Page 56 of Jace
“Yes, ma’am.” He smiles, eagerly crawling backward on the bed, even with his hands full. Reaching, he sets the oil and water on the nightstand before turning back to face me.
Looking down, I adjust my camera settings, willing myself not to freak the fuck out.
But when I glance back up, nope, freaking out is well underway.
Jace has flung his towel over the side of the bed. He’s wearing white Calvin Klein boxer briefs, and he’s…
Huge and…
Getting harder.
God help me, don’t let gravity work. A wave of desire threatens to knock me over.
He lifts his head, grinning at my tongue practically hanging out of my mouth. “Get over here, Smokeshow, and take the shot.”
Take him? Or the shot?
Are you fucking kidding me? Him!My pussy stomps her foot. But my heart insists,The shot. Take the shot.
Approaching the edge of the bed, I lift my shaking camera, hiding my heated face behind the viewfinder as I frame the image. Letting his beauty lead me. Letting the light work its magic. Letting shadows curve and carve over his sculpted muscles.
This is art.
Jace is art.
“If it feels natural,” I coach, “let your arm rest above your head and relax your legs. Try to open. Breathe and do what feels beautiful for you.”
I’m mesmerized watching his threatening body submit to me. His biceps pop when he lifts his arm. His hulking thighs relax, falling open.
But his erection firms. It’s pressed down his thigh. He’s not hiding his desire for me. He’s letting me control it. Capture it.
But I put my focus on his handsome face, on his stunning eyes; they almost do me in. They’re staring back at me, reaching through my lens and into my soul.
Jace is equally focused on me, equally working his magic. He’s capturing my heart with his hungry stare, all while the music lulls about belonging.
I could toss my camera aside and take him now, but I follow the rules. The rule of thirds, framing the exquisite length of him without noticinghissavage length.
It’s swelling harder beneath his underwear. It’s arching so thick and raw and ready against his thigh.
I swallow. My hands shaking. My fingertip pressing the shutter. A cacophony of clicks fills the room along with Kravitz crooning from a speaker.
“This’ll be our song, Vivian.” His husky voice emanates, making me jump.
Reaching, he grabs the amber bottle from the nightstand. Pumping oil into his palm, he looks deep into my camera,into me, as he starts caressing his pecs slowly. He does the same down his abs while I wait for the shot, wait for my breath. Good luck. It’s lost to this seductive visual: watching Jace oil his manly torso until my pussy is as slick as his skin.
“Is this good?” He knows the sight of him is my fantasy fulfilled. “Viv?” He jolts me out of my haze.
“Yes,” I mewl.
He tugs at his thick waistband. “Then stand over me, Smokeshow, and let me give you more.”
More?
I know what he’s doing. He’s putting himself in my former position, vulnerable and exposed on the other side of the lens. But he’s reminding me how intimate and erotic it can be when there’s trust.
Love.
And lust.
