out of the deal was a week with access to their pool. Instead, I got a hot and sexy husband who loves me with all his heart and a baby that would be arriving in about two months.

I open my eyes and gaze out at the lake in our back yard. Yep. A lake. My parents were surprisingly cool about me dating and then getting engaged to their older neighbor, but it seemed weird to be having lots of wild sex right next door to my parents. Derek was completely understanding and had actually been contemplating a move. He always wanted to live in a cabin in the woods, complete with a lake in the back yard, and I knew I’d be happy anywhere as long as I was with him . . . and I didn’t have to worry about my parents hearing me scream every time I had an orgasm. So here we are.

A deer at the edge of the tree line catches my eye and I turn my head to get a good look at it.

“Hey now,” Derek says. “No moving.”

I blush and turn my head back. “Oops! Sorry.”

He chuckles. “It’s not really a problem. I’m actually finished.”

I glance over at him excitedly. “Let me see.”

He turns the easel around to face me and I can’t help the huge smile on my face. It’s me, sitting here on the patio in my gliding rocker, my right hand resting on my rounded belly. The golden morning light creates a halo effect around me. The best part, though, is in the lower left corner. In big, bold, but still artistic, swooping letters is the title: Baby’s First Picture.

◆◆◆

The Photographer

My dream of becoming a professional photographer has crashed and burned. Even selling off my photography equipment doesn't net me enough cash to cover the rent, so I decide to do the next best thing . . . or, actually, the absolute worst thing. I blow the cash on one last night out on the town, and go out with a bang -- literally -- in the arms of the hottest man I've ever met.

The next day, an online ad brings me one last shot to avoid returning to my hometown as a failure. A talented photographer I admire is looking for an assistant. Unfortunately, he turns out to be the bang . . . the man I never intended on seeing again.

I’m only supposed to be his assistant. It’s strictly professional. Except nobody told my heart that, and I don’t know how long I can resist that devilish smile or the hunger in his eyes.

Chapter 1

Harper

“I’ll give you five hundred for all of it.”

I stare at the man like he’s lost his mind. I gesture at all the photography equipment strewn across the counter in front of him. “There’s over three thousand dollars’ worth of equipment here.”

The man shrugs. “It’s used equipment. Used equipment that will take up counter space that might not sell.”

I glare at the man but bite my tongue. I know he’ll probably sell all this stuff in less than a month, but I need the money. I force a fake smile onto my face. “Five hundred is fine. Thank you.”

He flashes me an oily knowing grin. The bastard. The rent on my little dinky apartment is due in a week. All fifteen hundred dollars of it. And the landlord isn’t exactly known for his generosity, although he did offer a discount in exchange for a monthly blowjob. Ugh! No thanks. I’d rather sleep in my car.

And speaking of sleeping in my car, since five hundred dollars isn’t really going to help keep a roof over my head, I figure I’ll set aside some for a week’s worth of groceries, a tank or two of gas, and then blow the rest on getting shit-faced drunk. After all, pretty soon I won’t even be able to afford to do that.

I bite back the tears as I climb into my seven-year-old Toyota. I’ve already packed everything and stuffed it in the back, just in case the landlord decides to slap a lock on the apartment door a few days early. I’ve heard from others that he has a tendency to do that since he then turns around and sells everything in the apartment.

“Damn it!” I slap the steering wheel, my frustration boiling over. I moved to the city a year ago, ready to set the world on fire with my photography. I’m good, and that’s not just my ego talking. I’ve had brides-to-be ohh and ahh over my images, and then they take their business — and their money — somewhere else. I don’t know what I’m doing wrong, but it’s time to admit defeat. I’ll get smashed tonight and then call Mom and Dad tomorrow to tell them I’m coming home. I’ll move back home, move back in with my parents, and work at the local gas station or feed store while taking pictures on the side. At least I’ll take pictures on the side when I’m able to buy another camera.

I shake the depressing thoughts out of my head. There’ll be time for depressing thoughts tomorrow, when I’m hung over and griping at myself for blowing money I could’ve saved. Tonight is all about getting wasted and feeling good. Hell, I might even have a one-night stand since I’ll be leaving this place soon. I laugh to myself. Yeah, right. I’ve never done that and I don’t see myself starting tonight. It’s a nice thought, though.

I look in the rearview mirror at the dresses hanging up in the back seat. All three of them. I’m short and curvy, with more than my fair share of hips and boobage. Dresses aren’t really my thing. But I have a sexy little black one that everyone says makes my light brown hair and blue eyes really stand out. I’ll head back to the apartment that’s mine for at least a little longer, put on a little makeup, slide into that dress, and tell this town to kiss my ass with a little bit of style.

Chapter 2

Harper

Two drinks and three guys trying to get between my legs with lame pickup lines later and I start rethinking this whole thing. I don’t know exactly what I was looking for tonight but being told “a little extra cushin’ for the pushin’ is A-OK with me” was definitely not on the list.

I glance in the general direction of the door. I can’t actually see it because of the sea of people on the dance floor but I know it’s there. And beyond it? Plan B — Netflix and chill . . . and by ‘chill’ I mean ice cream.

Screw that. I came to get shit-faced and I’m not even halfway there. Netflix and ice cream can wait. I get the bartender’s attention — a definite advantage of big boobs. Just lean over a bit, show some cleavage, and Boom! Instant attention. When he finally manages to raise his head from the girls and make eye contact, I order two tequila shots, and then slam them down one after the other as soon as he sets them in front of me. I didn’t have dinner and they hit me like a freight train.

I look back out at the sea of bodies, moving to the beat of the music pumping through the air like a living thing. And then I get an idea. An idea that makes the teensy sober part of my brain quake in fear. I think I can dance. I can’t. The teensy sober part of me knows this. The drunk part of me that’s running the show sweeps that tiny sober part under a rug somewhere and I head to the dance floor. I close my eyes, forget about everyone around me, and let my body move with the music. The tiny sober part of me tries one last time to get drunk me’s attention and point out that I really can’t dance, but I’m not listening. The ability to dance isn’t required tonight. There are so many bodies out here I might as well be invisible.

At least that’s what I think until a pair of hands grab my hips and pull me against a body behind me. My eyes fly open and I squirm enough to loosen the grip and turn around, ready to give the person intruding on my good time a piece of my mind.

