The composition of the photograph was pastoral. She lay on her belly in a field of grass, surrounded by dark foliage. Her chin was propped up in one hand, a book resting on the ground before her. The afternoon sun gleamed on her skin, emphasizing the curve of her spine, the rise of her buttocks, and the gentle slope of her calves. Flowers bloomed by her head, as if indicating the bloom of womanhood.
“Innocence and carnality.”
“Yes,” she whispered, in awe that he understood.
“And this perfect, beautiful bottom…” He traced a finger over the image before turning his burning gaze to hers. “Needs my attention.”
“H-how?”
He set the photograph aside. “Remove your chemise and lie across my thighs.”
Tommy’s demand should have embarrassed her, terrified her, but her core only throbbed with anticipation. She drew the thin cloth over her head, her nipples hardening to taut peaks beneath his unflinching attention. He guided her across his lap, and his hot, rigid cock pressed into her belly. The indisputable proof that he wanted her softened the embarrassment of having her bare bottom thrust upward on display. A book was placed beneath her face. She stared at it dumbly until recognition dawned. Tommy was recreating her photograph. Except instead of a field of grass, she lay on top of him.
Light fingers caressed her calves, then up the backs of her legs. She trembled, eager for whatever came next. She trusted Tommy implicitly, knew she could count on him to guide her to the pinnacle of pleasure. His warm palm cupped her bottom. Squeezed and molded her flesh.
“You teased me earlier.” A second hand gripped her right cheek, and she moaned into the bedspread. “You wanted to push me, to see what I would do. Isn’t that right?” She jerked a nod. “Now you’ll learn what happens when you misbehave.”
His open palm descended on her bottom, a marvelous, shocking little sting that made her sex tighten. She arched her back, and he gently stroked where he’d just tapped. “How many do you need to know I’m in charge?”
“O-one?”
“Wrong. Read the book.”
She obediently propped her chin in her hand to stare unseeing at the open pages. A second slap, this time on her other cheek. She moaned again, her core on fire. She twisted in his lap and Tommy shoved her legs apart. He ran a finger down her sensitive folds and she bucked at the teasing touch.
“You’re so wet. I knew you’d like this.” Two more slaps descended on her bottom. She quaked at each, shocked by how good it felt. How ready she was to let Tommy take control and do whatever he wanted to her. “One more, Genie love, and then I’ll reward you.”
The final slap was the loudest yet, but she barely had time to register the sting before his palm was rubbing her sore flesh in soothing circles.
“Good girl.”
Her inner walls clenched at his praise, and she whimpered with need. Her head swam as she was abruptly lifted. Her feet hit the floor and then she was facing the bed. He bent her in half, her hands bracing her weight on the mattress. And then he dropped to his knees behind her.
Tommy was obsessed with Imogen’s delectable ass. He cradled both of her plump cheeks, rosy from his attention, and couldn’t believe his luck. His wildest fantasy was in the midst of fulfillment, but that wasn’t what made his heart pound. No, the rampant thudding was because of the woman splayed before him. Not only had she trusted him with her lurid photograph—an extension of her creative side she’d told no one else about—but now she trusted him with her body in a way that went beyond their earlier explorations.
He wouldn’t let her down.
He pressed a wet, open-mouthed kiss on her bottom, licked her sensitized skin. Her sweet little moan inflamed him, and he resisted the urge to touch himself. This was about Imogen. He wanted to give her as much pleasure as she could. So much that, once their time at the cabin was over and they returned to their real lives, she’d never forget him.
He might be good enough for her inside these walls, but that wasn’t how the real world worked. A poor thief didn’t belong with a rich artist. Shoving the depressing thoughts aside, he lowered himself between her legs, directly beneath her pussy. Her dark blonde curls glistened with her dew, and his mouth watered.
“I love your taste.”
Tilting his head backward, he ran his tongue through her wet crease. She whimpered and quivered, and he committed the sounds to memory. He used his thumbs to open her up, and then he feasted. He licked up and down her delicate folds and around her clitoris. Imogen’s hips twitched forward and backward, riding his tongue. He nuzzled her clitoris, sucking it gently into his mouth while one finger probed at her entrance.
“You’re so slick and tight. Do you want my fingers?”
“God, yes,” she sobbed into the blankets. “Please.”
He obliged at once, sliding a second finger inside her swollen channel. He slowly pumped his fingers back and forth while he licked steadily at her clitoris. Her breath came in harsh gasps, her legs shaking with effort. When she tightened around his fingers, her cries of release were a symphony to his ears. At last, she stilled, and he withdrew his fingers and slid out from underneath her.
He urged Imogen to lie back on the mattress, then knelt between her spread legs. Her cheeks were bright red, her eyes glazed, but she smiled up at him. God, her smile. It strengthened him, emboldened him. He finally allowed himself to touch his cock. He was so hard he flinched at the touch.
“It’s your turn now,” she said. “What shall I do?”
“Touch your nipples.” Her hands rose at once, pinching and rolling the buds between her thumb and forefinger. With his free hand, he stroked between her legs again. “That’s it, Genie love. I want to rub my cock on your pussy. Is that all right?”
"Yes, yes.”
