by Tracy Wolff
She took a couple pictures of him open-mouthed with shock. A few more with a pouty little boy look she hadn’t even known he was capable of.
But when his eyes began to gleam wickedly, she asked warily, “What are you up to?”
“I was just remembering what you taste like.” His Cajun accent had thickened dangerously. “Thinking about how much I want to slip my tongue inside you again.”
She nearly dropped the camera as a blush spread from her breasts to her face. “Stop it!” she hissed. “I need to concentrate.”
“Me too, cher.” he commented, grinning. “ ’Cuz the only way I’m gonna sit here and let you take naked pictures of me is if I get to fantasize while you do it.”
“Fantasize all you want,” she said with a stern look. “But keep your thoughts to yourself.” She raised the camera again, loving the mischievous look on his face.
“That’s not nearly entertaining enough for me. Now I would be highly entertained if I could pull your gorgeous little nipple into my mouth. I would roll it around on my tongue, savoring every sweet centimeter as my hand crept down and stroked your clit.”
“Stop.” She was breathless.
“Stop what, mon amour? Stop thinking about you? Stop touching you? I can’t.” His eyes gleamed and he licked his lips. “You want me to stop swirling my tongue around your nipple? To stop stroking your clit with my thumb? Stop thrusting my fingers inside that hot little ass of yours? Inside your beautiful cunt? But you’re so hot, so wet and tight around my fingers. You feel so good. I can’t stop and you wouldn’t want me to if I could.”
Serena tried to block out his voice as she snapped picture after picture. But it was no use. He was seducing her—with the looks he gave the camera and the words that wrapped themselves intimately around her. “Kevin—” Her voice was a husky plea.
“Spread your legs for me, Serena. Let me see what you won’t let me touch.”
She whimpered, tried to fight the black-magic of his voice, but her need for him was too strong. With a sigh, she spread her legs, incredibly conscious of the air-conditioning hitting her bare ass.
His eyes blazed as he stared at her. “That’s it, bebe. That’s a good girl. You’re so beautiful there, like a flower unfolding just for me. So many shades of pink. Have you ever seen yourself spread open like this? Have you ever really looked?”
She shook her head, bit her lip as desire crashed through her. “Sit up,” she said, desperate to regain control of the situation.
His eyes laughed at her, as if he knew what she was trying to do. But he sat, bringing his knees up to hide his incredible erection from the camera.
“No,” she said. “Bring your knee down. Let me see it.”
Kevin’s eyes grew heavy with his own need, even as he moved to follow her instructions. His cock grew longer and harder under her gaze and for a minute she could think of nothing but kneeling in front of him. She wanted to pull him into her mouth again, needed to taste the salty sweetness of him as she slowly licked him up and down.
“Should I tell you what I see?” he asked, his voice lower, huskier than before.
Their eyes met through the camera lens, held for a moment. Then he looked away, his eyes burning a trail between her legs. “You’re swollen and slick. I can see the wetness glistening on you, like morning dew on flower petals.” He reached for his water bottle as her numb fingers reloaded the camera.
“You grow darker, pinker with each layer of petals. Your innermost folds are deep rose, nearly red. Especially when you’re aroused.” His breathing was harsh, his chest shuddering with each inhalation. “You are aroused, aren’t you, Serena?”
She couldn’t answer. She tried to concentrate on his face, on the look of intense concentration he wore. But he was huge, magnificent, and she couldn’t stop herself from lowering the camera, from looking at his magnificent erection as it stood straight and proud.
She clicked the picture, wound the film, clicked again. He was right. These pictures weren’t going in the book; they were for her eyes only, each one more delectable than the one that came before.
“Serena?” He called her name, his eyes still focused on the bounty between her legs. “You are aroused. I can see you getting wetter and darker. You’re swelling, your hips are moving back and forth to ease the ache. Put the camera down and let me touch you.” He wove a spell around her with his voice. “Let me taste you.”
She shook her head, pressed back against the wall. “Not yet.” Her voice was strained, her nipples tight and aching.
