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“Do you have to take that with you everywhere?” he asks as he points to my camera.
“Are you jealous of a camera, Cash Morgan?” I smile devilishly as I snap a few more pictures. The sight of him on that bike with his wind-blown hair is something I want a record of.
“Anything that gets to spend twenty-four-seven with you I’d be jealous of.”
His eyes pierce me with an intensity I feel all the way down to my belly. That smile is enough to knock the hiking boots right off my feet.
I walk over to the bike and stand between his legs. It’s hard to be in the same space with him and not want to touch him, to feel him touching me. Every finger across my skin is a blaze of heat that leaves a permanent mark, and I can’t seem to get enough.
He takes the camera from me and places the strap over the handlebar of the bike. With my lips dangerously close to his, I ask, “What kind of dirty thoughts do you think that man was having?”
Cash crinkles his brow and then realization dawns on him. His lip tugs at the corner.
“He was wondering what it would feel like to touch you.” He looks down at my legs standing between his and then grips my calf. “To run his hands up these sexy as fuck long legs.” His hand travels up the side of my leg leaving goosebumps in his wake, and stops short just at the edge of my thigh.
“He was thinking about how it would feel to have your ass in the palm of his hand.”
I suck in a breath when he moves his hand under my shorts and cups my ass, pulling me further against him.
“To feel if you are,” his finger slides between my legs, tracing the edge of my panties before slipping underneath, “wet for him.”
My body squirms; the ache grows deep in my belly, the tease exquisite. He knows just how to use my body.
I am so fucking wet for him.
He groans against my neck, his lips vibrating against my skin, and I push myself further into him. Bringing his hands up my arms, his eyes track the pattern of his finger as it trails along my shoulder, gently pushing the thin strap of my sports bra down.
“He was wondering if your breasts are as spectacular bare as they look in this tiny fucking sports bra.”
His fingers dip into the material and pull my breast out. My hips rock against him, and I can feel his growing erection through the thin material of his pants. The friction does nothing to satisfy the ache at my core, but I can’t stop my hips from moving.
“Do you think he was wondering what it would be like to fuck me on this bike?” I ask him with a wicked smile.
“Get on.” His voice rumbles against my lips and I crash my mouth to his as I move to straddle the bike, not breaking the kiss.
He moves his hand over my nipple and it instantly hardens against his touch. Need spikes deep in my belly as his thumb rubs circles, kneading my breast. The pulse spreads throughout my entire body as I part my lips, slipping my tongue against his, hungry for more.
Gently, he pushes my body back against the gas tank of the bike and I reach behind me to feel for the handle bars as he runs the palm of his hand down the center of my body. He kicks his leg over the bike and lifts the camera from the handlebar. A smile spreads across his beautiful face, a mixture of mischief and desire. He leans back and his shirt moves up, revealing the hard lines of his stomach. Lifting the camera to his face he pauses, waiting for me to stop him, but I don’t. Instead, I part my lips, welcoming this third party.
“Do you have any idea how fucking beautiful you are right now?” he asks me.
I shake my head, feeling vulnerable, not used to being the one in front of the camera, but I want to see how he sees me. The camera is a voyeur, a third party in this private moment between us, and it is the hottest fucking thing anyone has ever done to me.
I close my eyes and arch my back to him, willing him to touch me again, to press his lips to my skin, to take more pictures of me under his gaze as he lights me on fire. He lifts my leg up and unties my boot, slowly pulling it free. Pressing my bare foot against his chest, he run’s his hand over the top and rubs my foot against his chest, placing my ankle over his shoulder.
“You’re fucking killing me, Sasha,” he says between kisses on my calf.
My body is on fire, and I don’t know how much longer I can wait for him. When his hand moves down my thigh, pushing the material of my shorts out of the way, I think I might explode from the intensity of his touch. The desire in his eyes is enough to push me over the edge.
“Don’t stop,” I moan as he pulls the camera back to his face and snaps another picture of me.
“Do you like it when I take pictures of you?” he asks with hooded eyes.
I can see the desire in them, and it’s a heady feeling being under this man’s gaze.
“Yes.” I nod, any humility I might have had was gone the minute he grabbed the camera.
I’m not afraid to own that using my camera as a third party to our intimate moment turns me on.