Except when I turn around, I’m staring at a light blue button-up shirt that’s not too tight but just tight enough to show the impressive pecs beneath it. I look up, and then find I need to keep looking up even more. At 5’ 5” I’m not exactly tall but this man — who still has his hands on my hips — has to be at least a foot taller than me. And holy hell! I take in as much of him as I can, scared he might disappear like an alcohol-fueled hallucination if I so much as blink. Intense hazel eyes gaze down at me, jet-black hair frames the face of a god, and the short beard that covers his chin and cheeks is practically begging me to run my fingers through it. He smiles at me and I can almost feel my panties melt. I try to remember what I was going to say when I turned around, but my brain is blank so I go with the first thing that pops into my head.

“You have big hands,” I say, leaning toward his chest, like I’m sharing a secret.

Those hands tighten their grip on my hips and tug me closer to him. I gasp as I feel something long and thick straining against his pants, pressing against me. He flashes me a smile that launches a thousand butterflies in my tummy and I squeeze my thighs together against the sudden ache I feel there.

“If you think my hands are impressive, you should see the rest of me.”

Almost against my will, my eyes drop down below his waist. The club is dark, he’s wearing black slacks, and he has me pulled tight against him. I can’t see it but I know his hands aren’t the only thing big about him. I lick my lips as I force my eyes back to his face, and notice him dropping his eyes to my mouth, following the movement of my tongue. If the hard cock pressing against me wasn’t a clue, the heat in his gaze lets me know what he wants to do.

He slides one around my waist as he turns slightly, pulling me tight against him as he leads me off the dance floor. I have no idea where he’s taking me, and I don’t care. This guy has “night I’ll never forget” written all over him, and that sounds like the perfect way to spend one of my last nights in this city before I have to go back to the small town I came from.

Instead of leading me to the front door, or the bathroom, Mr. Tall, Dark, and Please-Fuck-Me escorts me past the bar and up a small set of steps. He nods at the man standing next to a door at the top of the steps. The man steps to the side, opening the door. Of course. The VIP area. Why am I even surprised? This guy has VIP written all over him. I look around as the door closes behind us. There are three booths with wraparound seating. All of them are empty, but one of them has a glass filled with a dark liquid sitting on a napkin. He slides into the booth, pulling me with him, and then he turns those hazel eyes back to me.

“What would you like to drink?” he asks.

All I can do is stare. His eyes are burning into my soul, and his leg pressing against mine has another type of fire building between my legs. His arm is still around my waist, his fingers gripping me tightly, possessively. I lick my lips again, trying to force my brain to focus on the question, and then he’s leaning forward, his mouth claiming mine like a conquering army. I lean into him, moaning into his mouth as his other hand lands on my bare leg, almost instantly sliding up under my short dress.

I spread my legs as much as the dress will allow and I feel him grin against my lips. Am I being easy? Sure. Do I care? No. It’s been a shitty day. I deserve to let off a little steam. And then his fingers slip under my panties, tracing a slow line up my wet slit, and I stop thinking altogether.

The handsome stranger breaks the kiss, his breath hot against my ear. “I love how wet you are for me.” He traces a slow circle around my clit, forcing a moan from me. “I can’t wait to find out how you taste.” His finger slides down, dipping inside my hot pussy for just a second, and then his hand is gone from between my thighs. I gasp at the sudden absence, my eyes widening as he slides his finger, slick with my juices, between his lips. He closes his eyes and moans, sucking hard on his finger. I bite my lip, feeling my juices run down my thighs. I’ve had guys go down on me, but nobody has ever savored me the way this guy is. The expression on his face makes it look like he’s tasting the best thing he’s ever tasted. It’s a little embarrassing, and very, very fucking hot.

He slowly, almost reluctantly, pulls his finger out of his mouth. He opens his eyes and looks at me, a slow smile spreading across his face. The lust in those eyes has me getting even wetter. “Your pussy is too sweet to satisfy a man with just one simple taste.”

With a wicked grin that makes my clit throb, he slides down beneath the table. “What are you —” I begin to say, horrified and excited at the same time.

And then his powerful hands grab my hips and pull me lower, closer to the edge of the seat. He pushes the hem of my dress up and I tremble at the warm breath that’s suddenly on my thighs. “Wait!” I gasp, trying to reach down to shove him away. “We can’t — What if —”

I inhale sharply as he tugs my panties to the side and his tongue slides up my slit. “Oh fuck,” I moan, my fingers curling through his dark hair as he licks and nibbles at my swollen pussy lips.

“So fucking wet,” he moans, his lips and tongue planting soft kisses all over my swollen mound. “I want to taste your cum, sweetness.”

A high-pitched squeak escapes me as he pulls me tight against his mouth, my lower back resting against the seat. I release his hair from the death grip I had it in and grab the edges of the cushion I’m barely perched on, my nails digging gouges into the soft leather.

I feel one of his hands slide between my legs, and then a finger pushes gently against my opening as he wraps his lips around my clit. “Oh god,” I moan, pushing against his mouth. His tongue draws slow circles across my clit as he slides a thick finger inside me, curling it up to stroke that special spot. I gasp for air, feeling like I’m going to pass out as his tongue starts moving faster, each touch sending sparks of pure joy up through my body that seem to explode behind my eyes. His finger rocks inside me, applying just the right amount of pressure to my g-spot, and he sucks hard on my clit. I bite my tongue to keep from screaming with pleasure, slamming my fist down repeatedly on the leather cushion, as my orgasm washes over me like a tsunami. The sex god between my thighs is moaning nonstop as he swallows my juices. I’m sure he’s doing his best but I still feel wetness run down my ass.

He crawls out from under the table, his eyes glazed with lust, his beard glistening with the essence he just coaxed from my body. He unfastens his belt, undoes his pants, and pulls out the thickest cock I’ve ever seen in my life . . . and that includes watching porn online.

“On your knees,” he commands, his voice heavy with lust.

The idea of saying no doesn’t even cross my mind. I don’t even hesitate. I turn over on the wraparound seat, resting on my hands and knees. He tosses my dress over my hips and tears my panties away while making an animalistic growl.

I’m panting with lust, dying to feel his cock in me. I hear the sound of tearing foil rip through the air, and a few seconds later I feel the head of his thick cock sliding up and down my wet slit, coating himself in my wetness.

“Tell me what you want,” he says, his voice low, sending shivers of lust through me.

