As he stood above her next to the bed, she sat back on her haunches, her spine straight, her hands primly in her lap, strategically covering her pussy. “Now what?”
“Do what comes naturally.”
She made a face that looked sexy and teasing for the camera. “None of this comes naturally.” But she reached for his cock. He angled the lens to take in her fist wrapping around his hard flesh.
“That’s it, stroke it, baby.”
She caressed him slowly, almost leisurely, then ran her thumb over the tip, gathering a drop of pre-come to swirl over the head. “Mmm, you must like this.”
“You know I love it.”
She cupped his balls, squeezing him. Heat shot through his body.
“You’re corrupting me,” she said, then leaned into him before he could answer and sucked the crown of his cock.
“Christ.” The top of his head felt like it would blow off. He could barely hold the camera steady as sensation rocketed through him. “I must be doing a damn good job of corrupting, then, because this is perfect.”
“Mmm.” Her mouth vibrated around him. She slid him deeper, her eyes closing, her lashes fanned against her cheeks, fingernails a flashy red around the base of his cock as she held him. That was new; she didn’t normally paint her nails.
Then she opened her eyes and looked up at him.
“Jesus,” he uttered with awe. She was so fucking beautiful, her lips and nails the same decadent red against his cock, her face flushed, her eyes a brilliant green where usually they were a gentle hazel. The soft lighting of the room bathed her body with golden hues, and her black pumps, the only thing she wore, were sexy as hell. When she saw the video, she would fall in love with her own image.
“Suck me, baby, please,” he begged. His need would come through clearly. She would feel how badly he wanted her.
Closing her eyes once again, she slid her mouth over him until she left lipstick prints on her hand. Then she pulled all the way back to work the slit of his crown with her tongue.
“Fuck,” he whispered. He wanted to close his eyes and revel in the sensation, but he didn’t want to miss the sight either.
She swirled her tongue down the length of him, blew his mind on the suck back up. She did him fast, she did him slow, she worshiped the tip, then dragged her teeth down him. And all the time, she squeezed and stroked his balls. Had he taught her that? She’d said she’d rarely done this for other men, but for him, she’d become an expert.
“Baby, baby, baby, that’s so good.”
Up, down, inside out, and around, she took him, until his legs started to tremble and his guts churned with need. His balls were tight, he was so close, just another moment of heaven.
“Wait. Stop.”
She opened her eyes, his cock filling her mouth. Beautiful. Perfect.
“It’s time to put the camera on the tripod.”
She didn’t resist one last hard suck that left him almost mindless. His legs felt like rubber, and his hands shook as he affixed the camera to the tripod. He collapsed in his reading chair, spread his legs, and patted his thighs. “Come here.”
She crawled across the carpet on her knees, and he wished to God he’d had that on video, too. Next time.
When she was between his legs, he hit Record on the remote connected to the camera, which also gave him zoom capability at the push of a button. With the view he’d angled it at, his cock sliding in and out of her mouth would be fully visible.
“Take me again, baby, I’m all yours.”
“You’re right,” she murmured, wholly aware of her power over him in that moment.
She took him in her mouth and sucked in earnest. Rand simply laid his head back against the chair and closed his eyes. His hips rose involuntarily, fucking her mouth as she sucked him.
“Jesus, baby, you’re so goddamn good at that,” he praised. “You’re killing me.” His legs began to tremble, and his nuts were hard with need.
Then she took her hand away and deep-throated him. He almost cried, it was so fucking sublime. He punched zoom on the remote, held it that way for long moments, then zoomed out again.
“God, you’re a quick study.”
She hummed her pleasure at his compliments, and he felt it thrum through his cock. She was the perfect student, learning exactly what he liked by the sounds he made. She circled her tongue just under the ridge of his cock, he groaned, and she knew to come back to that. She teased his slit, he gasped, and she remembered, returning again and again to the spot to drive him crazy.
His balls were so tight, they were ready to explode.
