Through the Lens

by K. K. Allen

  My head is foggy, and my heart is crashing hard in my chest, but I don’t miss the thick digit Desmond slides into my opening or the light growl that climbs up his throat and slips past his lips. I peel my eyes open to catch a glimpse of him as he watches what he’s doing to me.

  He doesn’t try to add another finger like I’m expecting. Instead, he starts to pump me slowly while hooking one of my legs with his free arm and placing his mouth on me again. My insides are quivering, and I swear I’m seconds from erupting when he pulls out his finger and picks up his head from between my thighs.

  I gasp, the loss of him washing over me like I’ve been doused with cold water. “What are you doing? I was so close.” I want his mouth back on me so I can unravel on his tongue.

  He stares back at me under a hooded gaze, his breathing rapid as he climbs up my body. “Slow and steady.” His gaze falls to my exposed breast before leaning down and covering it with his mouth just as two fingers work their way inside me.

  I’m abuzz with sensations by the time my insides start to coil all over again. He pushes his fingers deeper, curling them inside me, then flicking and teasing my sweet spot over and over again.

  “Don’t stop, Desmond,” I moan. “Please don’t stop.” I’m right there, my muscles clenching while a fire builds in my core. Any second now, I’m going to combust. My back arches, and my toes curl, but just as the quickening begins in my belly, Desmond removes his mouth and hands once more. Now he’s standing over me, sweat beading on his skin.

  “Why?” I cry. This is starting to feel like a dirty game, one I did not sign up for.

  He grins and palms himself over his underwear. He’s still half-dressed and oh, so sexy. “I told you. Slow and steady, babe. I promise I’ll make it worth your while. Do you trust me?” Desmond is hard everywhere, from his tone to his gaze to his hard jaw visible even with his beard. I scroll down, taking in his sexy abs on my way to his long length, which is very apparent inside his unzipped pants.

  I sit up then climb onto my knees, flicking my eyes up to his. “Yes.” Then I grip the top of his waistband. “Do you trust me?”

  He bites down on his bottom lip and nods. I swallow and focus on the man I’m about to undress. I peel away his pants, taking his white boxer briefs with them.

  I suck in a breath when his erection springs free. Nothing could have prepared me for the sight of what I would be unleashing. All I know is that I’m suddenly grateful for the fact that Desmond wants to take his time with me tonight. I’m not sure I could have handled anything more.

  He steps out of his pants, and I wrap my hand around his length and stroke it in the direction of my mouth. My heart is beating like crazy, and I know it’s from fear that once I taste Desmond Blake, there’s no going back.

  I don’t want to go back. I only want to move forward.

  I take him in my mouth, swirling my tongue around his length before flattening it against the underside of him. I sheath my teeth and ease down, fitting as much of him as I can down my throat. When I can’t go anymore, Desmond groans and takes the top of my ponytail in his fist then glides me up and back down, his greediness growing by the second. I curl the tip of my tongue just slightly, firming it against him to increase the intensity of each thrust while stroking the base of him with my hand.

  Desmond responds with a string of curse words and a quickening of his movements. “Holy shit, woman.”

  I think he’s about to let go, and I’m preparing for his hot release at any moment when he shocks me and pulls me all the way off him until I’m staring up at him with wide eyes and heavy breaths. “You didn’t like it?”

  He rolls his eyes, sinks down onto his knees, and locks eyes with me. Two beats of silence follow in which his lids turn to slits and he releases a long, heavy breath. Then he’s gripping the back of my neck and pulling me to his mouth. We blend together, his flavor and mine, and I’ve never been so turned on in my life.

  I’m so into our tangled kiss that I don’t notice him grabbing the condom from his wallet until our mouths part and he’s rolling it over his length.

  His gaze travels the length of me. “I don’t think I’ve stopped being hard since I unzipped your dress.”

  I’m too worked up to worry about how my next question will sound. “Why did you stop me, then? You were about to come.”