“Fuck me,” I beg, rolling my hips against his cock. He presses forward, and I groan as he stretches me wider than I’ve ever been. At the sound, he stops, giving me time to adjust to his size. His big hands are on my hips, his fingers gripping me tight. I try to push back against him anxious to be filled, but I’m unable to move within his grasp. “More,” I rasp out in a breathy voice I don’t recognize as my own. “Give me more of that big cock.”

He chuckles and pulls back. “Someone’s eager, aren’t they?”

I growl low in my throat as he pulls back until just the thick mushroom head of his dick is between my pussy lips. “Fuck me,” I shout. “I need your cock.”

One hand moves from my hip and then slaps down on my ass. Hard. I jump forward, and frustration overwhelms me as he pulls free.

“You don’t demand, sweetness,” he says, his voice firm. “You beg.” His hand smacks down on my right ass cheek. “You ask.” And then my left. “But you do not demand.” His hand slaps down on the right side and then the left, so fast it almost feels like he delivered both at the same time.

My ass is stinging, and I have to resist the urge to purr. Who knew I’d like being spanked?

“Please,” I say, using the sweetest, most innocent tone I can with my body burning with out-of-control lust. “Please fuck me. Please give me that big cock.”

His hand lands softly on the curve of my ass and I inhale sharply. It stings, but the sting is soon replaced by pleasure as he massages the sensitive flesh. “Good girl,” he says, his voice just above a whisper.

The head of his cock presses against my pussy lips and I can’t help the shiver that racks my body. I’m desperate for his cock. I’m hornier than I’ve ever been in my life, and the man isn’t even naked.

Slowly, he slides his thick rod in, my inner muscles clamping down on his rock-hard shaft. A low moan escapes me as he continues to fill me. I suck in a sharp breath, my eyes rolling back as I feel his cock touch places inside me that have never been touched before, and somewhere deep inside me I feel the familiar heat of an orgasm growing. “Fuuuck!” I groan as I finally feel his balls press against the back of my thighs. I could die right now because there’s no way I could ever feel better than I do at this moment.

At least that’s what I think until he starts moving. He pulls back slow, almost his entire length retreating from me, and then he surges in like a hurricane, like a force of nature, slamming into me so hard that only his strong hands on my hips keep me from tumbling forward. He repeats the movement, slow at first but gradually getting faster. I sink my nails into the cushion, gasping for air as my lover pounds his big cock into me, over and over, his balls slapping against my ass. I want to turn around. I want to look into his eyes. I want to memorize every single thing about this man. But all I can do is hang on tight as he fucks me within an inch of my life.

I knew it was coming. There was no way I could be fucked like this and not come. But my orgasm still surprises me with its speed and ferocity. One second, I could feel it building. The next, it’s here, exploding over me, drowning out my senses as I scream “Yes” over and over.

My lover growls behind me. It’s loud, low, animalistic. His fingers tighten on my hips and I hear something like ‘Mine’ buried in the growl, and then he comes, his thick cock throbbing inside me, triggering another orgasm that strikes me senseless. For just a second, I wish he had skipped the condom. It’s a silly thought but I can’t help it. I want to feel him fill me, and then the edges of my vision go dark as a third orgasm takes my breath away. Holy fuck! Just the thought of him coming inside me was enough to make me come.

I drop my head to the cool cushion beneath me as he holds me tight against him, his cock throbbing inside me, so hot I’m not surprised I’m sweating.

I gasp for breath, my legs shaking so bad it takes a concentrated effort to keep them supporting my weight. My sex god finally pulls free and I have to bite my lip to not whine at the sudden feeling of emptiness. I look over my shoulder. There’s a sheen of sweat on his face and he’s breathing heavy, but he still looks hot as hell. He’s still looking at me with that intense passion too, like he wants to take me home and —

I blink. Take me home? I suddenly realize I’d say yes if he asks me to go home with him. And that can’t happen.

He notices me looking and flashes that devilish grin. The one that would melt my panties if he hadn’t already torn them off.

“I do believe I still owe you a drink,” he says. His eyes drop to my ass, still bare before him, and he licks his lips. “Perhaps we could —”

“No,” I say sharply, louder than intended, as I stand up and pull the hem of my dress down.

Perhaps we could take this to my place. Or something along those lines. I can almost see the thought in his eyes. And I want him to say those words, because I want to say yes. But I can’t. I’m going back home, leaving this town, and my dreams, behind. This is supposed to be a one-night stand. Something to release a little steam. It was not supposed to be the best fuck of my life. It was not supposed to make me want to get to know this man, to go home with him, find out what he enjoys, what his dreams are, what kind of woman he’s looking for to settle down with.

“No,” I say again, without almost shouting it this time. “I need…” You, my traitorous mind screams. “I need to go.” I run my hand through my hair. “Ummm… thank you.”

Thank you? What the hell? I can’t even look at him. I just slide by him and run out the door that leads back out into the club. I hear him say something but I can’t make it out. I don’t want to make it out. He’s just a one-night stand. That’s all. One night of incredible mind-blowing sex. That’s all. If I tell myself that enough, I might finally believe it.

Chapter 3

Harper

Daggers. In my eyes. In my head. Everywhere. I groan, slowly pulling myself up to a sitting position in bed. My stomach rolls, threatening to rebel, but the joke’s on it. I came home last night and passed out on the bed. No dinner. No breakfast. Nothing to come up. I scramble off the bed and run to the bathroom, dry heaving anyway, my stomach showing me who the boss is.

I want to kill whoever came up with the bright idea of going out and getting fucked up last night. I groan as I splash cold water on my face, remembering that person was me.

Since I’m already in the bathroom, I decide to take care of morning business, using the bathroom and brushing my teeth to hopefully remove the dead animal out of my mouth. I stumble back into the bedroom, my legs burning like I ran a marathon or something, and there’s a soreness between my thighs that makes me wonder if I got carried away with my battery-operated boyfriend during the night while in a drunken stupor. I peel off the little black dress and drop it on the bed, shocked to find my matching black panties are gone. But I’m still wearing my bra. Weird.

And then it all comes back. I gasp as the memories of my personal sex god slam into my brain. Sober me was bound and gagged last night but that bitch was taking notes, and now my brain and body are flooded with images and sensations. My inner muscles clench, and I moan as I remember how he spanked and teased me, driving me insane with lust. I remember every delicious sensation, and I remember I wanted more. So much more.

