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I take several shots, and he appears to be even more turned on by the fact that I’m picturing him. I guess we all have our quirks. The next thing I shoot is his hair, and then his arm, in particular the muscular part at the top. I shoot his eyes and his chest, and finally the line of his jaw.
When I’m done, he takes the camera back and pulls me into his lap.
“Now let’s see what you’ve taken,” he says, scrolling through the menu to the picture gallery.
His arm bands around my waist, one hand massaging my hip. When he sees the first picture of his lips, he bends down and kisses my neck.
“My lips are one of your favourite parts of me, huh?”
I nod, turning to run my nose along his jaw. His hand stills, and I feel his breathing heavy and humid on my skin. He starts scrolling through the pictures more quickly now. When he gets to the last of them, he groans and places the camera down on the bed. His erection presses into my lower back as he unbuttons my shirt and pulls it off me. My bra goes with it, and then he’s cupping my breasts, moulding them with his hands.
I arch back into him, sighing loudly. He picks up the camera again and takes a shot of his hand on my breast.
“Robert, don’t,” I say, but he’s already taken it.
His mouth moves to my ear. “Please, Lana, I’d never show it to another soul. You have my word on that.”
I turn my head to look into his eyes, and for the first time there’s transparency there. I can see he’s telling the truth. Still, it takes me a moment to make up my mind.
Then, very quietly, I whisper, “For you only.”
His smile is blinding. “For me only,” he agrees, slipping his hand possessively over my stomach and taking another picture. I catch sight of it, and the contrast between his tanned arm and my pale stomach is beautiful. His hand trails farther, pushing up my skirt and moving beneath my underwear. I moan when he caresses me between my legs.
“You’re soaking,” he breathes as his fingers stroke me and then try to find their way inside. I feel a slight burn as he enters a place never before touched. “So tight,” he goes on, mouthing my neck and then flicking his tongue over my earlobe.
I shiver in his arms, instinctively rubbing off his hardness. He moves so he’s on top of me, and my legs fall open. His lips meet mine in a frenzy of nips and sucks as he grinds his erection between my legs. I can feel my cheeks getting warmer as the intensity of the sensation builds. His hands are holding mine above my head now, the muscles in his arms straining. His hard penis rubs me in just the right spot, and I can feel an orgasm building.
He rocks in and out. For a moment I forget about being a virgin and just feel like I’ll die if I can’t have him inside me. Somehow, within the space of a few days, my fears have faded away. Perhaps I’d been waiting for Robert all along.
Our kiss deepens exponentially, his tongue dancing with mine, his lips memorising me. He breaks it so that he can ask in between choppy breaths, “Are you almost there, baby?”
“Yes,” I whimper. “Almost.”
“Okay, wait for me,” he says, but I don’t know what he means. His mouth is back on mine now, and there’s a fire burning where he’s pushing himself faster against my soaking-wet underwear.
I come harder than I realised it was possible to come, just as Robert’s hold on my wrists tightens and he moans into my mouth. I stay wrapped around him, shuddering with the after waves of my orgasm. His hands move down my arms and fold around me.
He bites softly on my ear as he chuckles, all out of breath. “I think I might have made a mess.”
It takes me a second to get his meaning, and then I laugh. “You should go clean up, then.”
His arms tighten around me. “Not yet. I’m happy where I am for now.”
Soon enough his breathing relaxes, and he adjusts us to a more comfortable position. His hand makes lazy circles on my belly, paying particular attention to the needle scars.
“You’re the most perfect thing to me, Lana. Never forget that,” he says, dead serious, like he’s making a vow.
I’m so sated I feel like purring. “You’re the most beautiful thing to me,” I reply.
“Not perfect?” he questions, amused.
“No, not perfect. Perfection doesn’t exist, but beauty does. And you, Robert, are so beautiful I sometimes want to spend whole hours just staring at you.”
“I like hearing you say stuff like that to me. It gives me hope.”
“Hope for what?”
“Hope that one day you’ll forgive me for my past sins.”
I swallow and nod, wondering if I’m capable of that. Perhaps I’ve already forgiven him — I just haven’t said it out loud yet. His strokes on my stomach get slower and then stop completely. I look up to find he’s fallen asleep, his breathing deep. I snuggle further into his embrace and close my eyes, and soon I’ve fallen under, too.
Fourteen
An hour later I wake up, mostly because my body is complaining. A wave of weakness washes over me. I glance at the clock on Robert’s wall, which tells me it’s almost three. I’d been so wrapped up in him from the moment I got home today that I completely forgot my lunch. I try to move off the bed, but Robert’s hold on me tightens.
“Stop fidgeting,” he complains sleepily, his hand moving to cup me between my legs.
I feel a momentary thrill but do my best to ignore it. “Robert, I don’t feel well. I need to take my insulin,” I tell him in a soft voice so as not to wake him entirely, but the second I stop speaking, he jumps up.
“Shit. Sorry. Go ahead,” he says, helping me from the bed.
