by A. m Madden
“That’s a loaded question, but for now set the book down and lie on the chaise.”
Like a good model, she did as I asked. Cassie’s creamy skin, now tinged with a bit of sun, contrasted perfectly with the dark-blue cushion.
“Let your hair down.” She pulled the rubber band out and shook her head. Errant strands framed her face. I stood at the end of the lounger, bringing my camera to my eye. “One arm up, and with the other, take your fingers and grip the string of your bikini bottom.”
I wasn’t going to have her pull it, because unlike her book heroine, I didn’t want anyone walking in on us. Everyone could be back soon, and there was no way I was going to put Cassie in that position. Plus, I decided, her body was for my eyes only.
“Don’t tug on it, just hold it out to the side.”
She let out another resigned sigh but did as I asked. “Now look at me.” Like before, she glared. I let out a chuckle. “Not like you want to kill me, but like you want to fuck me.”
Surprisingly, that was all it took, because the expression on her face morphed into something I didn’t know existed. It was different from the way she looked at me when we were on my couch. This was a woman who knew how good we were together. How her body came when I plunged deep inside of her. It was my money shot.
“Perfect. Now smile, beautiful.” A brilliant smile lit up her face, causing my breath to catch. Fuck, she truly was perfection, in the most natural of ways. After a few more shots, I lowered the camera. “Okay, we’re done.”
Cassie sat up with a flourish. “Did I do it wrong? I looked stupid, right?”
Wrong? Stupid? This woman had no idea the effect she had on me. “No, Cassandra, just the opposite. Unless you want me to take you upstairs and fuck you, I need to go for a swim. Join me?”
Although I was only half kidding, by biting the corner of her lip, without words Cassie conveyed that was exactly what she wanted as well.
“How about we take a walk on the beach instead? The water was so cold,” she said with a small smile. Her seemingly innocuous comment forced my eyes to focus on her breasts. She’d been out of the water for a while, yet those perfectly pebbled nipples still taunted through the slinky black fabric of her bathing suit.
I slid my gaze back up to her face in time to witness a rosy tinge spreading over her cheeks. “Okay, beautiful, a walk it is.” I picked up my camera and vowed no more pictures of her would be taken without her permission.
Cassie reached into her bag, tucked her book away, and shrugged on her cover-up. I hated seeing that little black bikini hidden beneath fabric, even if it was sheer, but it was probably better for my sanity.
In two swift movements she had her ponytail refastened on the top of her head. “Ready?” she asked, looking so young and… I didn’t want to use the word innocent, as I knew there was a streak in her that could bring any man to his knees. I’d seen it, a conspicuous hunger that made me want to do filthy things to her and then hold her the rest of the night.
Side by side, we headed down the deck stairs toward the beach as I subtly adjusted myself. Nylon board shorts weren’t exactly ideal at hiding a man’s truth.
Cassie
The narcotic power of his words and actions made the ache between us grow. Even him joking about my book and taking pictures of him lit a fire within me. Damn this man and his sex appeal. The thing was, it went beyond that. Below the brawn and cocky attitude was a kind man—one who could make me lose all sense of reason.
Warm salty air fluttered around the hem of my cover-up. Everything about my feet in the sand, the sun shining, and the sound of the ocean made me happy. But the way Dante looked at me rivaled all other things. His eyes held a possessive quality, one I’d never seen aimed in my direction… it was one that defied reason, but I oddly enjoyed it.
“This was the perfect end to my summer vacation. The next ten months of my life will be spent in a stuffy classroom.” It wouldn’t be long until the air cooled, leaves turned different shades of red, and sweaters replaced sleeveless shirts.
“I thought you loved being a teacher,” Dante said with curiosity.
“I do. It just takes me a little bit to get back into the swing of things. By October, I’m ready for fall, but summer is my favorite time of year.”
“I can understand that. I’m not a fan of the winter months either. That’s why living in California was right up my alley. Even at its coldest, it didn’t compare to November in Chicago.” Dante shivered at the memory.
