Chapter 5
5
E mma
Malcolm’s garden is a thing of fairy tales. I mean, it’s hard to believe a man lives here by himself—the landscaping is flawless, with the water feature blending into a type of lazy river for the outdoors. The stream curves and outlines the entire garden, and I see squirrels drinking from it while birds quickly sip before they fly up the tall trees. “This is beautiful. How do you maintain it?”
“A talented gardener.”
“Still… it’s so relaxing.”
“Good. Come, stand in front of this tree,” he instructs, bringing the modern Canon camera with a long zoom attachment that he’s been holding for the last few minutes. Is he trying to call me on my bluff? At this point, I may as well take the pictures.
I’m afraid if I come clean, he’ll peg me as super immature. And I’ve learned that this man is much more than a super-rich Adonis. He’s well-rounded. He’s been places, he takes pictures, and he has this awesome garden. My heart melts. The longer I spend time with him, the harder it’ll be at the end. And with my track record, the end will come quickly.
So I may as well come across as the sophisticated woman who’s about to show her tits online for money. Because if he gets to know the real messy me, he’ll dash even quicker.
“Look my way,” he says, interrupting my thoughts.
“Of course.”
I slap on a smile, and he starts taking shots. At first, it’s harder than I imagined. With every snap, I feel more conscious. I’m sure I deliver a wooden smile and a neutral expression that barely hides my nervousness. Fuck. Way to go, sex goddess. Only Fans queen.
“Take it easy,” he says in a voice rich like whipped cream. “You’re overthinking. Feel the atmosphere around you… and relax.”
Easy for him to say. “God, this is bad, isn’t it?” Even as a fake adult content creator, I’m failing. Shit. I shift from one foot to the other, perching one hand uncertainly at my waist.
“There,” he says. “Now look at the camera.”
I follow his command. My shoulders drop a notch, and I lift my chin.
“Good girl,” he says in a low voice that sends thrills down my spine. “Keep moving.”
I find a sweet spot and forget I’m in front of a camera as I focus on him. I imagine if I were to open a profile on a naughty site, I’d need pictures showing a woman not posing but standing in front of her man. Seducing him.
Kinda like I want to do now. I’ve always been impulsive and audacious when I shouldn’t, but being so close to Malcolm shrinks my self-confidence. He’s so hot, so experienced, so comfortable in his own skin. Why is he doing all this? He took my bait and is helping me. But I need more. I need… lots more.
“Are you ready to level up?” he asks.
“What do you mean?”
“Take off your shirt. There are no cameras here but mine.” He gestures to the trees. “Do it slowly.”
Take off my shirt? My heart pulses in areas it’s never pulsed before. A zing of arousal surges to my core, and I shift my weight from foot to foot. I should say no. Teasing him from a different property was one thing, but now… I swallow. I can’t say no. I’ve never wanted anything more in my life. “Sure, but can you do it too?”
He lifts an eyebrow. “Me?”
I shrug. The idea makes sense the more I think about it. “You already saw my breasts. I never saw your chest. It’s only fair. Besides, I’ll be more at ease.”
“All right.” In one fluid motion, he removes his shirt over his head and drops it on the ground.
The moment his impressive chest fills my field of vision, a spark of sexual awareness travels through me, settling in my sex. Damn. He’s scrumptious. Dark hair dusts his pecs, and everywhere from his shoulders to his six-pack is broad, carved, muscly. As the hair narrows down his waistline, I can only imagine what’s under those gray sweatpants.
The tips of my fingers itch to touch him, to explore every chiseled line.
He picks the camera up and tilts his head. “Your turn, princess.”
Emma, you’re playing a dangerous game. I came here to ask for his help so my topless picture wouldn’t get out in the world, and somehow, I managed to have him take photos of me with his camera. How dumb am I?
I can’t stop, though.
A sexual-filled tension charges between us, and I’ve never felt anything similar in my life. If he asked me to rob a bank, I’d slip on a ski mask and get to it.
I touch the sides of my cotton shirt, slowly roll them up, and pull them over my head. Left with a hot pink bra, I reach for my back, unclasp it, and carefully let it slip down my arms until it falls to the ground.
“That’s right. Good girl,” he continues, his voice hoarse.
My nipples harden into diamond tips, and shameless eagerness spirals through me. I’ve had sex before, yet this is the most erotic moment I’ve ever experienced. My breasts have never felt this full and heavy, with a hot buzz inside.
“Cup your tits. Like you’re hiding them. Then slowly remove one hand, followed by the other.”
I do as he says. “This isn’t your first rodeo.”
“I’ve been to many rodeos, princess, but none like this.” His tone is so dirty that it may as well be coated with cum.
“Let me see,” I say, shortening the distance between us.
Malcolm shows me the digital screen of his camera and each time he clicks on the right arrow, I see a new pose of me. The pictures look good, fun, and yes, super sexy, but not in a gang-bang porn way. More like the way I intended. He captured my best angles.
“You’re talented,” I say, impressed.
“You helped.” He gives me a sideways glance and resumes going through the pictures.
I’m standing right next to him, my hip almost brushing his as I look at the pictures. Warmth shifts from him to me, and the energy intensifies. I’m so aware of my existence and everything around us that I’d hear a leaf fall on the grass. I also hear my maddening heartbeats, another buzzy rush in my ears.
“This one is my favorite,” he says.
I lean closer. Now our hips are definitely brushing—and the side of my bare skin touches his. I quiver. He shows me, and I study the one he’s pointing at. I’m smiling, flirting with the camera, boobs out.
“I love it. I wish we could remove my birthmark.” I always feel subconscious when I see the small pear-shaped mark on my neck. It doesn’t look atrocious or anything, but in pictures, that’s what I look at first. “It’s always bothered me.”
“This one?” he asks and touches my neck.
I shiver. Oooohh, things are getting dangerous. Very, very dangerous.
My throat feels thick, and a flutter crosses my stomach. I look at him as he outlines my birthmark, the touch of his index finger on my skin enough to heat it. We’re so close to each other. Keep touching me. Venture lower. Even my inside voice is breathless.
“Yes,” I hiss.
“Why? It’s cute.” He circles the area around it, and the main pulse on my neck jumps. My pussy throbs.
I lean into his touch, eyes half closed, so fucking aroused I can barely think. He runs his fingers down my neck, and I suck in a breath. He touches the valley between my breasts. I’m hyperventilating, wishing he’ll cup my breasts, pull me to him, and kiss me.
My jean shorts have never felt so flimsy. I’m so wet the fabric is about to disintegrate.
“Malcolm,” I whisper, my voice throaty.
He withdraws and stares at me with those mysterious eyes. “Can I take you on a date tomorrow?” he asks. “When we’re properly dressed.”
My heart gallops in my chest. A mix of anticipation and frustration swirls inside me, and I don’t know which to cling to. Why isn’t he kissing me? We’re semi-naked and alone. “It depends. Are we getting properly undressed at the end of the date?”
“Definitely,” he says and kisses my cheek.
Anticipation surpasses frustration, and a foolish sensation sweeps over me. Yes. We’re going on a date, and we’ll have sex. “Then we’re definitely going on a date tomorrow.”