Page 12 of Pose for Me

Knox chuckles, the sound low and warm. "That you can."

Standing, I move closer to him, close enough to feel the heat radiating off his body.

"She stirred not long ago," I whisper, my voice barely audible even in the stillness of the apartment. "But she's sleeping deeply again now."

Knox nods, his gaze drifting toward the hallway that leads to Rayne's bedroom. "Good," he murmurs, and I can hear the restrained desire in that single word. "Did you disturb anything? Leave anything behind?"

I shake my head. "Of course not. You trained me better than that."

His answering smile is sharp, predatory, and it sends a thrill down my spine. This is the Knox I fell in love with—the meticulous planner, the careful hunter. He reaches out, his fingers ghosting along my jaw, and I lean into his touch.

"Let's go," he says softly. "We have work to do before tomorrow's shoot."

As we make our way to the door, I can't help but cast one last glance down the hallway. The darkness seems to pulse with potential, with the promise of what's to come. Rayne has no idea how her world is about to change, how we're going to consume every aspect of her life until there's nothing left that we don't touch, don't own.

Shaking off the memories, I finish cleaning between her thighs and down her legs. Once I'm satisfied that I've washed away all traces of our activities, I use the towel to gently dry her skin. My touch lingers perhaps longer than necessary, savoring the softness beneath my fingers.

I take the bowl back to the bathroom, rinsing it out and watching the cloudy water swirl down the drain. As I set it aside, my eyes catch on Rayne's hairbrush sitting on the counter. Without hesitation, I grab it, running my thumb over the soft bristles as I make my way back to the bedroom.

Knox is still seated in the chair, his piercing gaze fixed on Rayne's sleeping form. As I enter, his eyes flick to the brush in my hand, and a small, knowing smile pulls at his lips. He doesn't say anything, but I can see the approval in his eyes, the understanding of what this simple act means.

I settle on the edge of the bed, careful not to disturb Rayne. Her hair is a glorious mess, tangled and wild from our earlier activities. Gently, I begin to run the brush through the dark strands, starting at the ends and working my way up.

I lose myself in the task, marveling at the silky texture of her hair between my fingers. It's something I've dreamed of doing for so long—touching her like this, caring for her in these intimate ways. The reality is even better than I imagined.

As I work, I tilt her head gently from side to side, careful not to wake her. Her skin is warm beneath my touch, and I can't resist trailing my fingers along the line of her jaw, down the graceful line of her neck. Even unconscious, she's captivating, and I find myself drinking in every detail of her face—the fullness of her lips, the delicate arch of her eyebrows, the tiny beauty spot at her temple that I want to kiss.

The room is quiet save for the soft sound of the brush moving through her hair and Rayne's deep, even breaths. It's a moment of peace, a chance to simply be with her, to care for her in this small way.

I catch Knox's eye as I work, and the look we share is heavy with meaning. This is more than just cleaning her up or brushing her hair. It's a statement of intent, a promise. We're going to take care of her in every way possible, tend to her every need, whether she knows she has them or not.

As I finish brushing out the last tangle, I run my fingers through her hair one last time, savoring the silky feel. Rayne shifts slightly in her sleep, turning her face into my touch, and my breath catches in my throat. Even unconscious, she's responding to us, seeking our touch.

I move to join Knox and he reaches out as he stands, pulling me close, his hand warm on the small of my back. "Beautiful," he murmurs, his eyes never leaving Rayne's sleeping form. "Both of you."

I lean into him, drinking in the warmth of his body, the familiar scent of his skin. We stand together, watching Rayne's chest rise and fall with each peaceful breath.

"We should go," Knox murmurs, his breath warm against my ear. "We have work to do."

I nod reluctantly, not wanting to leave her but knowing we need to clean up the studio. With one last lingering look at Rayne, I move back to the bathroom, replacing her hairbrush exactly where I found it. My fingers trail over the bristles, still holding strands of her silky dark hair.

Back in the bedroom, Knox is adjusting the sheets around Rayne's body, tucking her in with surprising gentleness. His large hands look almost incongruous as they smooth the fabric over her silhouette. When he's satisfied, he steps back, and I can see the possessive gleam in his eyes as he drinks in the sight of her.

"Sweet dreams, little Rayne," he whispers, voice low and dark with promise. "You're going to need your rest."

We make our way silently through her apartment, pausing only for Knox to retrieve the now-empty catnip pouch from where the cat has abandoned it.

As we descend the stairs to the studio, anticipation thrums through me. The space is thick with the lingering scent of sex and sweat, visual evidence of our activities scattered everywhere. Clothing strewn across the floor, sheets rumpled and stained, cameras still set up on their tripods.

"I'll start with the bedding," I offer, moving to strip the sheets. Knox nods, already gathering up discarded clothing. We pile them all into the small washing machine in the tiny bathroom in the corner and start it. We move efficiently, falling into the familiar rhythm we've developed over years of cleaning up after our... other activities.

Knox wipes down all of the furniture while I straighten Rayne’s equipment. As I place Rayne's cameras carefully on her desk, my eyes linger on the thick bundle of cash Knox had given her earlier. I can still vividly recall the way her eyes had widened slightly when he pressed it into her palm–that flicker of surprise mixed with a hint of awe. It was clear she wasn't used to clients valuing her work quite so highly and I wonder how often she gets clients who pay that much for a single session.

My fingers brush over the crisp bills, a small smile playing at my lips as I remember her reaction. The way her breath had caught, just for a moment, before she composed herself. How her fingers had curled around the money, almost reverently. But beneath that professional mask, I had seen the spark of desire in her eyes–not just for the cash, but for Knox, for me, for what was about to unfold.

If only she knew that we would have gladly paid a hundred times that amount to make tonight happen. The cash was just a formality, a way to maintain the illusion of a standard transaction. But what transpired between us was priceless.

And only step one on the path to changing her whole world forever.

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