“I worked at a daycare,” I tell him, and Zane’s eyes widen a hint.
“A daycare?” he asks.
“Yeah,” I nod with a smile. “I have a degree.”
“In Play-Doh and counting by twos?” he asks, and I swat him.
“Be nice. No. In early childhood education and development,” I answer.
“Really?” he asks, genuinely impressed.
“Really. With a minor in psychology.”
“Jesus. Well now I feel like a dick,” he lets out a breath. “I had no idea.”
“Most people don’t,” I say. “I don’t talk about it much.”
“No? Why not?” he asks.
“Because it doesn’t matter anymore. It’s in the past,” I say. Then I spin the conversation around. “What about you? Why are you a model?”
“Because I don’t believe in wasting good looks on a nine to five desk job,” he says smugly, and I just roll my eyes. It seems to me that he is guarded too. Which means it’s time to change the topic. I decide to go back to the topic of his body.
I move to the floor and sit in front of him.
“What are you up to?” he asks.
“Nothing,” I tell him with the camera in place. “Give me…you just woke up and you’re tired but you know you have to face the day.”
His abs look great in this position. He’s leaning over, feet planted firmly on the floor, forearms resting on his knees, head tilted to look at me. I’m expecting brooding and pensive. Reflective. Morose even. Instead, he stares at me so deeply that my insides tingle, among other things. Then he scrunches up his face, lets his eyes go cross-eyed, and sticks out his tongue.
It surprises me enough that I laugh out loud, and he grins. “Are you serious?” I ask.
“Of course not,” he answers.
“That was cute, but it’s not the kind of photo I’m looking for,” I say.
“No? Then what are you looking for?” he asks.
“I think you know,” I tell him.
“Do I?” he asks.
“Mm hmm,” I nod.
“Maybe you should come over here and show me then.” He says, and I inch towards him. I get up on my knees and he bends over as we kiss. I set the camera on the bed and the kiss goes deeper. His hands start to wander around my body. The feeling of his fingertips on me is electric, but it’s his scent that is intoxicating. It’s like a snake slowly coiling itself around my lungs; I have other intentions.
“No, no,” I say, pushing his hands away. “That’s not what I want.”
A smile curls at the corners of his lips as he engages in our game. “Alright. So, what do you want? You’re in charge here.”
I bite my lip in anticipation and hook my fingers inside the elastic band of his briefs, tugging them away just enough to free his cock. Then I wrap my fingers around it, pressing my thumb to that soft, sweet spot that is oh so sensitive right below the tip.
“Fuck,” he lets out.
I half-grin with parted lips, but I don’t look up at him. I’m too focused on his pulsing dick in my hand, hot, hard, and pulsing with need.
Slowly, I lean in, watching him through my eyelashes. His expression unhinges as my warm breath emits over the head of his dick and my mouth gets closer and closer.
