Page 137 of The Girlfriend Zone

Rough.

I haul her up by her hips to all fours, position her so she’s facing the camera, then yank her pretty body into place. As her tits sway beautifully, the camera clicks, capturing us.

My sexy shutterbug is already taking pics.

As I run a hand down her back, as I slide on a condom, as I notch the head of my cock against her wet pussy, the camera clicks again and again. The sound of it cranks me up. It’s the sound of her setting the pace, dictating the rules, recording the filthy, beautiful moments we share. Time for me to move it along, so I sink in, my breath stuttering out of my chest in a rush at the tight, hot feel of her. She’s watching me in the mirror. And I know now it’s not just so she can see my lips move. She’s watching every detail of the way we fuck, studying every reaction of mine as I fill her, cataloguing how the pleasure, the heat, the tightness, makes me shake with lust.

I meet her dirty gaze in the reflection. “Watch me,” I tell her in the glass.

“I can’t look away,” she says breathily, her hand curled around the remote, triggering shot after shot.

I ease out, raise a hand, and smack her ass as I slide back in. She yelps and it’s gorgeous. “You like that,” I say. It’s not a question at all. It’s a statement.

Still, she answers with a shuddery, “God yes.”

I do it again, lifting the same hand, easing out, sliding in, and swatting her ass.

She moans, her face twisting with pleasure. She’s not too far gone though. She presses the button. Another click. I ease out. Lift my other hand.

Smack. Click. Fuck.

Soon we find a filthy rhythm. Of triggers. Clicks. Slaps. Thrusts. Moans. And us, as I say to her in the mirror, my jaw ticking, my bones tight with need, “I love fucking you.”

It’s simple. It’s not sophisticated dirty talk. But it’s pure, raw truth.

“I love when you fuck me,” she pants out.

I piston my hips, pumping into her, taking her, and listening for all her cues. Watching them, too, like when her grip loosens. Her hand uncurls. The clicks stop as her breath comes faster. I cover her, my chest pressed to her back, then I slide a hand over her tits up to her throat, and I curl my palm around her. The noise she makes is a needy, desperate whimper.

“One more, baby. Give us one more picture,” I urge.

“You do it,” she says, like she’s too drugged out on the pleasure to think.

I reach for the remote by her hand and press the button. Not artfully like her. But bluntly as I fuck my woman. I fuck her on camera. I fuck her in the mirror. I fuck her on the bed. And I record it for us as I give it to herexactly how she wants it because she gives me everything I want—her. At some point, I stop clicking and it’s just us, two people who can’t get enough of each other as I fuck her to another orgasm. And her sounds, and her screams, and her cries wring a powerful one out of me, too, as we fall apart together.

Watching us in the mirror.

Later, when we’re cleaned up, she brings her tablet into bed with us. She’s downloaded the pictures to a password protected folder. She shows me every single one. It’s the hottest slideshow I’ve ever seen.

“That’s you and me,” she says.

I kiss her temple. “You and me.”

And it feels like the start of a whole new future.

Only, there’s so much I have to figure out. So much I’d have to say to someone—one person I respect immensely.

But most of all what I need to figure out is if she’s as all in as I am. Because that’s what matters most.

41

THE GREAT SORTING

Leighton

Fine,fine.Birdie was right. Milesisa chef. He shows off his kitchen skills over the next several secret days and nights at his home, after he returns the four-pack to his mom’s.

I miss them fiercely. I kind of wish, too, I could have gone with him to return them. But that might have opened us up to too many questions—questions neither of us wants to face right now.

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