  Desmond eases me forward so I’m straddling him. “Because I want to watch you come apart when I’m inside you.” His eyes are gleaming wickedly. “And it’ll be all the more intense when you finally do.”

  I narrow my eyes. “You’re such a control freak.” I lower myself until I feel his tip at my entrance.

  He chuckles and holds himself steady while I start to ease down around him. “Yeah, but I’m your control freak now.” Then he grabs my waist and tilts upward with his hips, guiding me down around him.

  My eyes slam closed, and I gasp at the shock of him stretching me to a point that borderlines pleasure and pain.

  “Hey,” he whispers, placing his forehead on mine. “Breathe, Maggie.”

  I take in a deep, shuddering breath and nod against him, sinking deeper and deeper, until the initial shock wears off and pleasure is all I’m chasing. I settle at his base and open my eyes before continuing.

  His sharp blue stare is pouring into my brown eyes like he’s trying to reach the depths of my soul in a silent plea to keep moving. “You okay?”

  This time I smile. “Such a gentleman.”

  A cocky smile lifts his cheeks as his palms find my ass and grip me. He thrusts into me, going deeper than I thought possible. “Are you sure about that?” Then he’s moving me, lifting me from him and pulling me back down as my muscles cling to his.

  He’s biting his bottom lip, watching me move, and I can’t help but lean in and take his mouth with mine. I want to—need to—feel every part of him on every part of me.

  He groans into my mouth and pulls his knees out from under him and stretching them out. Then he reaches behind him and uses his hands to prop himself up while I take over and start to ride him. As I do, something awakens inside of me, something that reaches beyond pleasure and lightens the weight on my heart. We’re face-to-face, heart-to-heart, our slick bodies sliding together. And it’s like they were always meant to move this way.

  My mind has gone foggy again as I pick up the pace to a stride that will bring me to climax at any moment. I need the release after not just the past hour of buildup, but the past days, weeks, and months. I need this more than I need air, at least that’s how it feels as I get closer to bliss.

  I’m so close, closer than before, when Desmond growls, sits up, and wraps his arms around my waist. He flips me onto my back, still inside me. He latches onto my bra between the cups, holding it like he would reins, and then starts to rock into me at a pace I know he has no chance of stopping, not this time. We’re too far gone, our hearts and minds tangled too deeply. And I know it’s not just me that needs this release.

  There’s a tightening below my belly, creating a heat that starts to spread to every limb until my head is abuzz once more. I’m reaching the cliff at the speed of a freight train. The moment I hit the edge, there’s nothing but sky and sea stretching for miles. A guttural cry slips past my throat, and I’m soaring. Soaring as Desmond’s mouth finds mine. Soaring as he pushes inside me for the last time, his warmth filling the condom, filling me, until the two of us are spent.

  My body is useless, my muscles a puddle of mush as my mind begins to clear. Our breathing is all I can hear above the crackling fire as he lies beside me. My head rests in the crook of his arm while I curl the rest of my body into him.

  He squeezes me closer and kisses the top of my head. “Still think I’m a gentleman?”

  I smile and close my eyes. “Verdict’s still out on that.”

  At some point last night, during another round of “Is Desmond a gentleman?” he carried me to his bed, and we fell asleep there. I’m not sure how many times we woke up to go at it a
gain or how many condoms were destroyed in the process, but I’m still in his bed when the sun shines through his large windows. My body is a package of marshmallows, and Desmond’s bed is our cloud. It looks like one too, with its soft white sheets, a puffy down comforter, and pillows that hug me in a sweet caress. I never want to leave.

  When I look to my right, I have to blink. No Desmond beside me, but then I make out a sound from the kitchen and smile. My senses are coming to life at the smell of breakfast cooking and the sizzle of grease on the stove. I pull myself out of bed and walk to the window, where a white button-down of Desmond’s lies. I pick it up and slide my arms through the sleeves, leaving it unbuttoned. I have zero energy to find my own clothes right now.

  There’s a bench under the window, and I take a seat, pulling my knees up to my chest as I gaze out the window. Desmond’s view faces the main street, and just by the activity on the street as people make their way to the public market, I take a guess that it’s early afternoon.