“No?” He shrugged. He leaned back on his elbow, let his hand stroke his cock under her hungry gaze. “Then touch yourself.” Her eyes widened and he laughed. “You do touch yourself, don’t you, cher? Late at night, when you’re all alone? You rub your nipples, stroke yourself between your legs, circle your finger around your hot little clit. I know you do.” He continued to stroke himself, his thumb catching the drop of moisture that escaped from his tip and slowly rubbing it into the dark purple head of his cock.
Her mouth watered and the camera clattered noisily to the ground. She wanted him, needed his hardness inside her. But Kevin had no mercy as she reached for him. “Oh no, bebe. You had your fun. Now it’s time for me to have mine.”
She glared at him, whimpering, as her hips moved helplessly against the floor.
“Put your finger in your mouth. Get it nice and wet,” he murmured, his eyes watching her intently as she followed his directions. “Now swirl it around your nipple. That’s it, nice and slow. Squeeze your nipple between your thumb and finger. Harder, bebe. Rub your thumb over it. Does that feel good?”
“Yes,” she whispered as her head fell back and she rubbed both her nipples. Fire shot down her body and she could feel herself growing hotter, wetter just as he said she would. With a moan, she slowly lowered a hand to her thighs. Under Kevin’s watchful gaze she began to stroke herself.
“Slide a finger inside. Oh yeah, that’s fanstastic. Now another one. Find your sweet spot and stroke, slowly—in and out.” His eyes gleamed wickedly as her hips rocked against the floor, desperate for relief from the intensity of his words.
“I love touching you there, feeling how wet and hot you are for me. You are wet, aren’t you, cher? Wet and hot and dying for me?”
“Kevin—” she moaned, her voice sounding as desperate as she felt.
“Serena,” he mimicked, his eyes searing hers. “Now put our thumb on your clit. No, keep your fingers inside while you do it. That’s right, cher. That’s right. Now tap softly. No stroking yet. Just that soft up and down with your finger. How’s that feel?”
She struggled for breath, shocked at how incredibly good it felt to do as he said. “Fabulous,” she gasped, intensifying the motion as she felt her climax growing closer and closer. She wasn’t sure what was more erotic—touching herself in front of Kevin or watching him stroke himself into even fuller arousal.
“Good.” He grinned. “Does it feel as fabulous as my cock inside of you? As my tongue on you, licking you, slipping inside you?”
His words intensified her feelings and with one more stroke Serena shattered. Her mouth dropped open in a surprised O as she rode out the waves of her orgasm, her legs spread, fingers thrusting desperately inside of herself.
Kevin watched her pleasure herself, heat spiraling through him at an unbelievable rate. His cock was full, ready to explode. His balls ached with the pleasure-pain of restraint. But he refused to move, refused to do anything that might prematurely end the exquisite sight of Serena coming. Cheeks flushed, eyes blazing, lips swollen—she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. A melting tenderness spread through him, even as his need grew urgent.
Serena gasped a little as her orgasm waned and he grinned, imagining the pleasure in making her shatter again and again. If he wasn’t careful, making her come could become an incredibly addictive pastime. Her head lolled back against the wall while her hand lay intimately draped between her still-spread thighs.
Other women might have been embarrassed, but not his beautiful little photographer. Still caught up in the power of her release, she lay still, savoring the sweet aftershocks he could see rocking her body.
Before he could stop himself, he scooted forward and wrapped a hand around her delicate wrist. Her eyes opened drowsily and she smiled. He stopped for a moment, stunned by the power and beauty of that smile. He had to re-create it, had to find a way to make it a part of the art that was as necessary to him as breathing. A part to hold on to when she was gone.
He shrugged away the unwelcome thought, bringing her into the shelter of his arms. “You are magnificent,” he whispered against her lips.
“You’re pretty terrific yourself.” Her hand slid down between their bodies, capturing him and pumping back and forth. He saw stars.
“You’re playing with fire,” he warned, thrusting back and forth against her warm palm.