“I’m assuming that in your line of work you would be on the West Coast more often than Chicago. Unless, unbeknownst to me, Chicago has turned into a fashion mecca.”
“I was under contract with Flair magazine but much prefer to freelance. There’s something to be said about making your own schedule and deciding what and who to photograph.”
“To me the entire world of fashion photography seems exciting. Was that what you always wanted to do?”
He let out a hearty chuckle. “No, that’s just half right. I’ve always wanted to be a photographer, but the fashion part fell into my lap… sort of.”
“How so? Did you know someone in the fashion business?”
“Not exactly,” he said, coming to a stop beside me.
“What?” I asked, grinning at the guilty look written all over his face.
“Let’s sit.”
“Oh… I need to sit down for this?” The trepidation in his eyes caused me to plant my ass on the sand, anxious to hear what he was hiding.
Dante turned to look at me. “One other person knows about this. Can you be trusted?” His words were teasing, but the question was straightforward.
Not knowing who the other person was, or what he was about to confess, there was only one way to answer. “Yes, you can trust me.” A shot of heightened anticipation touched my spine. “But I’m dying to know. So spill it, Benedetto.”
His mocha-brown eyes crinkled with amusement but continued to gauge my expression. “While in college, Luca and I were lucky enough that our parents footed the entire bill. However, my extracurricular activities were on me, and California wasn’t inexpensive. My time was limited, so I needed a job that didn’t take a lot of hours but made me a decent amount of money…”
“Oh my God, you were an escort?” I half joked, until I realized he wasn’t laughing.
“No… close. I was a stripper.”
“You’re funny.”
“I’m serious.” He shrugged like it was no big deal. “It’s why I got my nipple pierced. Helped with tips.”
I tilted my head, absorbing what he had casually dumped on me. “I can see it.” Remembering how he moved at Alessandro’s, I most definitely could imagine Dante on stage as a room full of women gawked, shoving money into his… “What did you strip down to?”
“A very skimpy G-string,” he responded, raising a brow. “You’re imagining it, aren’t you?”
“Most definitely.” Why bother denying it? I would need to see that routine in person.
Reading my thoughts, his expression turned from teasing to smoldering before he said, “I’d be happy to give you a private performance whenever you like. I may be a bit rusty, but it’s probably like riding a bike.”
“I couldn’t ever do something like that.”
“Sure you could.” As I shook my head in denial he reached over, surprising me by cupping my face. “Cassandra, the way you danced with me, the way you posed for me, you absolutely could if you allowed yourself to let go.”
“Let go?” I said with a sarcastic laugh. “I don’t know the meaning of it. Even after all those years in dancing school, ballet was my only option because of its sophistication.”
Now it was his turn to laugh. “Sophistication? Dancing should be an expression of one’s self. Did you even like ballet?”
“No,” I responded truthfully. “It was boring.”
“So then why did you do it?”
“It was all part of the Brooks family protocol.” I stop
ped, not wanting to get into it with him. The last thing I needed was for Dante to think I was some sort of prude. Then again, it could explain my behavior since the night we had sex. Changing the subject, I asked, “I still don’t understand how that led to photography.”
“The owner of the club I danced in knew I studied photography and asked me to take shots for her ad campaign. Seemed reasonable, and that was something I could use on my résumé. A big fashion editor saw the ad, and long story short, my stripper career ended shortly after, and my fashion photography career began.”
“Now that makes sense. I guess things happen for a reason, and stripping led you to your dream job.”
“Not exactly. I do love what I do, but it wasn’t always what I dreamed of.” I watched as he distractedly plucked a flat shell from the sand and rubbed it between his fingers. I took the opportunity to admire every manly inch of him. The camera strap crossed over his lean, tan torso, just below his piercing. The sun highlighted every dip and crevice of muscle. Even the position of his bent legs, long and muscular, peppered with the right amount of hair, was a turn-on. But I’d have to admit, watching as he sat contemplating whatever was on his mind, wondering what caused his jaw to tighten and his throat to bob with a swallow, made him even more intriguing… and even sexier.
