She pulled a sour face. "I don't want to be adorable. Kittens are adorable. Miniature roses are adorable." She pointed at the framed prints. "Babies areadorable."
"If it helps," I said, "you're adorable in that 'I want to bend you over and bang you like a screen door in a tornado' kindofway."
"Mmhmm. That does help,"shesaid.
"What about adorable in the 'I'm gonna fuck you like your ex lives downstairs' kind of way? How do youlikethat?"
"I'm all for thatandmaking my ex jealous," she said. "But Hartshorn lives downstairs, notSteve."
"I fucking hate that douche waffle," I said. "I hate the way hetreatedyou."
"Me, too," she conceded. "But there's a silver lining, right? If it hadn't been for him wrecking my reputation, I wouldn't have needed a date to the cocktail partyorgala."
"Grab your phone," I said, shifting to kneel between her legs. "Let's send him a picture and let him know exactly how much better your life iswithouthim."
"Send him a picture of what?" she cried, pinning her kneestogether.
"Anything you want, Aly," I said, running my hands up her inner thighs. "But my tongue on your clit would send a pretty clear message, no? Or your face while I'm making you come?" Her eyes were unblinking and anxious, her head shaking from side to side in tiny jerks. "Or maybe we keep the pictures for our enjoyment, and send him a rotting bag of dicks. Then again, I don't mind posing for you if you'd like to give him a close-up of myballs."
A tremor moved through her body. "You—you want to take pictures? Naked pictures? Ofme?" Her breath was coming in quick bursts, her chest rising and falling, and her lips parted with a sigh. "And do what with them? You're not going to share them, right? Or post them on—I don't know—some porn site, right? Tumblr's great but I don't want you publishing my unmentionablesthere,okay?"
"Of course," I replied. "Only for us. I don't want to share you with anyone. If you hate it, we'll delete them. We'll hop in the shower—where I'll fuck you until you have grout lines printed on your ass—and then I'll buy you brunch. I didn't get a chance to do that lastweekend."
It was another attempt at apologizing. Foreverything.
"I can't feel my legs. I'm covered in hickeys and bite marks. My hair is a rat's nest, and I can barely see straight with how much I need your tongue on me right now," Alex said. "Brunch will havetowait."
"Should I," I started, wagging my phone at her, "take a picture or two while I'mlicking?"
She glanced around the room, swallowing thickly. "Why?" she asked, her voice nothing more than a whisper. "Why would you want photos of me?Ofus?"
"You, Honeybee, are perfect. I've touched every part of you. Bitten you. Sucked you. Why wouldn't I want to keep you thisway,too?"
"I'm not perfect," she said, running her palms up her legs and over herbelly.
"You're real," I challenged, "and to me, that'sperfection."
* * *
"This is fun,"I said, watching while Alex scrolled through the photos we'd taken in the past twenty-four hours. She stopped every so often, her thumb hovering over the screen while her breath burst out in heavy puffs and she rubbed her thighs together. "Sunday morning snuggles. Looking at dirty pictures. I like this shit. We're doing this everyweekend."
"Good to hear it," she murmured, swiping past a blurry shot ofsomething.
There were many out-of-focus, too-blurry-to-comprehend images, but I was committed to getting better at simultaneously fucking and photographing because seriously.Seriously. That was the hottest experience ofmylife.
We'd feasted on each other all day and all night, and photographed every filthy inch of it. We'd only stolen quick naps before the presence of naked skin stirred our need and we'd started all over again. I was tired and sore, and depleted in the most delicious ways, and sowasAlex.
I wasn't sure whether this was exhibitionism or some kind of visual kink that we'd unearthed at the same time, but I liked it. I wasn't interested in sharing these images, not even the wholly anonymous ones composed of disaggregated anatomy, but I loved the rush of doing something scandalous and then reliving these moments with Alex. Despite her initial hesitation—we hadn't sent any to the douche waffle—she loved it, too. Hence the thighrubbing.
"It's warm and cozy," I continued, nipping at her shoulder when a particularly filthy shot of her clit filled the screen. Nowthatwas art. Straight up scandalous but art nonetheless. "Yeah, Sunday morning snugs are a grand time until someone gets anerection."
"You make it sound like I'm not going to help you with that situation," Alex scoffed. "Or have you already forgotten that I'm a big fan of the heat you'repacking?"
I pulled her closer, ground my cock against her ass. My hand slipped between her legs, dipping into her arousal. "Can I have you like this? Slow and lazy while we look at photos of your fuckingediblebody?"
"You can," she said softly. "Of courseyoucan."
She propped the phone against one of the thousand tiny pillows littering her bedroom and set the album to automatic shuffle. The first was one—my stiff cock on her belly—I'd taken while swearing that I'd guard these images with my life and everything else I could invoke. There was something magical and depraved about staring at that and remembering the way my skin had been stretched past pain when I'd pointed the lensatus.
