Page 97 of Shadowed With Fear

“What do you mean?” I reach out, pushing her hair over her shoulder.

“Brahm told me that it was your idea to get me the camera. It was technically your gift to me; the douche bags just hitched a ride on your back.”

I shrug, “it’s not a big deal.”

“But it is to me,” she says in earnest. “It means the world to me. Thank you.”

I kiss her forehead, then her cheek, and finally her soft lips. She steps back, handing me the camera with a smile. After getting it hooked up and attached to the stand, and the remote for her to snap the images on her own.

“I’ll be over here working, if you need anything, light lights, or opinions, just yell, okay, D?”

She nods, grabbing the remote from my hand.

“Can you help me push the couch over?”

“Of course.”

We get the scene set up exactly how she wants it, the chaise lounge set at an angle in the middle of the room, a few gauzy sheets draping from the rods hanging from the ceiling, and a dark gray backdrop placed directly behind the couch.

She kisses my cheek and gets to work.

I swear I tried to do my own thing, but I couldn’t stop staring at her. It’s still so strange knowing I can do it openly now. That she knows it’s me. Is happy that it’s me. Wants it to be me.

Dahlia’s sitting on the lounge, leaning over her knees, bent slightly so her feet are flat against the cushion. I can see the uncertainty in her eyes as she poses herself. I notice the moments when she has to consciously remind herself to breathe, and to stop sucking in her stomach. And I think that has only made her more beautiful. That fact that she’s willing to be so authentic and raw. She’s determined to do this, see herself as worthy of being art. And I’m so fucking proud.

Little by little I see the confidence begin to grow within her. She’s no longer second guessing the way she positions her body, or the way she looks into the camera.

She’s blossoming. My sweet, little flower.

“If you keep looking at me like that, Professor Logan’s gonna get a real shock when he opens up my portfolio to see you bending me over this chair.”

I growl, the act happening instinctually. Dahlia smirks at me, the way she’s laying now, her ass is in the air, toes pointed, feet lifted behind her. Her back arches putting her weight onto her elbows.

“You know, I’d think that was a threat if I didn’t know how much you like people watching,” I tease in a low tone.

She blushes, flipping her hair over her shoulder. I can see the vine of roses climbing the drastic curve of her hip, over her ribs. The hand she props her chin on flashes that cute little snail.

“I do, but…” she stands, walking over to me. “I think I might just like you watching me.”

She kisses me, and it’s fiery. I grip her waist, pulling her closer.

Dahlia makes these sweet little noises every time I slip my tongue between her lips, it makes me lightheaded with how quickly the blood rushes to my cock.

She pulls away, tugging my hand.

“Come on, Grays. Let’s take some souvenirs.”

I follow her, letting her drag me along to the chaise.

“Souvenirs, huh?”

“So, you don’t want pictures of me sucking your dick, and you fucking me? Cause I can easily take back the offer.”

My mouth dries, and I blink at her. “Forget I said anything.”

She smirks, pushing me down onto the chair. Dahlia kneels between my spread knees, licking her lips.

“I wanted to do this all morning because somebody,” she glares at me playfully, “walked around half naked.”