Page 55 of Jace
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
VIVIAN
I’ve donethese shoots before. Years ago, I shot a calendar featuring firefighters in their underwear, all to donate proceeds to a no-kill animal shelter.
But their boxers weren’t wet.
And my hands weren’t shaking.
And I wasn’t in love with them.
That was professional, and this is so personal, it has a pulse between my thighs.
I should’ve known when I told Jace about my turn-ons that he’d parlay them into a pussy-wetting, heart-stopping romantic gesture for our first kiss.
Oh my god, I can’t believe we’re doing this.
I don’t know ifIcan do this.
But I want to.
In a matter of hours, I don’t recognize my life, and good riddance. It was horrible. The promise of one photo, one kiss, one night with Jace will wash the pain away.
I’m almost hyperaroused anticipating the sight of him. His touch. His kiss. I could feel anxious and afraid if I didn’t feel so safe and seduced by every moment I’ve shared with Jace.
Standing in my studio, I hear the bathroom shower down the hall cut off. Watch my trembling hands deftly load a roll of black-and-white film into my camera. Feel my heart hammering, my mind dizzy and drowning in lust.
I scan the studio one last time. Simple white sheets on the bed beckon. A single directional sidelight glows. It bathes the bed in a soft, intimate light that’ll highlight the contours of Jace’s body.
Jace’s body.
I’m not prepared; bring it on.
I check my body in the mirror propped against the wall. I’m still in my taupe sleeveless sweater dress. Swiping away my raccoon eyes, I secure my ponytail.
This is work, Viv; no, it’s not.
Yeah, well, act like it because I have no idea how to behave as Jace appears in the doorway of my studio.
Breathe. White towel hanging from his plunging Adonis belt.Breathe.Six feet, six inches of chiseled, flexing muscles.Breathe. Dramatic black ink over taut, tan skin.Breathe.A threatening bulge under his towel.Oh my god, breathe.An amber bottle of massage oil in his hand.Sweet Jesus, breathe.A water mister for plants in his other hand.Holy fuck, breathe. And hungry blue eyes raking over me as I drink him in.
“Where do you want me?” He grins.
In between my legs and taking me to Pound Town every hour.
“On the bed.”
Close enough.
A waft of amber steams off his bare skin, still drying from his shower. His huge feet pad barefoot over the white sheepskin rug. His sexy smirk looks pleased as he strolls past me, clocking my sex flush.
He plops down on the edge of the bed. “How do you do this with clients?”
Jace, a client?
Tell that to my purring cunt, poised to pounce on him.
“I, uh… I usually tell them to begin with a lying pose so they can start to relax. And as they get more comfortable, we explore different poses, and?—”
