A Simpler Next #3
That’s it. I’m done. My heart jumps so hard, it’s official. I’m so fucking in love with her. I bend down, cup her cheek, and give her a soft, quick kiss before letting go. “You’re fucking perfect, and I love that you told me exactly what you need.”
Because as I stride over to the mirror, I get the double meaning here too. This way, with me behind her, she can still see my face if she needs to see what I’m saying, to hear me with her eyes.
Naked and lithe, she stretches out on the bed.
Our bed.
Ours.
Everything feels like ours, and I hope she travels to where I am emotionally.
But I can do my part in getting her there—by being the best boyfriend there is.
And part of being a good boyfriend is listening.
I move the mirror so she can watch us—I can watch us too—then grab a condom and shed my boxer briefs.
On the bed again, I climb over her, kiss her sweet mouth, then pull back. “Do whatever you need to do with your camera. But I need to get inside you and then get off to it tomorrow.”
She gasps, wriggling under me, kissing me more.
“Leighton,” I warn. “Do it now. Your man is going to make you come so fucking hard again.”
“So cocky,” she teases, then hustles behind the camera. When she returns to me, she grabs the remote and gives me the most provocative stare. “Make me forget to take pictures.”
“I’ll make sure you remember,” I taunt right back before I grab her, tossing her onto the bed the way she likes being handled.
Rough.
I haul her up by her hips to all fours, position her so she’s facing the camera, then yank her pretty body into place. As her tits sway beautifully, the camera clicks, capturing us.
My sexy shutterbug is already taking pics.
As I run a hand down her back, as I slide on a condom, as I notch the head of my cock against her wet pussy, the camera clicks again and again.
The sound of it cranks me up. It’s the sound of her setting the pace, dictating the rules, recording the filthy, beautiful moments we share.
Time for me to move it along, so I sink in, my breath stuttering out of my chest in a rush at the tight, hot feel of her.
She’s watching me in the mirror. And I know now it’s not just so she can see my lips move.
She’s watching every detail of the way we fuck, studying every reaction of mine as I fill her, cataloguing how the pleasure, the heat, the tightness, makes me shake with lust.
I meet her dirty gaze in the reflection. “Watch me,” I tell her in the glass.
“I can’t look away,” she says breathily, her hand curled around the remote, triggering shot after shot.
I ease out, raise a hand, and smack her ass as I slide back in. She yelps and it’s gorgeous. “You like that,” I say. It’s not a question at all. It’s a statement.
Still, she answers with a shuddery, “God yes.”
I do it again, lifting the same hand, easing out, sliding in, and swatting her ass.
She moans, her face twisting with pleasure. She’s not too far gone though. She presses the button. Another click. I ease out. Lift my other hand.
Smack. Click. Fuck.
Soon we find a filthy rhythm. Of triggers. Clicks. Slaps. Thrusts. Moans. And us, as I say to her in the mirror, my jaw ticking, my bones tight with need, “I love fucking you.”
It’s simple. It’s not sophisticated dirty talk. But it’s pure, raw truth.
“I love when you fuck me,” she pants out.
I piston my hips, pumping into her, taking her, and listening for all her cues.
Watching them, too, like when her grip loosens.
Her hand uncurls. The clicks stop as her breath comes faster.
I cover her, my chest pressed to her back, then I slide a hand over her tits up to her throat, and I curl my palm around her.
The noise she makes is a needy, desperate whimper.
“One more, baby. Give us one more picture,” I urge.
“You do it,” she says, like she’s too drugged out on the pleasure to think.
I reach for the remote by her hand and press the button.
Not artfully like her. But bluntly as I fuck my woman.
I fuck her on camera. I fuck her in the mirror.
I fuck her on the bed. And I record it for us as I give it to her exactly how she wants it because she gives me everything I want—her.
At some point, I stop clicking and it’s just us, two people who can’t get enough of each other as I fuck her to another orgasm.
And her sounds, and her screams, and her cries wring a powerful one out of me, too, as we fall apart together.
Watching us in the mirror.
* * *
Later, when we’re cleaned up, she brings her tablet into bed with us. She’s downloaded the pictures to a password protected folder. She shows me every single one. It’s the hottest slideshow I’ve ever seen.
“That’s you and me,” she says.
I kiss her temple. “You and me.”
And it feels like the start of a whole new future.
Only, there’s so much I have to figure out. So much I’d have to say to someone—one person I respect immensely.
But most of all what I need to figure out is if she’s as all in as I am. Because that’s what matters most.