  “Hungry?”

  I snap my head toward Desmond’s bedroom door.

  He’s standing there with a loaded tray of food. “I might have gone a bit overboard.”

  My mouth starts to water. “Is that French toast? And avocado toast?”

  He nods and starts to walk toward me. “And bacon and eggs Benedict and fruit. I didn’t know if you liked hollandaise, so I just put it on the side.”

  The closer he gets, the wider my eyes grow. Strawberries and whipped cream top the French toast, and a cup of syrup sits beside them. There’s even a tiny mint leaf sticking from the dollop of whipped cream and a small bowl of berries on the side. “That all looks incredible, and I’m starving.”

  He chuckles and sets the tray between us as he sits down on the bench. His eyes scroll my attire with a quirk of his lips. “I’m sure you are.”

  I grin and pick up a fork. “Your girlfriends must feel pretty lucky when they wake up in the morning.”

  He cocks an eyebrow at me and twists his lips. “Is that your subtle way of asking if I do this for every woman I sleep with?”

  I stifle a laugh and hold a forkful of avocado toast to my lips. “Maybe I’m a little curious.”

  “Well,” he says while cutting through layers of egg and ham. “The short answer is no, not to this extent.” He still isn’t looking at me as he takes a bite, chews, and swallows.

  “As in…” I lead, hoping he’ll elaborate more.

  He sets his fork down and smiles. “Food is my thing, Maggie. I’d be lying if I made you think I haven’t used it to my advantage once or twice before. But have I ever given up sleep before to make a buffet of food to make sure a woman was pleased with the options?” He chuckles again. “No. This would be a first. And have I ever wanted a woman to stay after said breakfast was cooked? Not until today.”

  My lips are parted to eat the blueberry I have pressed to my mouth when heat spreads from my neck to my cheeks. “You want me to stay?”

  He slides off the bench, suddenly adopting a serious look as his gaze finds my mouth. “Hold that thought for one minute.”

  I pop the berry into my mouth as he jogs out of the room, wearing nothing but pair of bright-green boxer briefs. I don’t think too much about his exit until he returns with his camera in his hands. “Do that again.” He stops at my side and angles the lens down on me.

  I pull the shirt over my breasts and look up into the lens, at him, with wide eyes. Panic sets in. “What are you doing?”

  He sets the camera to his side and cups my chin with his fingers. “You don’t have to be afraid of the lens, Maggie, not with me.” His lips tilt up in an almost shy smile. “May I please take your picture?”

  My heart takes off, beating wildly in my chest to an unfamiliar rhythm. Something about Desmond’s request makes me feel every bit as bare as I was for him last night. Exposed. Vulnerable. But looking back at him with his ice-cold eyes so devilishly innocent, I don’t think I can say no.

  So I pick up another berry and place it to my lips, and before I know it, there’s a click and a flash, followed by another and another. I’m eating my breakfast, bite by bite, while Desmond captures his food and me from every angle. And for the first time since leaving the world of modeling, I don’t feel like a puppet. I don’t feel like someone’s doll to be poked and prodded at until they get their perfect moment. Then I realize the most surprising thing of all.

  I trust Desmond Blake.

  TAKE VI

  THE COHOST

  “Sometimes you will never know the value of a moment until it becomes a memory.” —Theodor Seuss Geisel

  32

  Moving Fast

  Desmond

  I get to the kitchen earlier than normal on Monday morning, and I realize immediately how strange it feels to be off my routine. Between all-day preparations for Saturday’s wedding and the time Maggie and I spent locked away in my condo all of Sunday, I knew I would have to start early to tackle the mess I left behind.

  I spend the morning changing out the garbage liners, deep cleaning the main kitchen area, and running the dishwasher—all to a Matt Nathanson playlist and with the clearest head I’ve had in a long time. And I know I owe it all to a certain vixen with a devilish tongue and wicked hip thrusts. But it’s more than that with Maggie. She gave more than just her body to me this weekend. She gave me her trust when she let me snap those pictures, and I’ve never felt prouder of my own art.

