Page 7 of Pose for Me

But both of their eyes remain locked on me, heavy-lidded with desire, pulling me into the current of their connection with a look that’s almost possessive, as if they’re inviting me to be part of it, to feel the heat that’s quickly consuming the room. And as I capture frame after frame, my own pulse races, the professional distance I usually maintain slipping as the desire and tension between them seem to seep through the camera, leaving me feeling raw, exposed, and undeniably affected.

As River’s eyes continue to stare into mine, a mischievous grin tugs at his lips. “Have you ever done an erotic shoot yourself?” he asks, his tone light but edged with something mischievous.

I clear my throat, the unexpected question making my heart skip a beat as I lower the camera briefly. “No, I haven’t,” I admit, a touch of self-consciousness creeping in.

Knox releases his grip on River’s hair, both of them still watching me. “Ever done self-portrait, then?” River asks.

I raise an eyebrow, caught slightly off guard by his question. “You know much about photography?” I ask, my tone gently challenging. River’s expression softens slightly, almost nostalgic, as he nods.

“In a previous life, yes,” he says, his voice carrying a weight I don’t understand.

I nod, and before I can catch myself, I respond. “I have done self-portrait before, but... I’m not sure they’re any good.”

River’s grin returns, laced with an undeniable playfulness. “My experience tells me that artists are their own worst critics,” he states with a knowing smile, his gaze holding mine for a beat longer. The insight makes me pause, his words catching me off-guard. “Would you let me take your photo?”

The unexpected request catches me off guard, and for a moment, I’m lost for words. I lower the camera further, blinking in confusion as I try to process what River just asked. The weight of his gaze on me feels heavy, and I can’t help but notice how much more intense the room has become, like it's on the edge of a knife, despite how relaxed and playful his tone is.

I glance at Knox, but he’s simply watching us, his expression unreadable, though there’s something about the way he looks at me that holds a faint dark amusement. I find myself wondering how much of what’s happening here is part of some unspoken game between the two of them.

I clear my throat again nervously, trying to regain my composure, but the air feels thick with anticipation. “You want to take my photo?” I ask, my voice sounding a little breathier than I intended, betraying just how affected I am by the request.

River chuckles, the sound rich and full of intent as Knox leans back on the bed and allows River to stand. The way River approaches me is like a stalking lion, the sway of his hips is pure sex and makes my mind quickly wander to how he will look when he does have sex.

I’m so distracted that he easily manages to take the camera from my hands before I can even protest.

Chapter 7

Rayne

Mymindisstillspinning, caught on the brief, featherlite brush of River’s fingers grazing mine. That single touch lingers, subtle yet electrifying, as he uses his free hand to press against my lower back, guiding me forward. His touch is gentle, yet firm, his fingers press against my spine, and I feel myself sway, my steps faltering as he propels me toward Knox. I feel the low beat of the music in each step, in each beat of my heart and each shallow breath.

Knox rises from the bed, filling my vision. The room seems to shrink, every detail blurring at the edges, except for him. Hard, tattooed flesh covers his body in mesmerizing patterns, and my gaze is drawn to the ink tracing his arms, his collarbone, his abs, slipping just beneath the fabric of his briefs. He is towering, steady and unyielding, a wall of power before me, and for a moment, I lose myself in the intricate details of his tattoos.

I almost stumble forward, but strong hands catch me. Fingers press into my hips, firm and steadying. Knox’s hands are scorching, their heat seeping through the thin cotton of my overalls, and I’m acutely aware of every point of contact, every inch of space that separates us. His hands seem to burn through the fabric, branding me with the strength of his hold, and the simple act of him steadying me feels intimate, possessive.

I look up, drawn to his face, only to find his gaze already locked on me, molten and intense. There’s a hunger in his eyes that makes my stomach flutter, and I feel a shiver race down my spine, pooling into a slow, simmering ache at my core. His presence is overwhelming, consuming, and the air between us grows heavier with each passing second.

A slow smile tugs at the corner of his mouth, a knowing curl that promises both danger and thrill. His gaze drifts over me, taking in every inch with an appreciation that leaves me feeling bare, vulnerable. “Is this okay, little Rayne?” His voice is low, rough, the gravel in his tone sending a pulse of heat through my body.

For the first time, I realize how much power he holds over me with just a few simple words. It’s a question, but there’s no real uncertainty in it. He’s not asking for permission, not really—he’s commanding, yet giving me the choice. The intensity of his gaze makes my heart race, and the ache deep inside me intensifies in response, urging me to surrender.

I’m not small. I know I’m not. I’m tall, with curves that most people notice the moment I step into a room, but standing here with them—standing between Knox and River—I feel smaller than I ever have. Their height, their confidence, their strength—all of it dwarfs me in a way that makes my mind spin, but at the same time, it pulls something from deep within me, a desire to submit, to give in to what they’re offering, even without fully understanding why.

The heat in my body is overwhelming, so I close my eyes for a moment, trying to steady myself, to regain control. I can’t make sense of what’s happening, why this is affecting me so much, but the tension in the air is all consuming. And when Knox rumbles again, his voice low and almost dangerous, my body betrays me, responding to him even before I have a chance to process the words.

“I can stop this if it’s too much,” he murmurs, his voice dark and tempting, “Simply say the word, and he will obey me.”

I could stop this. I could end it all, draw a line, regain control. But the truth is, I don’t want to. I want to feel everything, to let go of the control I’ve clung to so tightly in my life and embrace the wild uncertainty they’re offering.

I open my eyes, and the world narrows to just Knox’s gaze, dark and unyielding, as it locks onto mine. The magnetic pull between us is undeniable, and for a moment, I wonder if I’ll crumble under the weight of it. But then, something inside me shifts, and I find my voice, though it’s barely a whisper.

“No, don’t stop.”

It’s all I say, but it’s enough. The moment those words leave my lips, Knox is already moving, and before I can even register what’s happening, he’s unhooking the buttons of my overalls with an ease that makes my breath catch in my throat. I feel the fabric slip down my body, pooling around my hips, and my stomach dips. But I’m not afraid. Not yet.

His lips hover just above mine, his breath warm, almost teasing. I can feel the steady beat of my pulse as he leans in, his lips brushing against mine as he pushes the overalls past my hips and the fabric falls away. It’s slow, deliberate, and then his lips press more firmly against mine, his kiss deep and demanding, pulling me in as if we’ve been here before—like we’re both aware of the game we’re playing.

I can hear the beat of the music and under that the faint click of the camera shutter, but everything else blurs away. I’m acutely aware of Knox’s hands, of the way his fingers press into my waist—drawing my body closer to him.

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