I pull on a pair of sweats, yank off the bra, and slide a t-shirt on, and then make my way to the kitchen. I press the power button on my laptop as I approach the love of my life — Mr. Keurig. The sex god was awesome last night but my passion for Mr. Keurig knows no limits this morning. I inhale deeply as the aroma of the life-giving liquid fills the room. A little cream, a little sugar, a tentative sip of the hot liquid, and I start to feel somewhat human.

I sit down at my desk between the living room and the kitchen and wait for my laptop to finish powering up. The thing is old, but it gets the job done. And the job right now is procrastination. I know I need to pack and call my parents to let them know I’ll be crawling home with my tail between my legs, but all of that can wait until later.

After skimming the news and wasting a few minutes on Facebook while I finish my coffee I log into a photography forum I’m a member of and browse the various threads to see if anything catches my interest. One new thread in particular seems to be getting a lot of attention so I click into it.

I immediately see why everyone is so worked up. XL Studios apparently posted an ad on the “jobs” thread just a few minutes ago. I click over to see for myself, a nervous knot forming in my stomach. XL Studios is awesome. They’re a very popular member on the forum, always providing helpful advice, never seeming to be worried about losing customers by sharing their techniques and locations. And the photos. Wow! I’d give anything to take photos like that.

I read the ad, and then read it again just to make sure my eyes aren’t playing tricks on me. They’re looking for an assistant. No professional experience necessary. The ad specifies the person has to be local. I know from looking at their profile that I meet that requirement. And although I have made a few bucks here and there with my camera, I wouldn’t call my experience professional.

Chewing on my bottom lip, I look at the link at the bottom of the ad. Right above it is a simple statement: All applicants must complete questionnaire.

The ad mentions what the assistant position pays. It’s enough that I wouldn’t have to move back home. I probably wouldn’t get paid soon enough to keep from getting kicked out of this apartment, but I could live in my car for a few weeks until I earned enough to rent another place.

With shaky fingers, I move the mouse and click the link. It takes me to the XL Studios website. The questionnaire has one question — What is photography to you?

I blink. That’s it? How am I supposed to answer that? It could be anything. There’s obviously no right or wrong answer to something like that so it’s down to impressing them. Crap. What is photography to me? It’s a way to capture a moment in time, saving it for future generations. I groan. That’s so cliché. And it’s more what photography is than what it is to me.

I think about how I was dreading calling my parents, how I’d feel like a failure if I had to go back home. But I wouldn’t have to do that if I got this job. I’d be earning money doing what I love, learning from one of the best photographers I’ve ever seen. The sky would be the limit. What’s photography to me? I answer with one word.

Freedom.

I hit ‘enter’ and go back to the thread in the forum talking about the ad. A few people mention the odd one-word questionnaire. Nobody shares the answer they gave. A few minutes later, someone says the ad and link are gone, the edited post now saying the position has been filled.

I jump as a PING sounds from the speakers, letting me know I’ve received a personal message on the forum. My stomach clenches, and then I laugh. It’s a coincidence. It has to be. There’s no way XL Studios is messaging me to say I got an interview.

Except they are. The message is simple, just giving an address, a date (tomorrow), and a time (8 a.m.).

The rest of the day drags by, but the next morning finally arrives. My GPS leads me to a ritzy neighborhood and I double-check the address when I pull into the circular drive of a… a large house? A tiny mansion? It’s definitely something I’d never be able to afford.

I pull my portfolio from the back seat of my car, smooth my knee-length pencil skirt, and go to the door. I ring the bell and wait, glancing back over my shoulder at my beat-up Toyota hatchback. It sticks out like a sore thumb. Maybe I should’ve used Uber. I see a shape approach through the frosted glass in the front door. It opens. I’m met by a stunned expression, and then a familiar sexy-as-hell grin appears on his face. Holy hell. It’s my sex god.

Chapter 4

Axel

It’s her. The sexy goddess who stole my heart while her sweet pussy was milking my dick. Actually, that’s not exactly right. My heart was hers as soon as I saw her on the dance floor.

I wasn’t even looking to hook up with anyone last night. I had finally decided I needed to hire an assistant. I had simply become too busy to be able to handle everything myself. That’s not exactly a bad thing, but realizing I could no longer handle everything myself was a bitter pill to swallow. So I decided to help it go down with liberal amounts of alcohol. I rented out the whole VIP area, just wanting to be alone to stew over the fact that I was going to have to give up some independence, that I was going to have to rely on someone else.

And then I looked through the tinted glass that separated the VIP area from the rest of the club and saw her.

She can’t dance. That was obvious after just watching her for a few minutes, but it was also obvious that she didn’t care. She was simply there, enjoying the moment, with absolutely no thought about what others might think. In a world filled with people constantly worrying over their image and optics and how people perceive them, she was a breath of fresh air. A breath of fresh air wrapped in a gorgeous package I was dying to unwrap. The way that dress hugged her curves . . . mmm. Just thinking about how she looked last night has my cock rock-hard.

Or maybe it’s the outfit she’s wearing now. Dressed in a black button-up top with the long sleeves pushed up to her elbows and a blush-colored pencil skirt, she’s a picture of professionalism, the complete opposite of the sultry look she had in the tight little black dress last night, but she’s still beautiful. And the clothes do little to hide her curvaceous figure. I flex my hands, my fingers tingling with the memory of holding her hips as I fucked her.

She licks her lips and I hold back a groan as my cock throbs, uncomfortably confined by my slacks.

“You’re XL Studios?”

I grin. “Axel. It’s a play on my name and …” My grin widens. “Well, I think you can probably guess what else XL stands for.”

She blushes, dropping her eyes to the ground, and I have to resist the urge to take her in my arms and kiss her.

“This is probably a mistake,” she says, so softly I barely hear her.

She starts to turn away and I have to resist the urge to grab her. She ran away once. I cannot let her slip away again. I say the one thing that might hopefully be able to stop her.

“Freedom.”

She stops and looks back at me. It was too dark to tell in the club, but she has the biggest, bluest eyes I’ve ever seen in my life. For just a moment, my mind goes blank as I lose myself in those pools of blue.

“What did you say?” she asks.

“Freedom.” I smile, trying to look innocent. Harmless. I don’t want to scare her away. “That’s what you’re looking for, right?” I step back and gesture for her to come inside.

She hesitates, and I can almost sense her desire to look back at her car.

