Before Vegas.
Before I got married.
Before I lost my best friend and myself.
Before I found love in the place I least expected it.
“I guess you’re right,” I say, running my hand through my hair. He flips the sketchpad to a clean page, glancing up at me from over it.
I can’t help but wonder how I’d react if this were Savannah. If she had grabbed the pad from my hands… I wouldn’t be happy. In fact, I’d be angry. That tells me all I need to know about my marriage, and about her. It tells me I’m in the right placenow.If only I could stay and completely avoid that life back home. Is there a way to do that? Can I make this work forever? I have to try.
“So, uh, how do I pose?” I ask, trying to hold in my laughter as I make a show of leaning against the couch dramatically. “Like this?” I arch my back, extend one leg out and lean one arm behind my head like I’ve seen models do on the covers of magazines.
“First off, we need to get you out of those clothes,” he says, his gaze full of mischief.
“Oh, is that what we’re doing?” I say, removing my underwear in a flash.
“Mhmm. Good start. Now…” He twists his lips. “Lay on your stomach. Elbows in like this…”
He models the pose for me, and I do as he says.
“You can’t even see my dick,” I say sarcastically.
“Nope, but I can see your fine ass,” he teases as thunder rolls in the distance.
“Okay, turn your head to the right a little bit,” he says, taking a seat on the edge of his coffee table. “Hold your head right there.” I do as he says, but my neck starts to get stiff.
“Can I move yet?” I ask.
“Not yet,” he says, licking his lips.
I try to be still, but being stared at like this… it’s kind of a turn on, if I’m being honest.
My cock twitches beneath me and I have to shift to get comfortable.
“Okay, done,” he says, turning the pad around, and I have to suck in a breath because—fuck.
It’s good.
Like really good. Better than he used to draw in college, that’s for sure.
“That’s… that’s really good, Cam.”
“I know,” he says, flipping it around and signing his name in the corner. “Still got it.”
After he’s done, he jacks me off and does that thing with my prostate that has me coming within seconds, which makes me feel so relaxed I think I could pass out and then we finally shower, where I make him come in my mouth.
By the time we’re fully dressed in our sweats, it’s near four p.m. The Chinese take out Cam ordered arrives just as the ending plays for Titanic and Celine’s vocals fill the room as the credits roll.
“What should we watch next?” he asks as he settles on the couch next to me, handing me my takeout container of Chinese food.
“You pick. I picked the last one.”
He grabs a plastic fork full of noodles, then nods.
“I think I have just the thing,” he says. “Hold on a second.”
I stuff my own forkful of noodles into my mouth, getting comfortable. I tuck my bare feet beneath me and sit up straighter.
