Chapter 6
Chapter Six
The phone’s blaring ringtone does not help my annoyance. Of course, that changes when my raven hair beauty’s picture appears on my screen.
“Weren’t you supposed to be off at ten tonight?” Tori questions. I’ve been going through last week’s receipts since I was on the charity ride.
“What time is it?” I glance at my smartwatch. It reads ten-o-six in the evening. “It’s barely ten.” I chuckle at her impatience.
“I know. Are you almost done?”
“Unfortunately, no,” I huff, rubbing the tension on my forehead. Tori’s phone call is a nice distraction from work. From staring at the computer and numbers… lots of numbers.
“I might know of somethin’ that’ll motivate you. Answer the video call,” She demands and I oblige without question. She pops up on the screen with a full face of make-up and her curly hair loose and styled.
“Don’t you look pretty… are you in the garage?” I ask, noting the metal garage doors.
“I am.” She slides her camera down showing me her leather jacket, and blue and black lacy bra. She’s propped up against her blue Ford Bronco, posing for the camera.
“Fuck.” I bite my bottom lip. “What are you doin’?”
“A practice photoshoot,” she grins. Then proceeds to roll over onto her stomach, bent completely over onto the hood of her Bronco with her ass in the air. “This position would be a great ass pic.”
“You’re a cruel creature, my love.” I eye the number of receipts on my desk and my computer.
“Well, I had planned to do some couples poses with your bike once you get here… but since you're still workin’,” she pauses and pouts, letting out an exaggerated whimper. “I guess…”
“I’ll be home as soon as I’m done here. Just give me thirty minutes. Are the kids asleep?” I lean forward onto my desk.
“Yes, they are.”
“Okay. I’ll see you soon.”
I pull up onto my two-acre property. My motorcycle roars as I rev the engine to announce my arrival.
The garage door opens without me needing to hit the remote’s button.
Tori stands there still in her bra and jacket, but seeing the rest of her…
matching underwear, thigh-high fishnet stockings, boots, and nothing else...
has me hard in an instant. Behind her, I see she has set up her studio lights, and her Bronco has been moved out of the garage.
Quickly, I glance over to the carport by the shed where it’s parked next to my black Ford Raptor.
I creep up to the doors, braking just in front of her. “It’s eleven-thirteen.” She crosses her arms over her chest, accentuating her perfect breast. Clearly, she’s pissed that I’ve taken longer than I promised.
I don’t argue with her. I simply say, “I’m sorry baby. It took me longer than I expected. I’m here now to offer my help. Where would you like my bike?”
Once my Harley Heritage Classic is where she wants it, she closes the garage door and checks her three cameras’ angles, white balance, etcetera. Meanwhile, leaning against my bike, I wait to be directed and remove my helmet and shirt.
“Okay, ready.” She steps around a tripod and sways her hips over me. “Just remember… it’s recording,” she reminds me.
“Oh, I remember.” I smile, recalling the three very elicit, very high-quality videos worthy of only fans. “Just… Please don’t show Maribel the videos. Photography is one thing, but us having sex-” because that’s where these photoshoots always lead to. “That’s just-”
“Oh,” she gasps. “Trust me, I wouldn’t want her to see them either.
I’ve only shown her the pictures. The videos are for you and me only.
” She eyes me wickedly. Her brown gems peering up at me through her eyelashes as she bites the corner of her bottom lip the way that drives me crazy.
The way she knows I cannot resist. Her hands crawl up my chest and wind around my neck, her whole body leaned up against me.
“Hold this pose,” she demands. We’ve done these enough times that I know to take a torturingly long time to worship her body.
I pause only for a second… long enough for her to screenshot the picture when she reviews the footage… and my lips are on hers, not giving her an opportunity to push me away. These photoshoots are an excuse for her to tease and torment me all night. It’s her favorite way to foreplay.
And to be honest, I don’t mind it one bit. She’s my everything. She does a lot for me, our family. Taking minutes or hours kissing every inch of her skin until she gets the images she wants is the least I could do.
I trail kisses down her neck ever so slowly. She moans when I glide my tongue over her throat. She pulls out of my arms and walks towards the camera, without warning. “This is very cruel.”
She laughs at my pain. “Is it? I’m enjoying myself.” She moves one of the cameras and turns out the garage lights leaving only the studio lights on. “Fuck. Your abs look fantastic from this angle. The trick of the light also darkens your tattoos. You look like an Egyptian god.”
“Just my abs?” I climb onto my bike. “Wait, did you call me an Egyptian god? Next time I’ll wear a jackal’s mask for that one, baby. Maybe a falcon’s?”
“I wouldn’t be opposed to either,” she smiles.
Because of all her teasing, I lie back onto the seat and flex.
“Now who’s the cruel one?” she asks as she snaps a picture then directs me on how to adjust my body.
She takes a few more photos before setting it to record and sauntering over to me… adding a little sway to her hips.
She sits backwards on the bike and leans back, resting her head back onto the handlebars.
Her focus is on the camera, adjusting her fantastically curvy body.
This woman no matter what she wears or how she poses will forever be the most beautiful woman in the world.
Just watching her work, on my bike, it’s a struggle to let her tease me. To wait for her to direct me.
I prowl over the side of the bike and lean over her, taking her mouth with mine and swallowing her protest. This position is perfect. Perfect for my mouth to take her other breast into my mouth. Perfect for pulling her to me for a filthy kiss. Perfect for her to grind her hips against my hand.