“Come on,” I say. “Over a hundred people applied for the assistant position. You’re the only one who got an interview, based solely on your intriguing one-word answer.” I nod toward the portfolio case she’s holding in her hand. “At least let me see what you’ve got.” I try to keep my mind on business as I think of a few things she’s got that I’ve already seen, tasted, felt. I swallow a groan as the crotch of my pants becomes even tighter.

Her eyes drop below my waist and grow wider. She licks her lips again as she stands there. After a few seconds, she nods, as if making a decision, and steps through the door. After she walks by, I hastily adjust myself so things aren’t quite as painful.

She looks around as she exits the foyer into the spacious living room. “Is this your house? Your studio?”

“Both, actually,” I reply.

I gesture toward one of the overstuffed couches. “Have a seat. Would you like something to drink?”

She glances at me and I see her pupils dilate, probably remembering how things went the last time I offered her a drink. Unable to help myself, I glance down. Her nipples are hard, the two hard points pressing against her shirt.

I smile wickedly at her. “How’s that old saying go? Coffee? Tea? Me?”

“I’m fine,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper.

I run my gaze up and down her body. “Trust me, sweetness. You are a thousand times more than simply fine.”

She blushes and runs a hand through her hair. Chewing on her lip, she drops her gaze to the floor for a moment before looking up into my eyes. “I don’t mean to be rude but I think it would be best to forget about last night.  I’m here to apply for a position as your assistant and I’d hate for last night’s…” Her blush deepens. “I’d hate for last night to negatively impact that opportunity.”

I’m stunned, and momentarily speechless. And very impressed. She could easily try to seduce her way into the position. It wouldn’t work — a nice piece of ass isn’t worth compromising my business — but it would be fun to watch her try.

I clear my throat, forcing myself to focus back on the purpose of this meeting. “Forgetting last night isn’t an option. I’ll remember that fantastic evening until I die, and possibly even beyond that, but we’ll go ahead and leave that in the past.” For now.

She finally sits on the couch, clutching her portfolio in front of her like a shield. I sit on the loveseat across from her, although I’d prefer to sit next to her and pull her onto my lap.

“This is a bit awkward,” I say, offering a smile to ease us over this bump, “but I never got your name last night and I only know your user name on the forum.”

“Oh gosh,” she gasps, raising her hands to cover her mouth, her eyes wide. “I’m so sorry. Harper. My name’s Harper.”

“Harper.” I say it slowly, savoring it on my tongue. “Simply beautiful.” I nod toward her portfolio. “So, let’s see what you’ve got, Harper.” I pray the woman is good with a camera. Even if she’s not, I’ll find something for her to do. Anything to keep her near me. But it will be so much easier if I can hire her for the position she wants.

I open the portfolio and start looking over the 11x16 prints she has on display. My worries lessen with each image I see. She’s good. Very good. But she’s playing it safe. Standard poses, standard lighting. She’s talented, but she doesn’t appear to realize that.

“May I ask a question?” she says.

I look at her, arching an eyebrow.

“One question,” she says. She tilts her head, looking intently at me. “That’s it. One question to decide if someone gets to interview with you. I could’ve shown up and not even known how to turn a digital camera on.”

A laugh escapes me. I nod toward her portfolio. “It’s safe to say you know how to turn a camera on. You’re very good.”

She blushes, a small smile making her even more beautiful.

I shrug and lean back, closing her portfolio. I’ve seen enough. I’d hire her even if I didn’t want to make her mine. “I don’t need to know skills. Skills can be taught. Some people have an eye for photography, giving them an advantage, but it’s not necessary. The lighting, the poses, operating the camera, it can all be taught. What’s important is the desire.”

Frustrated with the distance between us, tired of playing nice, I move to sit next to her, close enough for my leg to press against hers. She tenses but doesn’t move away. I look her in the eye. “Desire. Passion. Those are the things that take something good and make it great.” I lean toward her and claim her mouth with mine as she gasps. Her hand reaches up and grabs my arm, but she doesn’t push me away. Instead, her grip tightens and she moans as I tease the seam of her mouth. She parts her lips, letting me in, and my tongue dances with hers.

After a few seconds, she slowly pulls away. She licks her lips, her eyes filled with lust. “What happened to keeping things professional?” she gasps.

Her nipples are hard enough to cut glass, making their presence known through her blouse, and she’s breathing heavy, her voice slightly deeper, but she’s not quite ready yet. She still wants to pretend the chemistry between us can be denied. That’s fine. I can play that game for just a tiny bit longer. I rise from the couch and take a few steps away. There’s no way I could remain close and not put my cock in her.

I smile as she crosses her arms over her chest, trying to hide her arousal. “Right. Professional. What kind of equipment do you have?”

The fire dies in her eyes like I dumped a bucket of cold water on her. She looks away, covering her mouth with her hand. She mumbles something.

“I’m sorry. What was that?”

She sighs. “I said I had to sell my gear for rent money.”

I nod. “It’s probably hard to tell in the current surroundings but I’ve been there. Photography is a feast or famine business, and the famine part can be brutal.”

She nods, and I can see her fighting to hold back tears. I sit back down next to her and wrap her in my arms, pulling her close. “None of that now. It’s just part of the business. I’ll just write a check and you can go buy some new gear.”

She pulls away. “I don’t need a handout.”

I reach out and take her hand in mine. “It’s not a handout. It’s business. I’m very picky about the equipment I use, and that also goes for the equipment my assistant uses.” I shrug and offer her a reassuring smile. “Even if you still had your old equipment, I’d still have you buy stuff that works with my workflow.”

She looks at me, trying to determine if I’m telling the truth. She finally nods, wiping her eyes with the fingers of her free hand.

I give her hand a squeeze. “We all do what we have to do. On the bright side, you still have a roof over your head, right?”

It was the wrong thing to say. The tears are back, and this time there’s no holding them back. She pulls her hand away and leans forward, covering her face, sobbing. “No. I didn’t get even half what all that equipment was worth. I still don’t have enough for rent.”

“Then you’ll stay in one of my spare rooms.” I hold up a hand before she can protest. “I will not have you sleeping in your car or on the street.” I wave my hand at the large room we’re in. “I have more than enough room, with some extra rooms set up as portrait scenes while others are storage or just sitting empty.” I flash her a wicked smile. “Unless of course you’d like to stay in my room with me.” She blushes and rubs her thighs together. I can practically smell her arousal, and I can’t wait to have her in my bed. She says something, so low I can barely hear her. “What was that?” I ask.

