Saugatuck Summer (Saugatuck, #1)(17)
“I’d like to do two sets, if you don’t mind. One nude before we f*ck, and another when we’re done.” He pressed close, brushing his lips along my jaw until I turned to welcome the kiss. His voice dropped to a sexy murmur. “I want to capture the look in your eyes, before and after. Hungry, then satisfied.”
I shuddered, clearing my throat. “Okay. I just, um . . . Hey, look, I know some scary-ass leather daddies, you hear me? If these end up on some internet porn site, I’m sending them after you.”
He laughed at that, and Jesus, how were his lips so incredibly red?
“No. No one will see the photos but me. I’ll even print them myself. The painting, however, might find its way to some art blogs, or maybe a gallery.”
“Okay.” I nodded just a little nervously and he kissed me again, hard this time, demanding. And then there was no room for nervousness. There were just lips and hands and his body firm against mine and Gawdalmighty had I ever been this hot for anyone in my life?
“God, you’re gorgeous,” he whispered, tonguing my earlobe as he pulled up the hem of my skintight shirt. He rucked it up to my armpits and glanced down, then smiled. “I knew it. You’re a swimmer, aren’t you?”
I gasped as his hands splayed over my abdomen, mine working their way under the silk of his shirt. “Yeah. It’s that obvious?”
“I thought you might be when I saw you on the beach this afternoon, but you were wearing a shirt so I couldn’t be sure. I love swimmers’ bodies.” He made an appreciative sound, groping my abs with frank admiration. “Angel, you are just hitting my buttons on every level.”
Maybe I should have gotten bashful or demurred or something, but the lavish praise felt good. This hookup wasn’t just because I was some random body available at an indiscriminate moment when he was horny. He wanted me, and I wasn’t really certain I’d ever had that before.
I got to discover that his hair was every bit as soft and touchable as I’d thought it would be. Then my hands flew down the buttons of his shirt, pushing it off his shoulders before I ducked to let him drag mine over my head. And there was skin, his against mine, warm and alive, smooth beneath my fingertips when my eyes conspired with his tattoos to trick me into thinking there should be texture. I brushed my thumbs across his nipples, making him shiver.
“Given the amount of hardware above your shoulders, I half expected these to be pierced,” I murmured against his lips. Our tongues stroked against each other in that breath of space between our mouths, not close enough to seal the kiss and delve deep.
I felt his smile. “They were, but it drew the eye away from the ink, so I got rid of them.”
His hand tried to wedge between my jeans and my skin, but there just wasn’t room for it. Only his fingertips managed to brush the root of my dick, but it was enough to make my eyes roll up in my head and my hips buck forward, seeking more. While he freed me from my fly, I dug the strip of condoms out of my pocket and threw them on the bed.
“Nice,” he hummed when I’d toed off my boots and kicked my jeans across the floor. He sank to his knees with a slight creak of leather, licking the just slightly stubbly skin around the base of my cock. “I adore this effect.”
“Hmmm?” Concentrating on the sweet nothings was getting harder, especially with his hand stroking like that, the fingers of the other teasing my balls and taint.
“Skinny boy. Shaved. Makes the cock seem very . . . commanding. Catches the eye.”
I was about to burble something amused about him being a really visual person, but then his lips were sliding along the side of my dick, his hand gliding up and down. Everything pulled up with high-wire tension and I had to catch his head, uncertain whether he meant to take me in his mouth or not.
“Don’t. Not unless you want to miss that first photo op.”
“Ah.” He drew away, his hands no longer arousing, simply stroking my hips and thighs, slow and soothing. “Need to back off a minute?”
I gave a jerky nod, licking my lips, trying to find my way free of the throbbing ache of being that close and then stopping.
“Lay down,” he whispered, placing a kiss on the hollow of my hip. He rose and peeled the bedspread back, bunching up the top sheet down at the foot. I stretched out and let him position me on my side, propped up on my elbow, with one knee hooked forward. He draped the sheet in artful folds over my hip and thigh. Not covering my dick, no. Framing it, more like. Drawing attention to it by coming so close yet not covering it.
The whole thing said come hither.
While he arranged me, he spoke. “You can tell me to stop at any time. If you’re not comfortable, or whatever. I’ll even let you wipe the memory card yourself if you need to make sure no one sees the pictures. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, okay?”
I nodded, relaxing a little more at his obvious sensitivity to the fact that I might be worried.
“Good.” He kissed me slowly, caressing my shoulder and back. “Now just lay there and think about how bad you want what we’re going to do when I’m done with the camera.”
I watched the soft, round bubble of his ass move beneath the silver-gray leather as he crossed to the equipment on the dresser and fitted a lens on the camera. I thought perhaps he did some weight training to keep in shape, because his back was solid and well defined under the red-gold spires of his tattoos, which looked like desert rock formations. When he turned around, he took a couple shots. By the time the light of the flash stopped strobing in my eyes, he had set the camera up on a tripod, and was spending some time focusing it while I watched, trying not to lose the mood.