“What do you dream of doing?” I asked, it being the next logical question. Dante’s contemplative gaze swung my way and his eyes widened a fraction, making me wonder if he had been so lost in thought he didn’t hear me.
“For one semester I studied abroad, and luck brought me the opportunity to complete an apprenticeship in Milan under the notorious photographer Matteo Romano. We developed a friendship, and I eventually became his protege. That experience changed me.”
Hearing what inspired Dante fascinated me. “How so?”
“Because of Matteo, I’d love my work to be in a gallery someday, a museum maybe. An exhibit of stills and not people. I’d love to travel every corner of the earth and encapsulate its uniqueness. Not everything is beautiful. Being able to take something ugly yet make it interesting enough to have it speak to the person staring at it is what challenges me. I see a story in everything I shoot. One of my goals is to have my photos capture either a person, place, or time. Maybe even an inanimate object… the subject isn’t as important as the story it holds.” That surprised me more than his admission of stripping. He looked so comfortable photographing people, until I remembered him stopping to take a picture of a pigeon at the park, which along with his admission suddenly gave a deeper retrospective of the man behind his lens. “You look shocked by that,” he said, picking up on my reaction.
“No, not shocked in a bad way. It just seems so different than what you actually do photograph.” I didn’t want to insult him. Insinuating he had that artsy quirk that made people who didn’t appreciate art question why he saw beauty would out my insecurities. Or reveal why I questioned how he believed I was pretty enough to be photographed by a professional like him.
Dante continued to stare at me, waiting for an elaboration. “Okay, like that day at the park, the things you took notice of confused me. And the framed stills in your room. I get it now. A brilliant photographer can find beauty in anything, and not just gorgeous supermodels. Now that I’ve gotten to know you a bit, I think you possess that quality, Dante.”
In the way he regarded me for a moment, I wondered if he understood why I felt unworthy of being photographed. “I don’t find beauty in everything, Cassandra. But when beauty does capture my attention, it tends to consume me.” He paused, allowing me to absorb his words. “Back to you. I’m curious about this protocol you mentioned in your family. Tell me what you meant.”
“I’d rather not.” That wasn’t a road I wished to travel with Dante. Hell, Mr. Intriguing in everything he did wouldn’t understand the world I grew up in. I stood and brushed sand off the back of my legs. “Ready to head back?”
He gripped my wrist and tugged hard enough that I landed on his lap. His compelling gaze boring into mine felt more serene than interrogating. After he cocked a brow and I still hadn’t spoken, he said, “We’re staying right here until you explain.”
Chapter 14
Dante
Forcing Cassie on my lap with her face inches from mine, her sweet ass pressing against my cock, may not have been the best-laid plan on my part. Because all I wanted to do was roll us over to devour every inch of her… public beach or not.
Needing to avoid being arrested, I repositioned her until she straddled my thighs and her butt rested on the space of sand between them. “So? I’m waiting. What did you mean about protocol?” Predictably, her crystal-blue eyes shifted away from mine. Holding her chin between my thumb and forefinger, I brought her attention back to me. “Talk to me, Cassandra.”
“It’s stupid, and embarrassing.” Wisps of her blond hair gently blew across her face. I tucked a strand behind her ear, prompting her to explain with my expectant expression. “I had a very structured childhood. A dad on the medical board, a mom involved in every charitable event our town hosted. Private schools, etiquette school, and not only the ballet classes I mentioned, but ballroom dancing as well. Because we all know possessing the skills needed for a proper foxtrot is what life is all about,” she rambled on, finishing with an exasperated eye roll. “It was all a bit stifling, until I got to the city and started teaching. I love my parents, and they are very generous and good-hearted. They’re just a bit dull.”
What she just revealed explained a lot, although I had suspected a naughty side through sparks of mischief in her eyes when we had sex. In the short time I’d known her, I could tell she was so much more than a kindergarten teacher who loved to read.