“Then aren’t you glad I’m not afraid of getting burned?”
“Damn straight.” Though it cost him, he put his hand over hers, stopping the incredible motion. “I can wait, Serena.”
She rubbed her thumb over the drop on the head of his cock, then brought it to her mouth and sucked. “It doesn’t look like it,” she murmured with a grin.
His cock jerked in reaction to her sexy smile and honesty. “If you’re sore …” His voice trailed off as she pressed her body against his.
Her smile was wicked. “Not that sore,” she murmured as she crawled over him.
Kevin’s cock settled between her legs and Serena gasped at the first touch of it against her delicate inner folds. She was so sensitive that just the touch of him sent waves of pleasure skating up her spine. Desire—hot and hard—hit her and suddenly all she could think about was getting him inside of her.
She rocked against him, whimpering softly as need overwhelmed her. But Kevin misunderstood her desperation. “Too sore?” he rasped as his hands, trembling softly, locked on to her hips and tried to lift her away.
“No!” She struggled against his restraining fingers as swells of need rushed through her. She was going to die, to spontaneously combust at any second.
“I don’t care. I—” Her voice broke and desire swamped her—shook her—until Kevin was all that was solid and steady around her.
“Bebe—” His hands moved soothingly along her back, but she was too far gone to be calmed by a soft touch.
“Kevin—” she whimpered, her hips moving frantically against him. “I need—” Her voice broke again.
“I know, cher—” And then he was lifting her, ignoring her cries of protest, until she was poised above him. Her knees on either side of his head. Her pussy directly above his mouth.
He whispered something low and guttural and obscene, his breath hot and welcome against her. And then he thrust his tongue deep inside of her.
She came with a scream, her body spiraling completely out of her control until she shattered—completely and irrevocably. She felt—actually felt—herself break into myriad pieces, her mind fragmenting until she couldn’t speak, couldn’t think.
Serena spun outside of herself to a place where only feeling existed, sensation after sensation flooding her, swamping her, frightening her with its intensity. She struggled against the tidal wave for long moments, terrified of losing herself in the never-ending pleasure. She bucked against his mouth but he held her still, his incredible strength allowing her no surcease from the emotions all but ripping her apart.
“Kevin, stop. I can’t—”
“You can.” His voice was lower, harsher than she’d ever heard it and when she glanced into his eyes she was trapped by the flames flickering there, building to a towering inferno that threatened to consume every part of her.
His tongue—his wicked, wonderful tongue—went from deep thrusts to long, luxurious licks that had ecstasy trembling along nerve endings that hadn’t yet recovered from his first embrace. His teeth found her clit and closed gently over it even as his eyes stared deeply into hers—claiming her, branding her, demanding a response she wasn’t sure she could give.
She made a high keening sound, her hips moving against him as he thrust first one finger and then another inside of her. He stroked her G-spot—once, twice—then pulled out to spread the hot liquid of her response over and around her anus. He circled the tight bud again and again and she nearly screamed, pleasure rocketing through her.
Finally—finally—he thrust his finger inside at the same time his tongue swept over and around her clit. Another orgasm slammed through her—fast and hard and never-ending—and this time she did scream before she could stop herself.
Kevin grinned against her even as he pulled her clit into his mouth and began to suck. His hands held her hips still, poised above him for perfect access. He continued to torment her—sucking, licking, spearing his tongue deep inside of her—until one orgasm blended into another. And another. The more sensitive she grew, the more he continued. She couldn’t talk, couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe and still he persisted. She bucked wildly against him, twisting and pulling in an effort to get away from his ravenous mouth. But he refused to relent.
“Kevin, no,” she finally gasped. He had to stop. He had to. She couldn’t survive another—
His tongue speared deep and hurtled her into another climax. She’d lost count of how many times she’d come, lost track of everything but the ecstasy ravaging her body with each movement of Kevin’s mouth. He was devouring her, pushing her beyond any and all limits until she couldn’t recognize the tormented, pleading woman she was fast becoming.
