by Anna Durand
"May I come in?" Val asked.
"Uh…just a minute." I snatched a tissue off the box on the table and wiped my fingers with it. Jumping up, I straightened my nightie. "Come in."
The door opened. Val sauntered inside.
He swept his gaze over my rumpled sheets and then up to my face. "Your cheeks are pink. Aren't you feeling well?"
Alive, that's how I felt. Aching and tingling in all the right places. The sight of his nude body did not help matters.
"I'm fine," I said. "Thank you for making me breakfast. I'll be there in a minute, after I get dressed."
"Don't dress on my account." He raked his hot gaze over my body. "You can wear nothing at all. I'm a nudist, remember?"
Right. Hard to forget that fact. Even if I'd been tempted to go naked this morning, with him, it was a bad idea.
Tempted? I wanted to tear my nightie off right this instant.
"I'll, ah, see you in a few minutes," I said. "In the kitchen."
"Whatever you want." He sauntered out of my bedroom.
How would I survive two weeks with him? Quentin had better finish repairing Val's room in the guest house fast.
I dressed in my favorite shorts and a mint-green crop top, then joined Val in the kitchen.
He'd cooked me a huge breakfast—an omelet stuffed chock-full of veggies, sausage, and three kinds of cheese. A plate of buttered toast waited beside my breakfast platter, with jars of every kind of jam and jelly I owned lined up next to it. He'd made hash browns too, plus adorable silver dollar pancakes.
I didn't even mind that he'd made breakfast while naked. Since this was a private meal, rather than one for the other guests, I decided he hadn't violated the health code.
After gobbling up my breakfast, I insisted on washing the dishes.
"I'll allow it," Val said, "only if you let me help you get breakfast ready for the guests."
"For the millionth time, you are a guest."
"No, I'm your slave."
The tone of his voice, deep and rumbly, told me he meant "slave" in a different way from what most people would've meant. Later today, I'd photograph his gorgeous, nude body—just the two of us in my little studio, inside this house, away from the other guests. Having him as my slave? That made my tummy flutter.
"Fine," I said. "You can be my breakfast assistant if you get dressed first. Straight after that, though, I have to prepare my studio for the portrait sessions."
"I can help—"
"You're sweet to offer, but I prefer to get things set up on my own." I hopped off my stool. "You came here to be nude and free, but you've spent half the time in clothes because you insist on helping out. I feel like I've cramped your style."
"There's no cramping. I like assisting you."
"As a favor to me, why don't you hang out with the other guests until it's your turn in the studio?"
He bowed from the waist. "If that's what you want, linda, your slave will obey."
Since he'd been the last to sign up for a session, he'd gotten the last time slot. I would photograph him after everyone else, meaning I would have no easy excuse to cut the session short. Did I want to cut it short? Why was I trying so hard to avoid having sex with him? We were both adults. No one but his family knew he'd come here. His wild life would not tarnish mine, which meant I had no excuses left.
Right, because that had worked out so well before.
The last time I'd engaged in casual sex, it had triggered a hairy situation. Quentin still seemed to think he owned me. And the more I thought about what Val had said, about Quentin taking advantage of me in my tipsy state, the more I wondered if he was right.
Val wouldn't be like Quentin. He would stay for two weeks and go home. We would never see each other again.
Quentin I had to look at every day.
Maybe I should've fired Quentin, but firing an employee I'd slept with might trigger legal ramifications I couldn't afford. Besides, Quentin did his job very well and was the only handyman I'd found who didn't mind working at a nudist resort.
Five hours later, Val and I had taken care of breakfast for the guests and I had photographed a dozen of them. The portraits weren't sexual, but rather just like regular portraits somebody might get at a regular photo studio. The only difference was my subjects were naked.
My little studio occupied a space that had originally served as a bedroom. The room featured one curtained window, various lights plus an umbrella, several backgrounds I could set up and swap out quickly, a fan to offset the heat from the lights, and extra power outlets I'd had installed to accommodate my equipment. If my guests needed a drink during our shoots, I went to the kitchen to get it for them. A stereo tucked into the corner provided mood music. I preferred something relaxing to keep my guests in a good mood.
