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I feel his damp lips against my exposed neck and I almost buck out of his hold.
Flash.
Oh man, I need to get out of this compromising scenario.
"Why do you go by BK?" The question is whispered and unexpected even for me, and I'm the one who asked it.
His eyebrows tighten together as he ponders what to respond with: whit or honesty.
"To protect my family from the spotlight," he admits. "Not that it did me much good since my full name leaked thanks to one of my disgruntled exes. I never wanted all of this attention on my family, especially not my sister."
“Can I go over to the windows?” I ask, trying to change the mood. After his declaration, the only sounds in the room are the click and flash of the camera and my labored breathing, which I hope he can't hear.
“Oh, sure, ya I think there will be enough light over there. Let me grab my tripod and turn off these lights. We should be able to get some silhouettes with how bright the sun is this morning.” He stutters softly, his breathing pushing out of his mouth in warm gusts. I swear I feel something stiff against my leg but pretend I didn’t as I move out of his vicinity to put some distance between us.
I want the river behind me so not thinking, I move to the corner where the bed is. I command the window, spreading my arms out like an angel warming its wings in the sun. Then moving my arms over my head and pushing my hips wider to get a new angle. The flashes are gone now and I almost miss them.
I turn my body sideways, starting to feel weird about him snapping so many pictures of the back of me. My back leaning against the window casing I fidget with my legs trying to find a way to make them not look as short as they are.
“Arch your back more, that will push your hips back and your legs will come out further,” he coaches me with a soft tone that I rarely hear from him.
I try. Like, really try, to figure out how to arch my back while maintaining my balance and my feet on the floor. My struggle is hanging in the air between us as he puts his camera down, coming to give me a lesson up close and personal.
I’m not sure if he knows what effect he has on me as his hands encompass my hips, pushing them back toward the wall. For a split second, both of us forget that I’m not wearing pants so when his thumbs brush against my hips, he feels my soft skin and the bumps instantly flood me all over.
“Shit, sorry. Just, um, try and keep your shoulders and ass - I mean butt – against the casing. That will naturally bring your back into the arch you are trying for.” I can hear something in his voice but I can’t tell if it’s panic or arousal. Can he sense the nervous energy rolling off me in waves?
I do my best to follow his instructions and I hope the angles will translate well into the photos. He goes back to his camera, but he doesn’t pick it up. He keeps walking, grabbing the tripod from its previous placement and bringing it back to where he was crouched.
He makes quick work of setting it up and I can already feel what is coming next. Double posing. What I don’t expect is for him to also remove his shirt and shoes. And then the familiar blinking signal returns on the front of the camera.
He positions himself across from me, using his own instructions to mirror me. From here, it looks like he has less booty pop than I do, which makes sense for his sleek form.
We attempt to mimic each other without speaking, bringing our hands around our bodies, or reaching them up toward the ceiling. More creative vision breaks into my mind and then I am leaning my chest against his. The muted clicks keep time as we get lost in the silence.
I command him, moving both of us in time, not giving him a chance to react. I pull his hands against my hips, this time arching away and letting my back bend toward the floor. With a swift jerk, he snaps my head back towards him, his fingers digging into the top of my butt cheeks and then his mouth dancing with mine.
I count the clicks of the camera as I open my lips to him, bringing my tongue out to meet his with a welcome invitation. His fingers pull up and attempt to tangle in my hair to bring us closer.
“Fuck, I hate these braids right now,” he confesses through labored breathing.
My hand moves to pull off the elastic keeping my hair twisted and he stops me. Reading the confusion in my eyes, he brings his mouth to my ear, the warmth of his breath making the goosebumps return with a vengeance.
“Don’t take them out. I haven’t gotten to see them wrapped around my fist yet.”
Instant waterfall between my legs as he finishes his panty-melting sentence, ending it with a soft bite under my earlobe.
Ican’tfuckingstandhow much I want her. The thing I don’t need complicating shit is exactly what I plan to get tangled up in.
I deliver on my promise, twisting the end of her braids around my fist, tipping her head back further to expose her long lean neck to me. Tilting her body like this also has her tits pushing against my hard chest, inviting me to explore them next.
But first, I run my tongue along the sparse of her neck, sucking lightly when I get to her collarbone, eliciting a sultry whimper that makes my cock instantly engaged. I run my tongue over the spot, discoloration already pooling. Marking her and thinking of what story she will tell to excuse it.
Burned by her hair straightener?
A birthmark no one has ever noticed before?
I dance kisses around the base of her neck, reaching the other side and performing the same marking ceremony. Like she knows how it affects me, she whimpers again and I can’t stop myself from rutting against her.