She glances at me, her cheeks flushed bright red. “Thank you,” she says softly.

I stand, pulling my wallet from my back pocket. “You say that now, but we’ll see what you say tomorrow.” I pull a black credit card from my wallet and toss it on the couch cushion next to her as she looks up at me curiously. “I have a wedding scheduled tomorrow,” I explain. “I was going to cover it solo but I think you’re ready.” I nod toward the card. “Go to the photo store and get ready to shop. I’ll text you a list of everything you need to get before you get there. Afterwords, come back here so you can get some practice time in with the new camera and lights.” I can’t help but smile at the grin that appears on her face when I mention new equipment. Typical shutterbug. Always ready to play with new gadgets.

She grabs the card, glances at me for just a moment, hesitant, like I might change my mind and snatch it back from her, and then bounces to her feet, giving me a quick kiss on the cheek before offering a quick “thank you” as she heads to the door. I reach up and touch the spot she kissed, unable to take my eyes from her curvy ass until the front door shuts, blocking my view. I smile, savoring the feel of her lips on my cheek. She doesn’t know it yet, but tonight’s equipment test will be unlike any she’s ever done before.

Chapter 5

Harper

I smile at the man behind the counter. It’s the same guy from before, the one who practically robbed me. He looks at all the equipment I’ve set on the counter and arches an eyebrow. I slap down the black credit card beside the pile of equipment and his eyebrow arches even higher. “Someone’s had a change of luck.”

“New job,” I say simply.

He picks up the card and looks at the name. His eyes cut to me and then back to the card, and he shakes his head. “I was on that forum when he was looking for an assistant. Even applied for it myself.” He starts ringing up the photo gear and shakes his head again. “One lousy question.” He looks at me. “What was the correct answer?”

My smile grows bigger. “It’s a secret.”

He huffs under his breath. “Of course it is,” he says as I take the card back and start picking up the bags. “Well, good luck with it. That’s the kind of job that could change someone’s life.”

I think about those words on the way back to Axel’s. It is the type of job that could change someone’s life, and I’m not going to fuck it up by fucking the boss. No matter how wet he makes my panties.

I tell myself I’m committed to keeping things platonic with my new boss. I tell myself this several times during the drive back to his home-slash-studio. Do I believe it? I tell myself I do. And the plan to keep things platonic becomes a lot more believable when I pull up to his house just in time to see him locking lips with a tall gorgeous blonde dressed in nothing but a bright yellow bikini and heels. Her arms are wrapped around his neck and she’s pressing her body so close to his that I probably couldn’t even slide a piece of paper between them.

Axel pulls away from her, glances in my direction, and grimaces. Yeah, buddy. You are so busted. All that talk about desire and passion while he was looking into my eyes, the panty-melting kisses. Just so much bullshit. That’s fine. Nobody said we were dating. It’s just a job. So I fucked my boss the other night. Big deal. Still just a job. Nothing but a paycheck and a big-name photographer on my resume. Definitely worth the hollow emptiness where my heart used to be.

Blondie tilts her nose up just so she can look down at me, one corner of her perfect cupid bow lips turning up in a little smirk as she climbs into her little red convertible. I smile at her, nod, and keep walking, my fingers tightening their grip on the bags in my hands as I imagine them tightening around her throat.

Axel smiles and steps aside, gesturing for me to enter before him. Damn that smile. It only makes him more handsome. But even if I hadn’t seen him playing tonsil hockey with Blondie I’d have to ignore that smile, because he’s my boss, and I’m not going to fuck this up.

“I’m assuming you had fun playing with all the gadgets?” he says.

“I had the list you sent me,” I reply stiffly. “There wasn’t any need to look around at other stuff.”

He arches one perfect eyebrow and grins at me. I feel my cheeks heat up and I can’t help but smile back. “Of course. They have so many cool toys.”

He chuckles. “It’s impossible for a photographer to ignore cool toys. It’s in our blood.”

I nod and then force the smile off my face. While I was buying photo equipment, he was getting busy with Blondie. And he’s not even acting guilty about it. More proof that I’m just an employee. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind me being an employee with benefits, but I’m not that kind of girl. Except for the other night. Damn it.

Axel points upstairs. “Down the hall. Third door on the right. Set up your equipment in there. I’ll join you shortly.” He starts to turn away and then looks back. “Oh, and the first door on the left is your room. I straightened it up so you can stay the night and get your stuff tomorrow if you’d like.”

All my stuff is crammed into every bit of available space in my little hatchback, but he doesn’t need to know that. “Thanks but I don’t have any other clothes with me so I’ll probably just go back to the apartment tonight.”

He looks at me and tilts his head. “Are you okay? Your voice sounds . . . different.”

I try to force myself to sound less formal, less stiff. “Sorry. Just looking forward to trying out the new camera.” I smile, and it’s not even forced. I am looking forward to trying the new camera, but I hate that he’s going to be hovering near me. I glance up at his hair. It’s dry, and I have to force the smile to stay in place. I hope he hops in the shower and washes Blondie off before he comes to watch.

With a nod, he turns and heads down the hall. Hopefully to shower. I enter the room he directed me to and look around. It’s a basic studio setup: a paper background hanging from a stand near the back wall, tape on the floor for different lighting setups. I set my bags down on a table along one wall and get to work setting up my new gear.

By the time everything is ready, Axel still hasn’t shown up, and now I’m wondering what I can take pictures of. There’s nothing photogenic in the room. It’s all just photography stuff and a few pieces of furniture. Just as I decide to explore the house to find something to use — a vase, a pillow, something — the door opens and Axel enters, wearing a terrycloth robe that stops just above his knees and — I’m assuming — not much else under it. I’m able to pull my eyes away from the bit of bare chest showing to notice his hair is slightly damp.

He notices where I’m looking and runs a hand through his dark locks. “Sorry if I kept you waiting long. I needed a shower after having Brenda crawl all over me.” He rolls his eyes. “The woman practically bathes in expensive perfume, as if that will help her land a modeling gig, or a guy.

My mouth opens before I can stop it. “It didn’t look like it was causing much of a problem during the goodbye kiss.”

He rolls his eyes. “Trust me. That was her kissing me, and completely against my rules.” He glances at me. “If I’m photographing them I’m not fucking them. It keeps things simple. Besides, she’s all silicone tits, surgically enhanced ass, and has an absolute willingness to fuck anyone she needs to fuck to get to the front of the pack. I was more than ready for her to leave.”