  Suddenly, I’m inspired to make something more of my art. To take more than live action photos of food to showcase my culinary passion. I love watching Maggie’s joy when she tastes my meals. She’s like a princess that’s been held captive her entire life and has never tasted a single delicious morsel of food in her life. And that’s what I want to capture. The innocence of discovery. The first taste of all that’s been forbidden.

  I’m straightening up the couch cushions in the common area when I hear the door from the back room opening. I look up to see Maggie wearing black skinny jeans and a cream crop sweater with three buttons down the center. Her hair is pulled up into a high ponytail, and not a stitch of makeup can be found on her face. Her look reminds me of the day she was moving in, only on that day, she was a bundle of negative energy. Today, she’s a fucking ray of sunshine that I instantly start to move toward.

  I scoop her up in my arms with a grin and press my lips to hers like she didn’t just climb out of my bed two hours ago. She giggles into my mouth, and I carry her over to the couch before tossing her onto it and pouncing on her. I bury my mouth in her neck, knowing now the effect my beard has on her sensitive skin. I don’t even have to look to know that goose bumps just broke out all over her body.

  She squeals with laughter. “Stop.”

  I pull my mouth away and stare down at her. “Sorry, I got a little carried away.”

  She grins and runs a finger over my matching smile. “I don’t mind, but I am on the clock, and I kind of like my job.”

  I search her caramel eyes and then lean in to kiss her again, this time square on the mouth and with as much passion as I can muster. “It’s a good thing, because your boss is a big fan of your work.”

  She laughs. “Oh, is that right?”

  I nod, my gaze now perusing her little sweater, which clearly outlines her breasts. “That’s right” I slip my hand up her stomach, over her rib cage, and under her sweater. “He especially likes this outfit. Very appropriate for the workplace.” Sweeping a thumb over her nipple, I confirm that she’s braless once again and groan. “This is going to make for a very unproductive day.”

  Maggie places a hand on mine and pulls it out of her shirt with a smile. “I won’t let that happen. Should we look at recipes or head to the market?”

  “You already pulled the recipes on Saturday and made the grocery lists.” Grinning, I pull myself to the side of her so I’m not crushing her with my weight. “And the market opens at nine.”

  She glances at the clock and frowns. “We have an hour.�
�

  My fingers move back to her sweater, to a button between her breasts, and I pop it open. “Looks like we’re ahead of schedule, so…”

  Maggie turns back to me, and something in her sweet smile effectively melts my insides. I’m putty over this girl, and I don’t know what to do about it. My next kiss is tentative and slow. Just because I’m a horny bastard with a permanent hard-on for Maggie doesn’t mean she will reciprocate. But when she weaves those long, thin fingers through my hair and pulls me into a deeper kiss, I know I’m not alone.

  I’ve managed to open her sweater and reveal her perfect tits, which appear to be starved for attention. I grip a breast and pull it into my mouth, circling her sensitive peak with my tongue before moving on to the next one as she squirms underneath me. “Maybe we should go back to your place if we’re going to do this.”

  I put her nipple between my teeth and squeeze just hard enough to earn a groan from Maggie, and then I look up into her sedated eyes. “I’d much rather fuck you on this couch if I’m being honest.”

  “By all means, don’t hold back.”

  My mouth roams her bare skin, exploring every inch with soft nibbles, licks, and kisses, until I’m at her belly. Her back arches beneath me. Her tits are aimed straight for the air, and her body quivers in my hold. I know what she wants, and I have every intention of giving it to her. My hands slide around her waistband before I start to peel it from her skin. I’ve always loved food, but I’ve never been addicted to the taste of anything quite like Maggie.

  She pushes up her hips to help me slide her pants away when a loud knock comes from the front door. “Shit,” I say at her navel, because holy hell, I don’t want to stop. Maybe I won’t. It’s not like whoever is on the other side of the tinted glass will be able to make out that there are two bodies fucking like rabbits on the couch.