Page 136 of The Girlfriend Zone

She’s a gift, and she’s unwrapped herself for me. I bury my face between those pretty thighs and I kiss her sweet, hot pussy on camera.

In seconds she’s panting and moaning, but the camera’s not clicking.

Pride floods me. She’s so into this she forgot to triggerthe shot. I stop for a second, squeeze her thigh to get her attention. When she lifts her face and locks eyes with me, I arch a brow. “Take a picture. It lasts longer.”

Her eyes widen, flickering with surprise and filthy delight. “Yes, sir.”

She raises her hand and makes a show of pushing the button on the remote. Again and again, and the Nikon clicks, recording the back of my head, some of her face—who even knows. Her fingers rope through my hair again as I lick and kiss and suck.

But I don’t let her forget her job. “Push the button, baby,” I tell her once more when the camera’s gone silent.

“If you insist,” she says.

“I really fucking do,” I say, in a tone that brooks no argument.

She obeys, then rocks against my mouth, wet and slick and needy and almost there. A flick of my tongue, a kiss from my lips, a finger crooked inside her, and she’s shaking, shuddering, then dropping the remote, which I’ll call a victory. Then she shouts my name as she comes on my lips for no one to see later.

That’s okay. The memory’s seared on my mind.

I’m more aroused than any man has a right to be. I’m ravenous to look at all these photos right fucking now.

But first I need to live the rest of it. No, Igetto live the rest of it.

Turbocharged by lust, I stand and I stare at the beauty in front of me, flushed cheeks, pink spreading all over her chest, breasts heaving.

I grab her chin, roughly tug her toward me the way she likes. “I made a decision.”

“What do you want, Falcon?” she asks. It’s a challenge and I love it.

“I want it all,” I tell her roughly.

Her eyes sparkle, and I can tell I gave her the exact right answer. “You want us fucking?”

Thank god she’s kinky in all the best ways. The ways that match mine. “You perfect, dirty girl. I want you on all fours. Remote in your hand and you taking pictures when I fuck you good and hard and make you come again and again.”

For a second or two, she hesitates, and I try to read what concerns her. But then I don’t have to because she points to a standing mirror in the corner of my bedroom. “Move the mirror so I can see your face.”

That’s it. I’m done. My heart jumps so hard, it’s official. I’m so fucking in love with her. I bend down, cup her cheek, and give her a soft, quick kiss before letting go. “You’re fucking perfect, and I love that you told me exactly what you need.”

Because as I stride over to the mirror, I get the double meaning here too. This way, with me behind her, she can still see my face if she needs toseewhat I’m saying, tohearme with her eyes.

Naked and lithe, she stretches out on the bed.

Our bed.

Ours.

Everything feels like ours, and I hope she travels to where I am emotionally. But I can do my part in getting her there—by being the best boyfriend there is. And part of being a good boyfriend is listening. I move the mirror so she can watch us—I can watch us too—then grab a condom and shed my boxer briefs.

On the bed again, I climb over her, kiss her sweet mouth, then pull back. “Do whatever you need to do withyour camera. But I need to get inside you and then get off to it tomorrow.”

She gasps, wriggling under me, kissing me more.

“Leighton,” I warn. “Do it now. Your man is going to make you come so fucking hard again.”

“So cocky,” she teases, then hustles behind the camera. When she returns to me, she grabs the remote and gives me the most provocative stare. “Make me forget to take pictures.”

“I’ll make sure you remember,” I taunt right back before I grab her, tossing her onto the bed the way she likes being handled.

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