He glances at my new camera mounted on a tripod. “Lose the tripod. They’re good for formal shots but this is about you getting in tune with the camera. You need to be able to move with the flow of the session.”

Wow! First day and I’m already learning something I never thought about. I pull the camera off the tripod and gasp when he steps in front of the portrait background.

He gives me that sexy grin. “Problem?”

“I didn’t think I’d be taking pictures of you,” I manage to say through the shock that’s racing through my ice water in my veins.

He arches an eyebrow. “Why not?” He puts a foot up on the posing stool next to him and it takes all my willpower to not look down at the hem of his bathrobe. “Do you not think I’m photogenic, Harper?”

“No,” I say quickly. “You’re very photogenic.” I lose the battle and my eyes drop. Fuck me. Is he ever photogenic. The man’s thighs are carved out of marble and I have a sudden desire to lick them. Instead of doing that, I concentrate on the camera’s controls, but the thought’s there and I can feel a slow heat building between my thighs.

He leans down, placing a muscular forearm on the knees that’s propped on the stool. It’s a very sexy casual look, that just happens to also make the bottom of the robe rise just a little higher. “This is all about you getting used to your equipment so feel free to give directions like you would any client.” He grins. “I’ll do anything you say.”

Am I panting? I think I’m panting. Not sexy at all. No! Not professional, I correct myself. Sexy doesn’t matter. I’m not trying to be sexy. I’m trying to be professional. I raise the camera and push the button, forcing myself to focus on the photography. The first few pictures suck. I know it without even looking at them, but I slowly get into the groove, and Axel actually behaves himself.

After a few more shots, I decide the harsh glare of the strobe is all wrong. This is a sexy man wearing nothing but a bathrobe. I flick off the strobe and just use the modeling lights, capturing his form in softer, warmer light. He nods with approval when I make the switch, a small smile on his lips. I try a few different poses with him, even having him turn his back to the camera at one point and teasingly telling him to raise the robe so I can see his ass. Although I probably shouldn’t be surprised I am when he actually does it. He clenches his muscles, making his ass tighten, and I have to bite my lower lip to hold back the moan that wants to escape.

I apparently don’t do a good job of holding it back because he turns and looks at me, a wicked grin on his face and a lust-filled gleam in his eyes. His cock is hard, sticking out of the fold of the robe, pointing right at me. I shouldn’t look at it, but I can’t help myself. It’s like I’m hypnotized. I lick my lips, my mouth suddenly dry. On the other hand, my panties are now very, very wet.

He stalks toward me slowly, like a predator. “See anything you like?” he asks, his voice deeper than it was before.

I nod, and then catch myself, quickly shaking my head, but my eyes are still locked on to the throbbing shaft sticking up in the air. “It was just a one-night stand.” My voice is so breathy and soft I’m surprised he can hear me.

He laughs softly. “Sweetness, I knew you were more than a one-night stand when I saw you out on the dance floor.”

He gets closer and that gorgeous cock slides up my blouse, the mushroom head pointing straight up at me. I can’t see it because my breasts are in the way, but I can feel his heat through the fabric. “I think you knew it too,” he says. “That’s why you ran . . . but you don’t need to be afraid.”

Still looking down, I whisper softly, “If I’m photographing them I’m not fucking them?”

He puts a finger under my chin and tilts my head up until I’m looking into his hazel eyes. His pupils are blown wide open with the same passion I feel coursing through my veins. “That doesn’t apply to us,” he says, and then his lips are on mine, his free hand sliding behind my neck, cupping it, pulling me closer. His tongue teases my lips and I moan, letting him in.

As Axel claims my mouth, I wrap my fingers around his thick shaft, the low fire between my legs becoming a raging inferno as I thrill at the feel of his cock. It’s like a bar of steel wrapped in velvet, soft and hard at the same time. And oh so hot. His shaft throbs against my fingers and I’m overcome with a sudden desire that’s too strong to resist.

He growls when I break the kiss but a slow grin appears on his face when I sink to my knees. A bead of precum hangs on the tip of his cock. My tongue flicks out and captures it. I look into his eyes, seeing a hunger there that I’ve never seen in anyone else. Continuing to look up at him, I slowly wrap my lips around the head of his cock and take him into my mouth.

“Fuck,” he growls, low and deep. His fingers tangle in my hair, his nails massaging my scalp as I take as much of him as I can. He’s too big for me to take all the way so I slide my mouth back and forth on what I can while stroking the rest of him with fingers that squeeze and loosen in a rhythm that soon has him thrusting against my face.

My free hand slides between his legs, cupping his balls and giving them a gentle squeeze, and I slide my tongue along his throbbing shaft as I suck harder on him, my hand moving faster up and down his shaft.

“Jesus, woman,” Axel gasps out. “You’re gonna make me . . . fuuuuck!”

His thrusts become erratic and then he freezes and growls my name as he pumps his cream in my mouth. I swallow greedily — just a taste — and then pull his throbbing member from my lips and aim it down. Pure lust flashes in his eyes as he watches his pearly cum coat my black shirt.

He pulls me to my feet and claims my mouth. I can’t help but moan as his tongue teases mine. I feel his hands grab the front of my shirt and then I hear numerous tapping sounds throughout the room as he tears my top open, buttons flying everywhere. He rips my shirt from my body and drops it to the floor. He just came but I can already feel his cock getting hard again against my belly. I purr into his mouth at the knowledge that I turn him on so much.

With a sharp nip against my lower lip, Axel pulls away and looks at my body. My hands automatically cover my curvy belly as embarrassment dulls some of the lust rushing through me. Axel frowns and shakes his head, pulling my hands away. He kneels down, looking up at me. “Never hide yourself,” he says. “You’re too beautiful to hide.” He covers my belly with kisses and then stands, picks me up, and tosses me over his shoulder like I weigh nothing. I squeal, kicking my feet in the air as he takes me out of the little studio room and down the hall. He opens a door and carries me into his bedroom, tossing me onto what has to be the most comfortable king-sized bed in the whole world. Before I have a chance to move, he’s lifting my hips and tugging my skirt and panties down.

