Page 45 of Pose for Me

I can feel her getting close, her walls fluttering around me. My own release is building, a tight coil of pleasure low in my gut.

"Come for me, Rayne," I growl against her skin. "I want to feel you fall apart."

She obeys beautifully, saying my name like a prayer as her orgasm washes over her. Like I’m her god, and her worship and devotion belongs to me. The pulsing of her pussy around my cock drags me over the edge with her. I groan, burying myself deep as I spill inside her once more.

We lay tangled together in the aftermath, our bodies still joined as the last tremors of pleasure fade. Rayne's breathing gradually slows, her body relaxing against mine as she drifts back towards sleep. I remain buried deep inside her, still savoring the exquisite sensation of her warm, wet heat surrounding me.

As Rayne's breathing deepens, I'm struck by the perfection of this moment. The soft weight of her in my arms, the silky tangle of her hair, the gentle rise and fall of her chest–it's intoxicating.

I know with bone-deep certainty that this–right here, right now–is exactly where I'm meant to be. Wherewe'remeant to be. Rayne belongs to us now, to River and me. And we belong to her just as completely.

As the first hints of dawn begin to color the sky, I find myself still wide awake, my body once again gently rocking into hers. The drag of her silken walls around me is exquisite torture, pleasure building with agonizing deliberation. I'm careful to keep my movements subtle, not wanting to wake her this time.

I continue my gentle, languid thrusts into Rayne's sleeping form, savoring every exquisite sensation. The soft light of dawn gradually illuminating her body, casting a warm glow on her skin.

Time seems to stretch and warp as I lose myself in the slow build of pleasure. Rayne's breathing remains deep and even, punctuated only by the occasional soft moan or sigh. Her body responds instinctively to mine once again, her hips rocking back to meet my shallow thrusts.

The coil of tension in my core winds tighter with each passing moment. Rayne's walls flutter and clench around me, drawing me deeper. I can feel her getting close, even in sleep. My fingers find her clit, circling with feather-light touches.

Her breath hitches, a whimper escaping her parted lips. I increase the pressure slightly, timing my strokes to match the quickening pace of my hips. Rayne's body goes taut, trembling in my arms as a soft cry of pleasure signals her release. Her pussy pulses around my cock and I let go, burying my face in her hair again to muffle my groan as I once more cum deep inside her.

As the last aftershocks fade, I carefully disentangle myself from Rayne's warm embrace. I take a moment to watch as our combined releases spill from her pussy and the sight has a possessive warmth blooming in my chest. My fingers twitch, wanting to push it back inside her.

Instead I restrain myself, settling for simply not cleaning her or wiping away the evidence of the night from her skin. Let her wake and remember, let her feel me there. Like I’m imprinted on her soul, a part of her as I was always meant to be. I dress quickly and silently, leaning down to brush a tender kiss across her temple before slipping out the way I came.

Chapter 28

Rayne

I'mstillinthemiddle of admin work that I’ve been using as a way of procrastination when a knock at the door startles me. Frowning, I glance at the clock on my computer screen. It's just past 2 p.m, and I don't have any photoshoots scheduled for a few days. Knox and River wouldn't knock—they seem to have an uncanny ability to materialize in my space whenever they please. A flutter of unease ripples through my stomach as I push back from my desk and make my way to the door.

The studio is quiet save for the soft hum of the air conditioning and the muted sounds of traffic filtering in from outside. Afternoon sunlight streams through the high windows, casting long shadows across the polished hardwood floors. I pause for a moment, my hand hovering over the doorknob, before taking a deep breath and pulling it open.

To my surprise, Tash from the "Farewell to her Tah-Tahs" shoot stands on the other side, a sweet smile gracing her features. Her long blonde hair is pulled back in a messy bun, and she's wearing a flowy sundress that accentuates her curves beautifully. For a split second, I'm transported back to our photoshoot—the vulnerability in her eyes as she bared herself to my camera, the strength and courage radiating from her every pose.

"Tash!" I exclaim, genuine pleasure coloring my voice despite my initial wariness. "What a lovely surprise. Is everything okay?"

She nods, her smile widening. "Everything's great, Rayne. I hope I'm not interrupting anything important?"

I shake my head, stepping back to invite her in. "Not at all. Please, come in."

As Tash crosses the threshold, I notice she's carrying a small, nondescript box in her hands. It's about the size of a coffee mug, wrapped in plain brown paper with no visible markings or labels.

"Oh," Tash says, following my gaze. "This was on your doorstep when I arrived. I thought I'd bring it in for you."

She holds out the box, and I take it with a murmured thanks. The package is surprisingly heavy for its size, and a chill runs down my spine as I set it on the nearby side table. My mind races with possibilities—could this be another "gift" from my mysterious stalker? Could Tash be lying, could she be my stalker? Or am I wrong to mistrust everyone now? Or perhaps something more innocuous, like supplies I'd forgotten I'd ordered?

Pushing aside my concerns for the moment, I turn my attention back to Tash. "Can I get you something to drink? Water, tea, coffee?"

"Water would be lovely, thank you," she replies.

As I move to the small kitchenette tucked in the corner of the studio, I watch Tash out of the corner of my eye. She wanders over to the backdrop where we did her shoot, her fingers trailing lightly over the soft fabric. There's a wistful look on her face.

I return with two glasses of water, handing one to Tash. As she takes it, I notice a slight tremor in her hand. The vibrant, laughing woman from our photoshoot seems subdued now, a shadow of melancholy dimming her bright eyes.

"How are you doing, Tash?" I ask gently, gesturing for her to take a seat on the plush velvet Chesterfield.

She settles onto the cushions, smoothing her sundress over her knees. The afternoon light catches the delicate gold charm on her necklace—a tiny pair of angel wings that glint as she moves. Tash takes a sip of water before answering, her gaze fixed on some point beyond the studio walls.

---