Page 354 of Rock Me All Night
"I want it to look like you leaked this picture. It's up to you."
"Then I don't need this." I point to my camera, return it to my purse, and fish out my cell. "It should look heat of the moment. Like we were so desperate to fuck that we nearly ripped off our clothes."
"This is why I need you, kid." He pulls his t-shirt over his head and drops it on the floor. "Good?"
My gaze goes to his chest, his stomach, the soft tuft of hairs below his belly button. Very good. Great. Amazing.
I unlock my phone, open the camera app. "Maybe a few like this. Sorta... you stripping for me."
He cocks a brow. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?"
"A woman should enjoy her work."
Tom laughs. He motions to the waistband of his jeans. "These too."
"Not yet." I snap a few shots of him, waist up. God, he's yummy. Unbearably yummy. It's practically objective.
I grab the bra and panties and toss them aside. Time to think like a photographer. If we were going to fuck in here, we'd have a few good options. There's the seat. Big enough for me to climb on top of him. Or he could lift me and push me against the wall. Or turn me around and take me from behind.
A flush spreads over my cheeks and down my chest.
I pull my sweater over my head and toss it on the ground.
Tom's eyes go to my exposed skin. My shoulders, my neck, my chest. His cheeks flush. He's checking me out.
He wants me.
But he made it clear we're only friends. I'm keeping this professional. Well, as professional as pretending to fuck in a dressing room can get.
I press my cell to my chest. "Come on. Let's get posing. Grab me and press me against the wall."
"Bossy all of a sudden."
"Just do it."
"As you wish, Mistress Photographer." Tom slides his arms under my ass and lifts me. "Wrap your legs around me."
I do. It puts us in quite the compromising position. He shifts, holding me against the wall. His crotch presses into mine.
"Not sure if this will come out well." I hold my phone over my head, press my cheek against Tom's to shield my face from the camera, and take half a dozen photos.
"Can't complain about the working conditions." He shifts his body into mine, pressing me harder against the wall.
God, that feels good. I take a deep breath so I won't be totally red. "Can you set me down?"
He does. I focus all my attention on the pictures. Most of them are garbage—a whiff of hair or a strange angle on the floor—but a few are in the right direction. They focus on the tattoo spanning his shoulder blades, his arms around the mystery girl with short pink-tipped hair.
I show Tom the winners.
He points to something on the image. "Your straps are showing."
I stare back at him, unblinking.
"Keep your top on, kid. But push the straps to your shoulders or something."
"You better hope you're right about Drew not seeing these."
"I'm not worried about Drew. Push comes to shove, I can take him." He motions for me to adjust my top.