“Not yet, baby.” He pulled free of her luscious mouth. “Get on my lap facing the camera.” He grabbed a condom he’d laid on the side table, tore the package, and rolled it on, then shifted for the best camera angle.
“I thought you were just going to videotape me sucking you.”
“This’ll be better.” He guided her, helped her spread her legs over him, his sheathed cock rising up. Putting a finger to her clit, he tested her. Her body jerked, and she sighed. It was the first time he’d touched her tonight, yet moisture bathed his fingers. “You’re so fucking wet. Put me inside you. I want you to see me taking you on camera.” He prayed to God she’d let him watch, too.
“Yes,” she murmured, her hair falling forward as she took his cock in hand and rubbed herself with the tip.
He would die to see the perfect look of concentration cross her face. She would forget about the camera. There would be just his cock inside her, just her body riding him.
“Fuck me,” he murmured. “I need you to fuck me so bad.”
She rose, her thighs taut as she balanced herself, fit him in, dipped, taking just his crown. Then, God help him, she contracted her muscles around him.
“Fuck.” He almost came. “Where’d you learn that?”
“When you did me on the kitchen table the other night.”
He remembered. It had been good, but this, the angle, maybe even the camera, made it so much hotter.
She began to ride him, taking him deeper with every downstroke.
He held her hips. “Perfect, baby.”
Hands on the armrests, shoes braced on the carpet, she took him. Before, it had always been the other way around, him taking her, but now, he was all hers. She had all the control, her body squeezing him, milking him. He groaned, filling the room with the sound of his need and the erotic slap of their bodies, hot, wet, sweaty skin to skin.
“Yes, yes, yes,” she chanted.
He reached up to pinch her nipples, and she cried out. Her body gushed around him, climaxing hard, but she didn’t stop fucking him. She rode the wave, panting, moaning, writhing, clenching until he thought he’d either come or die.
In some small part of his tiny reptilian brain, he knew he’d never had it like this, never found a partner quite like her, a sweet and potent mixture of lady and whore, of student and teacher, of slave and master.
Then she killed him by pulling away.
* * *
“JESUS CHRIST, DON’T STOP.”
She loved the crazy need in his voice, the vein throbbing at his temple, the wildness in his eyes. She rolled off the condom and tossed it on the empty package in the trash.
“You want a perfect video,” she said, stroking him, squeezing him. “And I’m going to give it to you.”
Her body still quaked with the aftershock of orgasm, the sensation of him inside her, the taste of his pre-come on her tongue. He was salty, yet slightly sweet, unexpectedly delicious, but it was also the way his body trembled for her, how badly he needed her mouth on him.
She licked the crown of his cock, running her tongue around the ridge, then along the slit. He groaned, laid his head back, his body arching deeper into her mouth. He made her love doing this, tasting him, the texture of his cock against her tongue and lips.
She slipped him free long enough to talk to the camera. “I’m going to make you come so hard, your eyes will roll.
” She squeezed his balls, and he jerked, opened his eyes a mere slit, but said nothing, as if he were no longer capable of speech.
She sucked him hard and fast, pumping her fist around him, then pulled back, playing him. “You’re going to come in my mouth. You’re dying for it.”
“Jesus, yes.”
“You’re mine,” she said to his cock and loved the power of his groan.
Sucking just his crown, she stroked him with a tight grip, her thumb and finger just below the ridge of his cock in a spot she’d quickly learned that he loved. She knew his body, what he liked, what made him rise fast, what kept him from coming before she was ready. But until this moment, she hadn’t thought to use any of it. Not until the camera. Not until she wanted to prove how good she was. She wanted him powerless, crazy, all hers. This was what made cocksucking perfect, what made her love it beyond the sweetness of his taste and the scent of him in her nostrils. Because he loved what she did to him.
He shoved his fingers through her hair and held her close, his body arching, falling. His muscles tensed and bulged. The scent of come and sexy male sweat rose off him like perfume. He filled her mouth with salty sweetness, not his full essence, but the precursor. He called her filthy names in a guttural voice.