“Was teaching your idea or theirs?”
“Mine. If they had their wish, I’d be married to a surgeon, raising my own kids and not a classroom full of others’ children.” She paused to stare at the ocean. “I love kids, love watching them grow and mature under my instruction. Encouraging them to be whatever they want to be.”
“But?” I could tell she became increasingly uneasy under my scrutiny, but I wasn’t going to back down. Cassie needed to be challenged. Maybe challenged wasn’t the correct word… provoked, stimulated, spurred to step outside her comfort zone?
“But nothing.”
“Is teaching your dream job?” As she parted her lips to speak, I stopped her by brushing my thumb across them. “Don’t say yes yet. Think about it. If you could do anything at all, what would you love to do?”
With the sexiest show of confidence, she looked me in the eye and said, “Strip?” That one fucking word unleashed a barrage of lust that traveled from my brain to my cock. The way my mouth hung open in shock must have been what caused her to giggle adorably. “Gotcha.”
When I gripped her ass and pulled her closer, close enough to torture me, the levity fell off her face. “Be careful, Cassandra. Kidding or not, I’ll be holding you to that.” My eyes dropped to witness her tongue skimming over her lips. Ignoring everything and everyone, I closed the distance and did what I’d been wanting to do all day.
I was pretty sure the way our bodies pressed together, while our mouths forgot we were on a public beach, could be considered indecent. Honestly, I had zero fucks to give. The more I tasted her, the more I fought the urge to lay her flat and fuck her senseless.
Everything I’d missed since our night together came crashing back into my subconscious. And I hadn’t realized I missed it so fucking much until now. I knew I wanted her, but damn, I really hadn’t considered how much. Scenarios began flipping through my mind as I weighed the consequences of staying where we were or running back to the house and hoping the rest were still out. The dilemma nagged with each heated kiss, each grind of our hips. I needed her, and a ridiculous part of my logic actually considered taking her right then and there.
Funny enough, though, a higher power felt otherwise, because a surge of water came rushing over our bodies, causing Cassie t
o squeal. The goddamned surf snapped her back to reality, forcing her to bolt off my lap. Annoyed, she lifted her drenched cover-up to wring it out, and in the process revealed those stunning toned legs. While coated in sand and seawater, getting a glimpse of the black nylon covering her pussy made it impossible for me to stand without bringing attention to the hard-on tenting my suit.
“Oh my God! I have sand everywhere. Something is on me!” She reached around to the back of her leg and plucked a piece of slimy seaweed off. “Eww!” After flinging it away, she started spinning, mimicking Wonder Woman while peeling off her wet, sand-coated cover-up and dropping it to the ground. In nothing but that fucking string bikini, a visual I’d never forget, she asked, “Is there any more on me?” Ignoring her, I lifted my camera and started snapping shots in rapid succession to capture it for selfish reasons. “Dante! Stop taking pictures and help me! I feel gross.”
“Okay, okay.” I chuckled and still managed to take two more shots before conceding to her demands. In a swift motion, I set my camera on her discarded clothing, tossed her over my shoulder, and ran into the ocean. It took a few seconds for it to register where we were headed. At the first splash of salt water, the squirming and squealing began.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m helping.”
While hanging upside down, her hands clenched the sides of my waist. “This isn’t helping. I swear to God if you drop me, I’m going to kill you.” Undeterred by her threat, I took a few more steps into the ocean, earning me a firm slap on my left ass cheek. My response was to smack her back. “Ouch!”
“I thought you wanted to play?”
“I’m not playing; we need to get back. You’re making things worse. Now I’m even more drenched than I was before. Let me down.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I slowly lowered her, enjoying how every inch of her slid down every inch of me. First, her tits grazed my shoulder. Then, with my hands on her rounded ass, I positioned her body flush against mine, giving her no other option but to straddle my torso. “Since you riled me up, before I attempt to walk back to the house, I need to cool down.”
