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“What? Take naked pictures of someone?” She laughs. “They have photography classes on the human form. Funnily enough, most of the photographers who are known for taking nudes are men.” She raises her eyebrows.
“I’m not surprised,” I tell her. “I meant have you ever let someone else take those kinds of pictures of you?”
“I don’t have a problem with tasteful nude photos, and in fact, I think there is so much beauty in capturing an erotic moment. It takes a lot to trust someone to do that, not to mention vulnerability. I’ve just never trusted anyone enough.”
“Trust is rare these days,” I say.
“I know all about that.”
She touches my face, her fingers trailing over my skin like she’s trying to memorize every slope and line.
Her kisses taste like fucking peppermints, and I can’t get enough. If I’m not careful, I could become addicted.
28
YOU'RE ALL MINE
CASH
Centerfold by The J Geils Band
Islow down at the curve. The cliff overlooking the ocean is breathtaking, and the maple and oak trees lining the highway become thicker the higher we climb.
Sasha grips my waist and leans into me as I take the turn, like she’s always belonged on the back of my bike.
When I move, you move.
I smile and think to myself,that’s my girl, as I head towards Escondido Falls. There’s a small parking lot at the base of the trail and I pull in, cutting the engine. I hit the kickstand and wait until Sasha gets off. My favorite part of having Sasha on my bike is watching as she takes the helmet off, shaking out her blonde hair that flies around her face and settles on her shoulders.
She smiles at me, figuring out what I’m doing and blushes.
“One of these days I’m going to get you on the back of a horse,” she challenges.
“Not a chance,” I laugh.
“Challenge accepted.” She smiles wickedly and leans across me to grab her camera from the saddle bag behind me and tuck the helmet away.
Her ass is bent over my lap.
“Such a tease.” I’m tempted to smack her ass, but the parking lot is full. “Why do you have to be such a brat all the time?” I ask, jokingly.
She takes ahold of my face. “Because you like it so much.”
I pull her into me for a kiss and groan against her lips. “Yes, I do.”
She unzips her jacket, pulling it off and then rolling it up so she can fit it in the saddle bag.
She has on a pink sports bra with decorative straps that cross in the back, but it looks like it’ll barely contain her breasts. “Where’s your shirt?”
She glares at me, throwing the strap of her bag over her shoulder. “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”
“It’s a lot of skin.” I’m not oblivious to what girls wear these days, and while I might admire the lack of clothing on occasion, none of them weremygirl.
“If I wore a bikini at the beach, it’s basically the same thing,” she protests.
“We’re not at the beach.”
“It’s hot out,” she states.