I gasp as he lays down on his stomach, lifting my legs to rest on his shoulders and back. “So beautiful,” he whispers before planting a soft kiss on my inner thigh. I shiver uncontrollably as he does the same thing to my other thigh, a low moan escaping me as he begins leaving a trail of kisses up my inner thighs, alternating from one to the other with each kiss.

Slowly — so very motherfucking slowly — he works his way higher. By the time he’s reached my pussy, I’m panting heavily, my fingers clutching and twisting the blanket I’m laying on. “Please,” I manage to gasp out between heaving breaths. “I need you.”

“You have me, Sweetness,” he says against my thigh, his soft breath making me tremble as it passes over my skin. And then he runs his tongue firmly up my slit, all the way from my ass to my clit.

I suck in a sharp breath and hold it. I don’t mean to, but I can’t help it. I simply can’t breathe anymore. It’s like my body simply forgot how to do something it’s been doing my whole life. His tongue takes another long lick and then it traces a circle around my clit. Once. Twice. And then down, sliding inside me. I scream his name as the orgasm that’s been building is unleashed. He continues to tongue fuck me, his arms gripping me tight, holding me against his oh-so-delicious tongue. I dig my heels into his back, thrashing around as one orgasm slides smoothly into a second.

And then he’s over me, his cock sliding up and down my slick mound. His mouth crashes on mine and I taste myself as our tongues dance together. He breaks away for just a moment, looking at me with a hungry gleam in his eyes. “You’re not a one-night stand, or a fling, or anything remotely casual. You’re forever.” He captures my mouth in a hungry kiss and I feel him slide into me. I moan into his mouth as he stretches me, filling me completely with his thick, throbbing cock. With one long, slow movement, he buries himself balls-deep inside me, and then he begins fucking me with a steady rhythm that soon has me gasping for air as he nibbles at my neck and shoulder, his beard scratching softly at my skin. I hold him close, one hand tangled in his hair, the other sliding down and holding one tight ass cheek that clenches every time he surges forward.

I can feel another orgasm building, a fire growing steadily hotter, and then he pulls out, the sudden emptiness a shock to my system. Before I can come to my senses enough to complain, he turns me over, pulls me up on my knees, and buries his cock deep inside me once again, one hand smacking down on my ass at the same time.

“Say you’re mine,” he demands, emphasizing the command with another smack.

“I’m yours,” I moan, trembling as my orgasm begins rippling through me.

Another burning smack across my ass. “Louder,” he says firmly.

“I’m yours,” I yell.

“Good girl.” And then he takes my hips in a powerful grip and begins fucking me harder and faster, pulling me back against him with each forward thrust.

I scream his name as I come, and then I lapse into gibberish, unable to speak coherently as wave after wave of pure pleasure rushes over me.

“Mine,” Axel growls as his thrusts begin to stutter, his natural rhythm faltering as he gives in to his own pleasure. “All mine, Harper. Forever.” And his cock throbs and swells as he fills me with his seed, triggering another orgasm that leaves me panting and unable to move.

He collapses beside me, both of us breathing heavy. His arm wraps around me and pulls me close to him. “Mine,” he whispers in my ear. “Forever.”

“Yours,” I reply, snuggling back against him. I close my eyes, content and happy.

Epilogue 1

Harper

The wedding is just as nerve-racking as I imagined it would be. I’m constantly worried about doing something to make a fool of myself while everyone celebrates the big event, and Axel’s intense eyes just make me more nervous.

“Just breathe,” Axel says softly, barely above a whisper. “It’s just another wedding. You’ve photographed dozens of them.” He flashes me an encouraging smile and takes my hand.

“Right,” I reply, just as softly. “Just another wedding. With one big difference.”

His smile grows bigger, and I can see from the hungry look in his eye that he’s resisting the urge to kiss me. He knows he can’t. Not right now.

I smile back at him and give a subtle nod as we both turn and face the pastor.

“Dearly beloved, we are assembled here in the presence of family and friends to celebrate the joining together of Axel and Harper in the holy covenant of marriage.”

For just a second, the photographer in me worries that there’s no camera behind the alter. I’ve always thought ceremony photos that only show the backs of the bride and groom are so boring, but then I see one of the photographers off the side, camera at the ready. I force myself to relax, to focus on being the bride for a change. After working, and so much more, with Axel for a little over a year I should know he wouldn’t hire just anyone to cover our wedding.

I suddenly realize the pastor and my husband-to-be are looking at me expectantly. Oh. Crap. Definitely not the time to be thinking of photography. Luckily, I know they can only be waiting on one thing. I smile at Axel. “I do.”

Epilogue 2

Axel

I hold my beautiful wife close as we stand in front of the fireplace, admiring the new portrait hanging over the mantle. It’s a breathtaking painting of Harper, topless, her arms folded gently over her pregnant belly. The artist, a young woman who goes by the name Umbra, works exclusively with black, white, and shades of gray to create images that should be stark with their contrast but are, instead, gentle, almost peaceful. Incredible talent, and I was thrilled when I learned the artist was a woman because, otherwise, this particular pose — our favorite — wouldn’t have happened. There’s simply no way another man will ever see my wife in such an intimate pose.

I feel her gaze upon me and glance down at her, looking into her gorgeous blue eyes. “What are you thinking?” she asks.

I smile and squeeze her shoulder. “I’m thinking I’m the luckiest man in the world to have such a beautiful woman by my side.”

She stands up on her tiptoes and kisses me. “That’s sweet. Want to know what I’m thinking?”

I nod. “Always.”

She places a hand on my chest, letting it slowly slide down. “I’m thinking that I never realized pregnancy would make me horny. All. The. Time.” Her hand slides between my legs and squeezes. She flashes me a wicked grin. “Think you can help with that?”

I grin back at her. “Actually, I think I can.”

◆◆◆

Also by Becca Colton

The Practice Guy Series

Rowdy

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Copyright Notice

Copyright © September 2019 Becca Colton

Cover image ©  DepositPhotos / artem_furman

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author, except in the case of brief quotations used for review purposes.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are solely the product of the author’s imagination and/or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, organizations, actual events or locales is entirely coincidental. The author acknowledges the trademark status of products referred to in this book and acknowledges that trademarks have been used without permission.

This book is intended for mature, adult audiences only. It contains extremely sexually explicit and graphic scenes and language which may be considered offensive by some readers. This book is strictly intended for those over the age of 18.

All sexually active characters in this work are 18 years of age or older. All acts of a sexual nature are completely consensual. No one is related in this book.