“Yes,” he growled as his tongue fluttered from her clit to her anus and back again. “You’ll come for me over and over and over again. I’ll never get enough of you, Serena. I’ll never get enough of this.”
Once again he pulled her clit between his teeth and began to suck and once again she came, stars exploding in front of her dazed eyes as she trembled and sobbed and pleaded with him to take her.
Finally—finally—when she was on the brink of insanity and control was a word she could no longer comprehend, he pulled her away and rolled so that she was suddenly beneath him, her body shaking as yet another orgasm ripped through her.
She grabbed on to his shoulder, her nails digging deep without her knowledge or consent as she pleaded, “I’m dying, Kevin. I’m dying. You have to fuck me. You have to—”
Serena’s breathy pleas ran through him like a live electric current and he felt his control snap. With one powerful thrust, he buried himself balls-deep within her. She was slick and wet and so fucking hot that for a moment he was afraid he’d come before he could bring her to orgasm again.
Then she whimpered—her hands pulling at his hair, her legs wrapping themselves around his waist, her cunt pulling at his cock—and he knew he wasn’t ready for it to end yet.
He rode her hard, his hands braced beneath her hips to lift her higher, open her wider, for his penetration. Over and over he thrust into her velvet heat until he was on fire, flames of ecstasy burning through his brain, down his spine, over his cock. And still he slammed into her, determined to make the pleasure last. Determined to bury himself so deeply inside of her that she could never get him out.
Sweat beaded on his chest, rolled down his back and still he continued thrusting, over and over again—as hard and as deep as he could go. His arms trembled, his cock screamed for relief and still he pushed himself inside of Serena.
She was sobbing, screaming, her muscles clutching more tightly at him with every thrust. Her nails were digging into his back, drawing blood with every push of his body. Her back was arching, her legs shaking as he drove into her—over and over—with all the power and strength that he had.
He was buried deep when he felt the climax rip through her, a deep, dark tsunami so powerful that it swamped him, buried him, dragged him under before he could fight it. He felt his own orgasm tear through him, the never-ending pulses of her body sending him so far over the ed
ge that he feared he’d never recover.
It started at the base of his spine and spread outward—through his cock, his stomach, up his back, around to his chest. Pleasure, pain, passion roaring through him, flowing from him to her and back again as he emptied himself inside of her in a series of powerful, all-encompassing waves.
When it was over, when he’d given her everything that he had, he rolled so that she rested above him. And wondered, grimly, if it was enough.
Chapter Nine
That bitch! He’d trusted her, taken care of her, loved her for years and she would dare throw it in his face like this? Bad enough that she stayed out in that bayou with him taking pictures for that absurd book. Worse still, that she’d come to San Diego with him. But to cancel her room—to decide to stay in his suite with him. Had she no shame?
He imagined that filthy laborer’s hands all over her and he wanted to scream in denial. Serena was his. His. How dare this man think to touch her? How dare she let him?
The fury was back—so hot and uncontrolled that it spewed out of him before he could stop it.
“Bitch! Whore!” He wasn’t aware of throwing his scotch until the glass shattered against the mirror lining one wall of the luxurious hotel suite he’d checked into only hours before. The mirror cracked and he walked toward it, fascinated. Amber liquid dripped from it, catching in the cracks and sliding slowly onto the plush carpet. The closer he got, the more of himself he could see in the mirror. But he was distorted, in pieces, his features randomly placed on his face.
“No!” He screamed in agonized denial. Not here, not now—when he was so close to having her as his own. “It’s just the mirror,” he muttered to himself. “Just the broken mirror.” He was whole, normal, perfect. It was just the mirror that—
His hand—a tightly curled fist—lashed out and struck the broken glass. Agony ripped through him as the skin over his knuckles shredded. But a few pieces of the cursed mirror had fallen and the pain was worth it. With a hoarse cry he hit the mirror again, this time slicing a deep gash into the side of his hand as more of the mirror crumbled away.
