18. Chapter 18 #3
And just like that, every rational thought leaves my head.
She looks down at me, her expression unreadable. Then she slowly lowers herself onto my dick. The head breaches her entrance, and we both groan. She's tight — so damn tight — but she's also incredibly wet.
She sinks down slowly, taking me inch by inch. Her face contorts in a mixture of pleasure and pain.
"You're so big," she gasps.
"That's it," I tell her, my hands tightening on her hips.
She finally takes all of me, her ass resting against my thighs. She stays still for a moment, adjusting to my size. Then she starts to move, slowly at first, then faster.
"You have no idea how gorgeous you are right now."
She moans, her movements becoming more confident. "I like it when you say that."
She starts riding me harder, her breasts bouncing in my face. I lean forward and take one nipple in my mouth, sucking it through the thin fabric of her dress. She cries out, her movements becoming erratic.
I pull back just enough to look at her.
"Do you know what you do to me?"
She shakes her head.
"No?"
"You got me fucked up, Claire."
The booth is too small for this. Every thrust sends us bumping into the walls. The curtain rattles, the metal frame groaning under our combined weight. But neither of us cares.
"Thank you."
She slows for a second, looking down at me.
"For what?"
A smile tugs at my mouth.
"For letting me show you something different."
She speeds up, her hips grinding against me.
"I love making you come."
A rough laugh escapes me.
"Yeah?"
She nods.
"I do."
My hands tighten on her hips.
"Keep doing that and I'm about to."
Suddenly the flash goes off, blinding us both.
"What the fuck?" Claire gasps, but she doesn't stop moving.
Another flash. And another. The photo booth is still taking pictures of us — of her riding my dick, of her face contorted in pleasure, of my hands gripping her ass.
"We should probably stop," I say, but I don't mean it.
"No," she moans, riding me harder. "Don't stop."
Another flash. This time, I can see the image burned into my retinas — her flushed face, her breasts spilling out of her dress, my dick buried inside her.
The thought of these photos, of what they capture, sends a thrill through me. I grip her hips tighter, guiding her movements.
"I'm close baby," I warn her.
Her eyes meet mine. The flash goes off again, lighting up the tiny booth for a split second.
"I know," she says.
"Claire—"
"Don't stop."
The words hit me harder than they should. Maybe it's the way she's looking at me. Maybe it's the fact that neither of us is thinking clearly anymore.
Another flash.
The booth rattles as she moves against me, and every coherent thought leaves my head.
When my orgasm hits, it catches me completely off guard. I grip her hips, burying my face against her shoulder as the pleasure tears through me.
For a few seconds, neither of us says anything.
Claire collapses against my chest, breathing hard. My arms wrap around her automatically, holding her close.
"Oh my god," she breathes.
"Yeah."
The photo booth spits out another strip with a mechanical whir.
My brain finally catches up with the rest of me.
I go still.
"Fuck."
Claire lifts her head.
"We really weren't thinking."
A laugh escapes her before she can stop it.
"No," she agrees. "We definitely weren't."
I drag a hand down my face. "We should probably have an actual conversation about that."
"Probably."
Neither of us moves.
The booth whirs again and spits out the photos.
We both look.
"Well," she says, her voice shaking with laughter. "Those are definitely not going on social media."
I laugh too, pulling her closer. "Definitely not."
She looks up at me, something quieter in her eyes now. "I didn't know it could be like that." A small laugh. "You're dangerous, you know that?"
"Good." I kiss her forehead. "I've got a lot more ideas."
Her smile softens.
"That's a lot of pressure."
"Good thing I like a challenge."
I take the photo strip and tuck it into my wallet behind my license, where the important things go.
***
Later that night, after I've dropped Claire home and kissed her goodnight at her door like a teenager, I sit in the Lambo in her parking garage for a while, grinning at the steering wheel.
Katie's post goes up. The Ferris wheel shot, caption just a ring emoji and four words: she said yes though.
I watch the likes climb. Watch the reposts stack. Watch the comments fill up with people who weren't there acting like they were.
Then I open my email because there's one from the Stallions VP that must have come in while I was otherwise occupied.
Subject line: URGENT — Next Play Foundation.
My first thought is that the deal came through. Then I read the first line.
The sponsor liaison has requested an emergency meeting.
I scroll down.
A rumor has circulated in league communications circles suggesting the engagement between Darius Webb and Claire Wells is a staged arrangement.
My stomach drops.
I scroll to the forwarded chain at the bottom before I know I'm looking for it.
Camille's name is in it.