The centerpiece of my whole setup was my camera, of course. A couple years ago, I'd upgraded to a Canon EOS 5D Mark IV DSLR that cost over three thousand dollars. It had seemed like an extravagance at the time, but I'd earned back the cost and then some thanks to these photo sessions. My guests loved getting tasteful images of themselves to take home.
Right on time, Val strode into my studio.
He turned his head left and right, admiring the room like it was the inside of the Sistine Chapel. "Very nice. This is a professional studio."
"Mm-hmm." I gestured toward the chair set up in the center of the room. "Have a seat."
"In the chair?" He walked a circle around it, scrutinizing the piece of furniture, then stopped and shook his head at me. "I won't be posing in a chair."
"Well, I guess you can stand for the whole session."
"No, Eve." He moved the chair out of the way and sat down on the floor. "This will do."
"Okay, if you really want to sit on the floor the whole time, I guess—"
He stretched out on his side, his head propped up with one hand. "I'm ready."
"Uh, people generally sit or stand for portraits."
"No boudoir photos? I'd think at least a few people would want that."
I couldn't resist skimming my gaze over his body and licking my lips when I reached his groin. "Only a couple of people wanted sexy photos. My guests like that my pictures are tasteful and respectful. The ones who wanted boudoir stuff were older couples looking to spice up their love lives." Somehow, I managed to tear my attention away from his manly bits to meet his gaze. "Are you sure you wouldn't rather sit on the chair like everybody else?"
"Would you want me to be like other people?"
No, absolutely not. "The floor is awfully hard to lie on for very long. I've got an idea."
Racing into the corner of the room where I'd stashed various props and background screens, I retrieved a padded mat, more like a cushion really. Val got up when I started dragging the bed-size cushion toward him. He grabbed one end and took the thing away from me, laid it down where he'd been a moment ago, and stretched out on his side again—this time on the crimson cushion.
"Comfy?" I asked.
He patted the cushion. "Yes, very."
"Normally, I use the padded mat for photographing babies and toddlers." I drank in the sight of Val the human supernova laid out across the crimson mat, and my mouth watered. Seriously, it did. "The color suits you."
"How would you like me?"
The erotic rumble of his voice, molten and decadent, rippled heat through me. I gripped my camera against my belly, and though I tried not to ogle him anymore, I failed. His nude body standing up or sitting down was breathtaking. Lying there stretched out like a Roman emperor awaiting his concubine… God, he was beyond hot. Especially the way he kept looking at me. Brown eyes warm as melted caramel. Tongue flicking out to moisten his lips. And that penis, so thick and long. Holy hotness. I'd never seen anything as gorgeous and tempting as Val Silva.
Why was I resisting the urge to get horizontal with him? I knew there'd been a reason, but suddenly, I couldn't remember what it was.
His lips slid into a sensual smile. "Are you going to photograph me? Or would you rather join me here on the floor?"
My mouth opened, but I couldn't summon any words. Join him? Yeah, oh hell yeah, I wanted to do that.
Why shouldn't I? Maybe he was the kind of bad boy I tried to avoid, but it wasn't like we had paparazzi way out here in the boonies of Oregon.
Screw it. I wanted him, he wanted me, and we were both consenting adults.
"Let me take a few shots first," I said. "You are paying for this session, after all."
He tipped his head to the side, not blinking when he asked, "And then you'll join me?"
I wandered over to the stereo and the iPod docked to it. Yeah, I was old school. I didn't like listening to music on my phone the way a lot of people did these days. Flipping through my playlists, I found an album that fit the mood, a collection of songs by Delerium. An ethereal feminine voice crooned to a sensual, exotic rhythm.
"Yes," I said, returning to Val and raising the camera, "after I take some shots, I will join you."
He skated his palm over the velvety cushion beneath him. "Naked?"