Then he said her name, almost with reverence. “God, Rachel, yes, Rachel, perfect, Rachel. Rachel, fuck, Rachel.”
She melted somewhere deep inside. The sound of her name on his lips right along with that dirty word was the sweetest endearment she had ever heard.
Then he jerked, held her fast, his cock throbbing, his taste filling her. She drank him in, but he kept coming. At the last moment, still feeling the spurt of him, she pulled off and took him on her cheek, her lips. She wanted that for the camera.
She wanted him to see that she owned him in that moment. That she’d fucked him, swallowed him, and taken him on her face.
If she decided to show him the video, of course.
He was still breathing hard, the vein at his temple thick and pulsing, but he opened his eyes, reached down and hauled her onto his lap.
“Fuck,” he whispered.
She could never have imagined that word sounding so beautiful. Like a testament.
“You have come all over your face.”
She laughed. “You were supposed to say something romantic.”
“My come on your face is totally romantic.” He wiped it away, then circled her nipples with it, rubbed it in like it was scented lotion.
She licked the last of it from her lips and thought she would never forget the taste of him. Not ever. How could she not have liked doing this? Only because before it hadn’t been Rand. That was disloyal to Gary, but she didn’t give a damn.
He wrapped his arms around her, and she snuggled deeper into his chest, pulling her knees up. She’d lost the shoes somewhere along the way, not really remembering when.
“Fuck,” he said again, then pulled back to look at her from beneath half-closed lids. “I knew it was going to be good, but you still managed to amaze me.”
She petted his face, then burrowed into his neck and kissed the salty skin of his throat. “I bet you say that to all your women.”
“No one’s ever amazed me like you.”
She felt pleased yet shy. “It was the camera. It got your motor running.”
He kissed the top of her head. “It was your cocksucking.”
She laughed. “You’re so genteel.”
He lifted her chin. “You’re perfect.” Then he kissed her.
She forgot everything and simply reveled in his mouth, his lips, his tongue against hers, his taste mingling with hers.
“I smell my come on you. It’s so fucking hot.” He licked her cheek.
“You’re a dirty man.” But she liked that he relished everything about the experience. He was so sensual, so uninhibited.
She wondered if she’d appear as uninhibited on the video.
He picked up the little remote attached to the camera tripod and pushed a button. “Shall we watch it?” he asked, as if he’d read her mind.
“No. Not yet.” Suddenly she was self-conscious. What if she looked fat or flabby or horrible? She didn’t want him to see. Except that he would have already noticed her flaws over the past week. Whatever. “I’m not ready yet.”
“Take it home with you. It’s yours.” He waggled his eyebrows. “But if you want to bring it back later, I would certainly be willing to fuck you while we watch it.”
“Wouldn’t that be like having sex to a porn video?”
“Yes. But it’s hotter when you’re the star.”
Good God, she’d just made a porno. “How many other porn videos have you made?” Suddenly it bothered her that he might have done this with other women.
“I have never made a video like that. I’ve had sex in front of a camera, but it was never like that.”
“You haven’t seen it yet.”
He held her gaze, a finger along her chin. “I don’t have to see it. I felt it. I’ve never been so into a woman that I forgot the camera was there.”
She was terrified he was mouthing platitudes and horrified that it should matter. This was supposed to be just sex.
Closing her eyes, she felt his skin, smelled him. Oh God, it was such good sex, and his platitudes were so perfect.
“I better go,” she whispered, climbing off his lap.
His fingers left a trail of warmth. “Will you watch it tonight?”
“Maybe tomorrow.” Suddenly it was going to take courage.
“Call me after you’ve seen it.”
She pulled on her dress. He rose and zipped it for her, then reached for the camera. He removed the SD card as she slipped into her shoes.
God, he was beautiful. So lacking in self-consciousness, just simply, magnificently naked.
