Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
Ella
I walk a few steps away, heart pounding harder than I want to admit, and lay down on the towel like he told me to.
It’s warm beneath my legs. The breeze plays with my hair, and I know what I must look like—flushed, a little windblown, probably still trembling from the way he grabbed my ass like he owned it.
Maybe he does.
He lifts the camera and points it at me. His expression shifts—hungry, focused, reverent all at once. “Just look at me,” he says.
So I do.
I’m not used to being looked at like this. Like I’m not just hot or pretty or fuckable, but like I’m some rare artifact that he’s stumbled across and isn’t quite sure he’s allowed to keep.
Click.
I jump a little at the shutter. The sound breaks the spell for a second—but then I relax into it, into him. He’s not looking for the perfect angle. He’s looking for me.
“How do I look?”
His mouth twitches like he’s holding something back. “You look like everything I never thought I’d have,” he murmurs. “Like something I’d get on my knees for and beg to keep.”
My breath catches. It’s not what he’s doing—it’s how he’s seeing me. And the way it makes me feel isn’t just sexy. It’s… precious.
“I shouldn’t be photographing you,” he says. “I should be painting you or sculpting your image from clay.”
Everything inside me tingles and a trickle of desire pools in my bikini. I swallow thickly, my heart pounding madly.
Am I going into some full-on “draw me like one of your French girls” territory?
Maybe. My cheeks burn in the heat of the sun as he walks around me, the camera held tightly in his hand.
He should be photographing the sights. Not photographing me. The idea that he has these photos now in his possession makes a thrill surge through me.
I want this man in a way I’ve never wanted anything before. It’s like his eyes unlocked something inside me.
I have my steady stream of regular customers at the bar, and some of them have even been pretty fucking handsome, but they have never made me feel the way I do right now.
He takes a few more pictures. I try out a few different poses, and even though I know they will probably come out looking dorky, I don’t care. He doesn’t seem to care, either. There’s a smile on his face the whole time.
“I’m shutting down the magazine,” he rasps. “You’re the only thing I’m photographing from now on.”
“You can’t do that,” I laugh. “The ladies down at the motel might start a riot. They’ll burn the city down!”
“I don’t give a fuck.” He drops the camera on the ground and kneels in front of me. “Did you bring me out here knowing that all I’d be able to focus on is you?”
“I guess I was hoping this would happen,” I say. “I didn’t think it actually would.”
“Are you kidding me?” he says. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. I’ve been losing my mind for you ever since I first saw you. If I’d known all of this before, I would have chartered the first private jet so we could get the fuck out of here.”
Is he serious?
Would I actually run away with this guy? My dad’s best friend? Even though I can’t shake the smile from my face, I shake away the idea. It’s mildly insane.
“And we’d have to get you a million more bikinis,” he says. “And you’ll only wear them for me. Isn’t that right?”
“Yes,” I breathe.
“You’re goddamn fucking right.”
He yanks my bikini aside and a rain shower of pin-pricks hits my body.
It’s heavenly to feel his tongue on me, dancing between my folds, up to the skin where the curve in my stomach starts. I’m not super thin. He seems to like it. He growls and grabs one of my hips, dragging me closer to his mouth as it descends down to my aching, wet center.
He doesn’t avoid that little bundle of nerve endings this time. He wraps his lips around it and hums deeply, making my body surge to the edge of paradise. My knees shake, and my back arches. I feel a finger slide into me and curl up, hitting a heavenly spot inside me.
“Oh my god,” I moan, the sticky air around me making a raccoon of sensation close in on me.
My chest is heaving up and down, my nipples are hot and puckered up against my bikini top, and the heat between my legs is becoming unbearable.
Cole spreads my lips apart and juts his chin against the opening of my soaked core. The stubble pricks at me in the most incredible way, like he’s making a mark on me.
“Fuck,” I moan as he slides a finger lower, between my cheeks. His finger slides against my ass, my sticky desire flowing down his chin and soaking everything. He doesn’t press forward, doesn’t breach the tight entrance, but still, I see stars.
He kneels between my parted legs. I can see the outline of his cock in his shorts. I mean, I can really see it now. It’s not just the outline, though. I can see every thick inch of muscle, and I whimper when the tip presses harder against his shorts.
The pads of his fingers brush back and forth against my clit. The searing pressure is too hot. Too heavy. He presses his lips against mine and I whimper into his mouth. I don’t know if I can take very much more of this.
“What do you want me to do?” he rasps.
“I want you to fuck me.”
He huffs out a laugh.
“When I fuck you, it’s not going to be like this. It’s going to be back at the motel where I can fuck you properly. I’m going to make you addicted to me. You’ll never want to leave.”
I can’t respond, because a moan purrs through me when he puts his mouth on me again.
The release approaches hard and fast. No more teasing licks or fluttering of his tongue. He slides a finger inside me, splits my lips apart, and wraps his lips around my aching clit.
I can’t keep it together any longer. I start rolling my hips, knees trembling.
“You’re gonna make me cum,” I whine. He curls his finger up, stroking and caressing the soft fleshy pad of a billion nerve endings inside me. White light starts at the top of my head and tumbles down to my shoulders as the heat inside me reaches a fever pitch.
“I’m coming,” I mewl as my core jumps and pulses against his fingers. My slick channel squeezes around his finger like I never want him to leave.
Because I don’t want him to leave.
I think he’s going to wipe my juices off his chin, but instead he brings the towel close to his face and inhales deeply, then rubs it against his face like he wants even more of my juices on him.
I watch him as he does it. I don’t know why that’s so hot, but it is.
And from the heated, dark look in his eyes, I can tell we are just getting started.