I regarded him through the LCD screen on the back of my camera, framing up a good shot. "Since we'll be having sex, yes, I'll take my clothes off."
A grin spread across his face, lighting up his entire expression.
I pressed the shutter button, capturing a shot of him in that moment when he'd realized I wanted to fuck right here, right now. My heartbeat sped up, and my nipples pearled. He had a killer grin, for sure.
"You should be a model," I said, taking another picture. I peeked at him over the top of my camera, though he couldn't see it. "Oh wait, you already are."
As I moved around him, snapping shot after shot, I got more and more aroused by the sight of him. He didn't preen or do any of the silly poses hotshot models might do. He followed my directions, lifting an arm or sliding a hand into his hair. Honestly, the man looked incredible doing nothing at all. He didn't need to pose, he simply needed to be.
"On your back," I said.
He rolled onto his back and linked his hands under his head.
After one more shot, I set my camera on the chair he'd moved out of the way.
"Is the session over?" he asked.
"Yes, the photography session is." I took hold of my shirt's hem and flipped it up and over my head, letting it sail down to the floor. "But we're just getting started."
He stared at my flimsy bra, and his dick began to swell.
The thin lace of my bra left most of my breasts exposed and revealed the dusky pink of my nipples. They pushed against the fabric, aching for his touch. I shimmied my hips more than necessary as I eased my shorts down over my hips. They fell to the floor, and I stepped out of them.
Val groaned.
My panties were as flimsy as my bra.
I reached behind my back to undo my bra one hook at a time. Once I'd freed them all, I shrugged the bra off my shoulders. It fluttered to the floor, joining my shirt and shorts.
His dick rose up like a flagpole.
Licking my lips, unable to tear my gaze away from his cock, I wriggled out of my panties.
A groan resonated in his chest.
I dropped to all fours and crawled toward him until I straddled his body. My face hovered over his groin and the beautiful, rosy-tipped erection I craved.
"Eve," he said, turning my name into the most erotic thing I'd ever heard, "you surprise me at every turn. I'd expected I would have to seduce you. Instead, here you are climbing up my body with a ravenous look on your face."
"Mmm, I am ravenous." I licked the head of his cock. "For this."
No more excuses. No more waiting.
I gave his erection another long, slow lick. "I want you in my mouth, Val."
Chapter Twelve
Val
I must've been gaping at the woman crouched over the lower half of my body. I couldn't help it. Eve Holt, the woman who'd sworn she wouldn't get naked with me, wanted to take my cock in her mouth. She had already surprised me with her sudden announcement she wanted to have sex. Her little striptease had made me hard, but her desire to give me a blow job stunned me. Wasn't this the same woman who'd said she didn't sleep with guests anymore?
Not that I was complaining. The most enticing woman I'd ever laid eyes on wanted to suck me like a lollipop. What man in his right mind would say no?
I slid a hand into her hair. "You're incredible, Eve. You can be sure I'll go down on you next."
She laved my crown with her tongue, making me suck in a breath. "I look forward to that. But first, I've got to eat you up."
"Don't make me come. I want to save that for when I'm inside you."
"Whatever you want."
"Already have everything I wanted—you, naked, about to let me fuck you."
She puckered her lips and blew a stream of air across my crown.
I groaned.
Eve opened her mouth wide, lowering it to within millimeters of my cock, and exhaled a long, hot breath onto the tip. She raised her head to look at me. "You've got the most beautiful dick I've ever seen."
What else could I do? I grinned like a fool. This woman drove me wild and turned my brain to mush. I combed my fingers through her hair, amazed by her unabashed enthusiasm and by the sheer beauty of her body and her spirit. Other women had gone down on me, but none did it with the tenderness and enjoyment Eve displayed.
"So big too," she said in a husky tone, her breath teasing me with each syllable. "Can't wait to have this inside me."
"Neither can I. Let's skip the foreplay and—"
She ducked her head, pressing her mouth to my inner thigh, and dragged her lips up my flesh. Her silken hair had fallen over my cock to tickle my skin as she moved.