He laid the small card in her hand and curled her fingers around it. “Tell me if it makes you hot all over again.”
She was afraid of what it would make her feel, suddenly sure it wouldn’t be good.
13
BETWEEN LOADS OF LAUNDRY, RACHEL CLEANED THE BATHROOMS, scoured the kitchen, mopped the floors, dusted, and vacuumed. All the while, the SD card, which she’d hidden in her lingerie drawer with the vibrator, called to her.
She’d had untold fantasies last night, about Rand, about masseurs, having sex in a crowded room with everyone stopping to watch them. She’d heard about sex parties; she imagined going to one, watching and being watched. She imagined a ménage à trois with Rand and a handsome stranger. Over and over she replayed the fantasy about a burglar breaking into the house and forcing himself on her. Her thoughts were getting downright kinky, but that fantasy made her the wettest because it was the one to which she’d masturbated for him. Because she could still hear his voice.
Even as she’d cleaned today, the fantasies had assailed her. Her panties were wet, and her shirt teased her nipples with every swish of the mop, every push on the vacuum. That was the thing about cleaning; you could think about anything while you were doing it. By the time the house was spotless, the laundry folded and put away, all she wanted to do was throw herself across the bed, spread her legs, and go to town with her vibrator, accompanied by Rand’s special brand of phone sex. Her own touch wasn’t enough now unless she had Rand’s voice, too.
In all her life, she’d never felt like this. She was a different person, a new woman. It was Rand. It was multiple orgasms. It was amazing, tantalizing. The effect was physical as well as emotional. Every touch while she showered felt sensual. Her nipples were perpetually hard. Sometimes she could feel her clitoris throb. Her skin was hot, her pulse racing. Everything she did or thought led right back to sex, to orgasms, to Rand.
She wanted to watch that video. She wanted to see Rand’s cock in her hand, her mouth, her pussy, and his come on her face. She wanted to watch herself in the throes of ecstasy.
She’d half expected him to call. If he had, she would have succumbed to the lure of his voice
and that video.
“You’re crazy,” she told herself as she rolled the vacuum back into the closet. But she was sweaty, achy, needy, and wet. And suddenly standing in front of her bureau, a hand on the lingerie drawer. She’d buried the video card beneath her panties and bras and some bright scarves she hadn’t worn in ages, right there with her vibrator.
“Okay, you can watch the beginning, just to make sure you don’t look horrible and fat,” she told herself.
Geez, what was the big deal about watching it anyway? For God’s sake, she’d made it, and that was infinitely worse, if you were comparing morals and all that stuff. Besides, it was private, just for her and Rand. Or just for herself, if she chose. What was the moral issue in that?
It was just that she was doing things she would have been horrified at if a friend confessed them to her.
Yet it was so sexy. He made her feel special, desirable. A woman again.
“Screw it. I’m watching it, and I don’t care.” Maybe she was talking to Gary. Or her mother. All those disapproving voices.
She locked the front door, threw the deadbolt, lowered the blinds, and closed the curtains. She could have played it on the computer, but she’d fought tooth and nail to keep the new forty-two-inch flat screen they’d purchased shortly before Gary’s divorce announcement. Not for herself—or to spite Gary—she’d wanted it for the boys, and she sure couldn’t afford to replace it. The nifty TV had an SD-card slot.
She put in the video card, hit the right buttons on the remote—an amazing feat—and curled into the corner of the family room sofa.
Oh God. There she was in forty-two inches of living color.
“You’re fucking hot,” Rand said as her dress fluttered to the carpet. She was naked but for the shoes. And she wasn’t fat.
Rachel felt herself go warm inside. Oh no, she wasn’t fat; in fact, with no one around to hear her think it, she could honestly say she was beautiful. And shy. Rand’s voice made her gooey all over again. That’s how she’d felt when he said those words. Absolutely gooey. Her own voice surprised her, too. She had a very sexy voice.
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