Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 120326 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 602(@200wpm)___ 481(@250wpm)___ 401(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 120326 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 602(@200wpm)___ 481(@250wpm)___ 401(@300wpm)
“What?”
“I fell asleep in that spare room you left me in at Alistair’s. I didn’t wake up until this morning and found you still hadn’t come back. The house looked like a bomb hit it when I went downstairs.”
“I can imagine,” I say, relieved that his reason for staying out was entirely innocent. “But about last night — I have to tell you something.” I pause and take a deep breath. “When I went to find Sasha, I walked in on her with one of the strippers, a girl one. I was so mortified that I ended up running straight into a taxi and going home. Sasha followed me back, and we spent the night talking.”
Now Robert finally looks at me. He appears intrigued. “So she actually came out to you?”
“Eh, yeah. It was, well, there was a momentary awkwardness, but then we were fine, and we just talked and talked until we were too tired to talk anymore.”
“It sounds like you both needed that.”
“We did.”
“Is she going to tell Mum and Dad?”
“I’m not sure. Maybe when the time is right.”
Robert chews on his lip, pondering. My head is still resting on his shoulder. Feeling the need to connect with him, I take his hand in mine and interlace our fingers, bringing them over to lie on my lap. His eyebrow goes up as he stares down at me curiously.
“I can’t stop thinking about what you did to me last night,” I whisper bravely.
His breathing comes out sounding like a groan, and he moves his thumb against the fabric of my skirt.
“Can we do something?” he asks, all throaty.
“Yes. What is it?”
“Come with me,” he answers, tugging me to my feet and leading me into his room. He closes the door and lets go of my hand, retrieving his camera from a drawer. I haven’t seen it since he photographed me in the garden that time. He sets it down on the nightstand and then lies down in the middle of the bed.
“Um, okay,” I say, not knowing what to do. “What’s the camera doing out?”
“I’ll tell you later. First I want you to explore me. I don’t want you to be nervous when we’re alone together anymore. Last night you were so anxious you were practically shaking.”
“I wasn’t that bad,” I protest.
“That’s because you weren’t the one looking. I want you to be relaxed when I touch you. I don’t want you to be feeling anything other than pleasure.”
My mouth has suddenly gone dry. “All right, what should I do?”
“Whatever you want. Strip me naked, touch me, look at me, get used to me. Think of my body as your playground. You can do whatever you want, and I promise not to interfere.”
This offer seems too good to be true, and I’m still suspicious of what the camera is for. I take a step toward him but then hesitate. “I can’t do it, Rob. It’s too weird.”
At this he bolts up from the bed and drags me down to him. Once I’m seated beside him, he lies down again, spreading his arms out on either side of his body, his head resting on the pillows.
Biting my lip, I reach out for the hem of his T-shirt and pull it up slightly, revealing the “V” of his hips. Glancing up at him, I find him staring at me, his attention rapt and his breathing shallow. I pull the T-shirt up all the way, and he obliges me by raising his body so I can lift it off over his head.
I stare my fill before running my palm over his six-pack and up along his pecs, shying away from his nipples even though I want to see what they feel like. He must be reading my mind, because he takes my hand and places it over one nipple. I suck in air and then exhale.
I glance at him for several seconds, undecided.
“I told you, you can do whatever you want to me,” he urges, his voice strained now. I watch the muscles in his arms move as he clenches his fists.
Lowering my head to his nipple, I touch my lips to it softly.
“Fuck,” Robert hisses.
I look up at him, and our eyes connect.
My other hand wanders down to the buckle of his jeans, and when I get just shy of the blatant bulge in his pants, his eyelids flicker. I have no idea what I’m doing. Figuring things out as I go along, I press my palm to his erection as my inexperienced tongue slips out and swirls around his nipple. Unwillingly, I let out a quiet moan and begin rubbing him slowly up and down.
He gasps but otherwise remains quiet, just silently watching my actions. This continues for several more minutes as I trail my hands along his naked skin and undo the fly of his jeans. The next time I look at him, his mouth is hanging open as he instructs me, “Grab my camera.”
“Why?”
“Just get it, baby, please.” The desperation in his voice is what moves me. I lift the camera and bring it to the bed. He takes it from me and turns it on before handing it back.
“I want you to pick out the parts of me you like the most and photograph them.”
I stare at him for a long time before my eyes light up with understanding. Not only is he giving me free rein to get to know his body, he’s also trying to make me understand why he likes to photograph me. “I’m not sure about this.”
“Stop lying. I can tell you want to just from the eager look on your face, Lana.”
I narrow my gaze at him and study the camera, messing around with some of the functions. Next, I try to figure out exactly which parts of his body I like the most. To be perfectly honest, every piece of him is my favourite. I move up the bed and focus the camera on his face, zooming in on his lips. After how good they felt going down on me, I’m definitely a little bit preoccupied with them right now.