Page 53 of Dirty Pucker

I’m shocked too. This guy wants me butt-ass naked while Ingrid stands behind me and feels me up.

I won’t lie. The idea of Ingrid touching me is hot.

But here? In front of a group of strangers? For a photoshoot?

That’s gonna be awkward as fuck.

I turn to Ingrid, who looks more flustered than uncomfortable.

Still holding Luc Jean’s hands, she looks at me. “I’m down for it if you are.”

I let out a soft laugh. “Let’s do it.”

Chapter 18

Del

Afew minutes later, I’m standing butt-ass naked in front of Ingrid and her soft hands are cupping my chest.

Holy shit, her hands feel like heaven on my body.

Heat flashes across my skin as I stand there and try my hardest to hold the pose. My heart is thudding like crazy.

Luc Jean is standing just a few feet in front of us, snapping away with his camera.

“Beautiful face, Del,” he muses. “Beautiful hands, Ingrid.”

Behind me, she chuckles. The corner of my mouth quirks up, but I quickly tense my lips so that I’m holding the serious expression Luc Jean wants me to have.

“Del, dip your chin a little lower,” Luc Jean directs.

I do what he says.

“Sorry if my hands are clammy,” Ingrid whispers.

“It’s okay,” I murmur. “You’re doing great, by the way. You’ve got excellent cupping skills. Like, this is some Olympic-level cupping you’re pulling off.”

She snorts out a laugh, which makes me laugh.

Luc Jean frowns and lowers the camera. “No laughing.”

“Sorry.” I clear my throat and rein in my expression.

As awkward as this is, I’m kind of glad. That’s what’s keeping me from popping a boner right now. Because if it was just Ingrid and me alone in this studio with her hands on my chest, I’d be hard as steel.

After a minute, Luc Jean hands his camera to his assistant and walks over to us.

“Inspiration has struck me again,” he announces.

He asks Ingrid to take her hands away, then grabs my shoulder and turns me around. A half-second later, I’m facing Ingrid.

Those blue eyes turn to saucers and her lush mouth turns to a perfect “o,” clearly shocked to be face to face with me.

She blinks while staring me, like she’s trying her hardest not to look down at my dick. My heart pounds. What the hell is this Luc Jean guy doing?

He positions Ingrid’s hands on my shoulder blades.

“Dig your nails into his skin,” Luc Jean says.

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