"Fuck, Eve," I growled, my fingers clenching in her hair.
The vixen lifted her head to switch to my other thigh, this time licking and nibbling her way toward my groin. When she'd almost reached it, she raised her head to hit me with a wicked little smile. "I love an ice cream cone before the main course."
"Ice cream?" I said, sounding as baffled as I felt. Baffled and intrigued, not to mention so hot for this woman I was fighting the impulse to flip her over and bury my face between her thighs.
She dragged her tongue up my dick, from the base to near the tip. Humming with pleasure, she did it again. Her eyes drifted partway closed. "Better than ice cream. Better than dark chocolate cake with cream cheese frosting, which I thought I loved more than sex." She took another long, sensuous lick. "May have to reevaluate that. You are the most delicious thing I've ever tasted."
No woman had ever talked to me the way she did while doing what she was doing to me. Maybe I'd died and this was the afterlife, with Eve as my angel guide. She certainly seemed determined to kill me with pleasure.
Her lips sealed around my cock and sank down, down, down until she'd taken as much of me as she could into her mouth. She moaned, the sound vibrating my flesh.
A choked sound spluttered out of me.
She grasped the base with her fist and began to move her mouth up and down, sucking gently, moaning like I was her first meal in weeks. I thrust both hands into her hair, shut my eyes, and let the sensations flood over me. Her soft, warm tongue. The heat of her breaths. The way her hair teased my skin. Every time she pulled her mouth nearly free of my flesh, the dampness left behind by her lips and tongue sent a rush of coolness over my skin. I levered into a sitting position, keeping one hand in her hair, and spread my other palm on her back to caress her in long, slow strokes. The pressure escalated, little by little, with every swipe of her tongue and brush of her hair.
Every muscle inside me went taut. I teetered on the edge, and if she kept going…
She sat up and swept her tongue across her lips.
I almost came just watching her do that.
"Mmm," she said, "I enjoyed that way more than I usu
ally do. Loved it, actually."
She'd loved it. I couldn't comprehend the full meaning of those words, not in my current condition.
"On your knees," I said. "It's your turn."
"My knees?"
"Yes." I lay back on the velvet cushion. "Move this way."
I curled my finger repeatedly, gesturing her to move closer. She rose to her knees and crawled toward me. Her brows crinkled in the sweetest way when I kept crooking my finger, but still she inched ever closer.
"Stop," I said. "That's perfect."
Her glistening pink cleft was positioned above my head. I stretched my hand up, sliding my fingers into the soft, curly hairs on her mound. She bit her lip. I caressed her with my fingertips. She released her lip gradually, her gaze hooded, and my cock throbbed. Eve Holt was beautiful, yes, but she was also the most sensual woman I'd ever known. Whether she realized how her every movement and expression fired up my libido, I didn't know. Her sensuality seemed innate, a part of her she couldn't have hidden if she'd tried.
I skated my other hand up her thigh to curve it around her hip. "You're incredible, Eve. Your body is stunning, but it's what I see inside you that makes me want you so badly."
She smirked. "You're only saying that because you're staring at my vagina."
"No, I'm staring at you." I palmed her mound, my gaze exclusively on her face. "I've never met a woman like you before. I doubt I ever will again."
She stopped blinking. Stopped breathing too, I suspected. Her gaze locked onto mine, the color of her irises seeming deeper and bluer.
"What is it?" I asked.
"That sounded almost…romantic."
"Almost? I must not have said it right."
"This is casual sex, remember?"
"I know, but I can still pay you a compliment. Can't I?"
What I'd said did sound a lot more romantic than the things I usually told women. I would compliment their bodies, not—what had I called it?—the things I saw inside them. This woman made me lose my mind. Anything I'd said to her was instigated by lust, nothing more. I'd met her the day before yesterday, for fuck's sake.
"Sure," she said carefully, "compliments are fine. But don't go getting the idea we might be dating or whatever."
