“Absolutely.”
I lost the sweats, feeling suddenly self-conscious for one of the first times in my life. My body wasn’t perfect, but then, no one’s was. I had a scar on my stomach from where I’d had an emergency appendectomy, and another scar on my ribcage from a fight with Roe when we’d ended up rolling down an embankment and a piece of glass had gotten stuck there, luckily only doing superficial damage. I was pale at the moment, having not seen any proper sun for months and I was probably leaner than I liked to be, choosing running recently over the weights.
“You’re beautiful.”
Iris’ words hung in the air like fireflies.
“I’m really not.”
She shook her head. “To me you are, and isn’t that what matters?”
I relaxed. Breathed. “It’s the only thing that matters.” The words couldn’t have been more raw than if they’d been scrubbed with sandpaper.
“Lie back on the bed, head propped up and pull the sheets over your cock.”
I followed her instructions again, my brain managing to make my body do what it was told without me being that cognizant, because all I could really focus on was Iris.
The shoot that she needed to do was over. The photos she’d taken already were the ones she’d share with Zoey to give her an idea. Iris would probably use a few of them for her portfolio as well.
The ones she was taking now were for personal use only.
The expression she wore mirrored mine. Suppressed desire. The brief battle between us about who would give in first was over, a draw called, because neither of us were going to leave this room until we were completely satisfied.
I started to pose of my own volition, sitting on the edge of the bed, casting moody glares at the photographer, my hand on my cock barely hidden by the tilt of my torso. There was no way of hiding how I was feeling right now. I didn’t want to hide it.
I moved in front of the window, the shutters tilted for privacy even though there wasn’t any need. I looked out through the shutters, no longer concealing my arousal, aware of the bead of pre-cum at the tip that Iris would definitely notice.
“Tell me,” I said, not looking at her. “Are you wearing anything under that skirt?”
There was a pause. Stillness.
“No.”
I had my answer.
“Good girl.” I turned to her, my hand on my cock, stroking it slowly. This was indecent now, all of it. Iris’ cheeks were flushed, her movements slower. “Why did you leave them off?”
“Because they were only going to be soaked.”
I leaned against the shutters. “Tell me how wet your pussy is?”
She put the camera down. “My thighs are sticky.”
I nodded, keeping my hand gripped on my cock. “Take your skirt off and let me see.”
There was a moment of hesitation. “I’m not begging - ”
“You don’t need to beg. Not right now. Take it off.”
She undid a zip and pushed the skirt down over her hips, leaving her bare in front of me from the waist down.
“Lose your top. Not that it’s hiding anything anyway.” Which was her point.
She pulled it off over her head, and stood still, letting me take in the curves of her body, the swell of her breasts, the very gradual slope of her belly.
I was desperate to fuck her, desperate to be inside her, to feel her come on my cock, to have her underneath me, holding on while we became as close as two people could get.
But not today.
