“And what about this outfit?” I say, gesturing at the dress. “Do you really think this was the best choice? Don’t get me wrong, Brooklyn, you’d look stunning in a paper bag, but silver isn’t your best color.” I tap a finger to the base of her throat. She eyes me but doesn’t move. Her cheeks color with anger. Good. Let her get pissed.
“I would have put you in gold, to show off your burnished skin. Play up your golden glow.” I look at the photos again and shrug. “The background was fine, your co-star? Less so. Mateo might be hot shit right now, but nobody’s going to remember his name in five years. He’s second-rate at best and does nothing for your image.”
Her eyes flash knives at me and I smirk, knowing that I got under her skin. Professionally speaking, Mateo is a very attractive man—he didn’t skyrocket to fame for no reason. I’m straight as you can get, but it’s part of my job to know good looks.
The truth is, I’m lying. Brooklyn’s best friend looks great beside her. Almost as good as I do when she’s on my arm. They’re happy in these photos, their body language demonstrating how much they’re enjoying each other, how comfortable they are together.
It burns me to see her so damn happy in another man’s arms. They clearly have an effortless, undeniable chemistry between them—hell, the huge smiles on their faces as they dance together would be very appealing if this photo was a shampoo advertisement, but that’s beneath Brooklyn’s talent.
Besides, I can think of much better ways to have her posed. With me. I should have been on the dance floor with her, behind her while she grinded that round, tight ass against my cock. In front of her, holding her tight enough that I could feel her nipples through our clothes. I should be on top of her right now, commanding and dominating her body.
Heat ripples through me, making my cock twitch. Her eyelids flutter, the flush on her face fading from angry red to soft, aroused pink. I know that color…I know that expression and the set to her lips. She cocks her head and takes another step back. The wall is directly behind her and she leans her ass against it, placing one hand palm down on the wall next to her. Her other hand slides up the center of her body before going up and over her head.
“Maybe I’m not the model you’re looking for, then,” she taunts. Her breasts thrust out as she moves her arm higher and pretends to relax with the wall supporting her. “Maybe I’m not the right image.”
She knows exactly what she’s doing by redirecting me from my anger with her body. My temper starts to wane as I wander toward her. “Oh, you’re definitely the right model.” I pull my cellphone out again and open the camera, snapping a few pictures as she gazes into the lens. “You just look better here. In this light. In front of my eyes.”
“Oh really?” she asks, her voice throaty and turned on.
I don’t take time to overthink it. “Put both hands palms down against the wall by your hips and lean forward. One shoulder higher, and look up.”
She blinks twice and slowly moves her hands along the wall to do as I ask. With a little push, she leans slightly forward and tosses her hair over one shoulder, then flicks those smoky eyes up toward the ceiling. I keep the camera clicking the whole time, moving closer so I can get a better shot of her cleavage. God, her tits are fucking perfect. I want them free so I can see her hard pink nipples on my screen.
“Untie the straps of your dress and let the top fall down.”
She lifts her chin, eyeing me with a combination of defiance and lust. A long beat of hesitation passes before she pushes away from the wall and slowly reaches behind her neck. She unties the knot and the silvery fabric slips down loose over her breasts. She catches it with one arm across her chest, waiting for me to take another photo, and then she lets it fall.
“Perfect,” I breathe, ignoring the tightness in my pants. “Now lean back.”
She does, her bare breasts bouncing as her back hits the wall. “Like this?”
I nod, snapping a few more pictures.
“Bend your right knee and put your foot on the wall,” I go on, directing her. “Arms above your head.”
She complies, the blush on her face deepening. I know that if I thrust my hand between her legs right now, I’d find her soaked and swollen for me. I’m strung so tight that I can barely work the camera as I take a few more photos.
“Now look at me,” I say. “Like you want to fuck me.”
She looks directly at me and I reposition the camera to catch what I’m seeing, her big, dark eyes so telling of her desire. Then she moves her head a touch, lining up better with the angle, and then flashes me a look so hungry it makes my breath catch.
“Take the dress all the way off now, and hold your tits in your hands.” My voice is ragged with lust, but she never breaks eye contact as she complies.
Suddenly, gorgeously naked, Brooklyn spreads her legs apart and squeezes both breasts into one hand, exposing her entire body to me as I capture her image.
I walk toward her, taking a few more until I can’t go any further. Taking her chin in my hand, I direct her gaze to the last picture that I took.
Her cheeks are perfectly pink, her eyes heavy with desire.
“Did Mateo make you look this good? Did he make your cheeks glow like that?”
She lets out a breath as I run my hand down her body and cup her between her legs. She jumps with a little moan. It’s exactly what I expected. She’s perfectly soaked. I lean into her until I’m whispering in her ear. “Did he make your pussy this swollen?”
She moans again and I pull her away from the wall and gently push her to her knees. “Remember when you said I don’t own your body? Your pussy just admitted otherwise.”
I unfasten my button and pull down the zipper so my jeans hang open. A small grin tugs at the corners of her mouth as she looks up at me, but it fades fast as if she didn’t intend for me to see it. Too late. She loves this game as much as I do.
“You’re going to suck me off,” I tell her, angling the camera just so. “And I’m going to show you how good you look doing it.”
