Page 31 of Brought By the Storm

I paused to think about it. The prospect was too exciting to dismiss. “I could delete the photo after I take it.”

He looked bewildered. “Then what’s the point of taking it?”

I grinned. “Taking sexy photos of you would be the point. Enjoying the process.”

He smiled. “Would you teach me to take photos so I can take some of you too?”

That wasn’t as thrilling. “Um, I’m not sure I could do that…”

He fake-pouted. “So, you get to have all the fun?”

I sighed. “Okay, I guess we can take turns taking photos.”

He gave a victorious, all-teeth exposed smile. “You with the dildo.”

“What? Hell no,” I protested.

“Hmm, we’ll see,” he replied.

“Maybe you with the dildo,” I countered.

He was taken aback for a minute. “If I do something with the smaller toy, will you do something with the dildo?”

“What? You’re kidding right?” His expression didn’t change. “Why do I need to have the dildo instead of the smaller toy?”

He laughed. “You’re more experienced at handling something that size. I have a virgin ass.”

“I do, too. Silicon objects don’t take your virginity,” I muttered. When I looked back at him, he had a resolute expression, and I realized he was serious about the bargain. I was about to protest again, but my dick wasn’t objecting. The thought of seeing Carrington naked and pleasuring himself with a toy was making me crazy. “Okay, fine.”

He looked shocked, then a bit scared. “Really?”

“Yes,” I spat, pretending I was doing this just for him.

He seemed to pick up my habit of gulping when nervous. “Okay.”

“Okay,” I agreed, rising from the bed. “By the way, you have nice legs.”

He blushed. “They’re legs. Not that interesting.”

I gave his exposed legs another look-over. “I disagree.” I reached over to glide my hand up his strong, hairy calf, then over his beautiful knee and up his thick thigh. “Amazing.”

His eyes were full of lust. “Nobody’s ever been turned on by my legs before,” he admitted.

“Then the girls you dated were stupid,” I joked. “I could look at your legs all day. You’ll have to make a habit of wearing short-shorts.”

He chuckled. “I don’t think the president can walk around wearing shorts of any type.”

It was a reminder that he was a president of a country halfway around the world, and he would be heading home to it later in the evening. It brought the moment to a depressing close. “I should go make breakfast. I’ll just go into the bathroom to brush my teeth. Then the shower is all yours.”

I stepped out of bed, and I could tell he was pondering the mood change, but I didn’t want to tell him my thoughts. I would try to enjoy the time I had with him. There would be time for crying tomorrow.

He must have wanted to reignite my playful spirit, as he called from the bed. “In your drawer of underwear, did you happen to have a jock strap?”

I turned to look back at him, but his slight grin belied that it wasn’t a serious question. “You went through my underwear drawer too?”

“I didn’t sniff any.” He answered, as if that forgave him for rummaging through people’s bureaus.

I was flustered. “I don’t know. Yes, I have a couple. Why?”