The Photographer Read online

  The Photographer

  Art Lovers #3

  * * *

  Becca Colton

  Copyright © August 2019 Becca Colton

  All rights reserved.

  Cover image © Can Stock Photo / StarsStudio

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  Enjoy steamy short reads filled with alpha males who know what they want?

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  Table of Contents

  Mailing List

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Epilogue 1

  Epilogue 2

  Also by Becca Colton

  Mailing List

  Copyright Notice

  Chapter 1

  Harper

  “I’ll give you five hundred for all of it.”

  I stare at the man like he’s lost his mind. I gesture at all the photography equipment strewn across the counter in front of him. “There’s over three thousand dollars’ worth of equipment here.”

  The man shrugs. “It’s used equipment. Used equipment that will take up counter space that might not sell.”

  I glare at the man but bite my tongue. I know he’ll probably sell all this stuff in less than a month, but I need the money. I force a fake smile onto my face. “Five hundred is fine. Thank you.”

  He flashes me an oily knowing grin. The bastard. The rent on my little dinky apartment is due in a week. All fifteen hundred dollars of it. And the landlord isn’t exactly known for his generosity, although he did offer a discount in exchange for a monthly blowjob. Ugh! No thanks. I’d rather sleep in my car.

  And speaking of sleeping in my car, since five hundred dollars isn’t really going to help keep a roof over my head, I figure I’ll set aside some for a week’s worth of groceries, a tank or two of gas, and then blow the rest on getting shit-faced drunk. After all, pretty soon I won’t even be able to afford to do that.

  I bite back the tears as I climb into my seven-year-old Toyota. I’ve already packed everything and stuffed it in the back, just in case the landlord decides to slap a lock on the apartment door a few days early. I’ve heard from others that he has a tendency to do that since he then turns around and sells everything in the apartment.

  “Damn it!” I slap the steering wheel, my frustration boiling over. I moved to the city a year ago, ready to set the world on fire with my photography. I’m good, and that’s not just my ego talking. I’ve had brides-to-be ohh and ahh over my images, and then they take their business — and their money — somewhere else. I don’t know what I’m doing wrong, but it’s time to admit defeat. I’ll get smashed tonight and then call Mom and Dad tomorrow to tell them I’m coming home. I’ll move back home, move back in with my parents, and work at the local gas station or feed store while taking pictures on the side. At least I’ll take pictures on the side when I’m able to buy another camera.

  I shake the depressing thoughts out of my head. There’ll be time for depressing thoughts tomorrow, when I’m hung over and griping at myself for blowing money I could’ve saved. Tonight is all about getting wasted and feeling good. Hell, I might even have a one-night stand since I’ll be leaving this place soon. I laugh to myself. Yeah, right. I’ve never done that and I don’t see myself starting tonight. It’s a nice thought, though.

  I look in the rearview mirror at the dresses hanging up in the back seat. All three of them. I’m short and curvy, with more than my fair share of hips and boobage. Dresses aren’t really my thing. But I have a sexy little black one that everyone says makes my light brown hair and blue eyes really stand out. I’ll head back to the apartment that’s mine for at least a little longer, put on a little makeup, slide into that dress, and tell this town to kiss my ass with a little bit of style.

  Chapter 2

  Harper

  Two drinks and three guys trying to get between my legs with lame pickup lines later and I start rethinking this whole thing. I don’t know exactly what I was looking for tonight but being told “a little extra cushin’ for the pushin’ is A-OK with me” was definitely not on the list.

  I glance in the general direction of the door. I can’t actually see it because of the sea of people on the dance floor but I know it’s there. And beyond it? Plan B — Netflix and chill . . . and by ‘chill’ I mean ice cream.

  Screw that. I came to get shit-faced and I’m not even halfway there. Netflix and ice cream can wait. I get the bartender’s attention — a definite advantage of big boobs. Just lean over a bit, show some cleavage, and Boom! Instant attention. When he finally manages to raise his head from the girls and make eye contact, I order two tequila shots, and then slam them down one after the other as soon as he sets them in front of me. I didn’t have dinner and they hit me like a freight train.

  I look back out at the sea of bodies, moving to the beat of the music pumping through the air like a living thing. And then I get an idea. An idea that makes the teensy sober part of my brain quake in fear. I think I can dance. I can’t. The teensy sober part of me knows this. The drunk part of me that’s running the show sweeps that tiny sober part under a rug somewhere and I head to the dance floor. I close my eyes, forget about everyone around me, and let my body move with the music. The tiny sober part of me tries one last time to get drunk me’s attention and point out that I really can’t dance, but I’m not listening. The ability to dance isn’t required tonight. There are so many bodies out here I might as well be invisible.

  At least that’s what I think until a pair of hands grab my hips and pull me against a body behind me. My eyes fly open and I squirm enough to loosen the grip and turn around, ready to give the person intruding on my good time a piece of my mind.

  Except when I turn around, I’m staring at a light blue button-up shirt that’s not too tight but just tight enough to show the impressive pecs beneath it. I look up, and then find I need to keep looking up even more. At 5’ 5” I’m not exactly tall but this man — who still has his hands on my hips — has to be at least a foot taller than me. And holy hell! I take in as much of him as I can, scared he might disappear like an alcohol-fueled hallucination if I so much as blink. Intense hazel eyes gaze down at me, jet-black hair frames the face of a god, and the short beard that covers his chin and cheeks is practically begging me to run my fingers through it. He smiles at me and I can almost feel my panties melt. I try to remember what I was going to say when I turned around, but my brain is blank so I go with the first thing that pops into my head.

  “You have big hands,” I say, leaning toward his chest, like I’m sharing a secret.

  Those hands tighten their grip on my hips and tug me closer to him. I gasp as I feel something long and thick straining against his pants, pressing against me. He flashes me a smile that launches a thousand butterflies in my tummy and I squeeze my thighs together against the sudden ache I feel there.

  “If you think my hands are impressive, you should see the rest of me.”

  Almost against my will, my eyes drop down below his waist. The club is dark, he’s wearing black slacks, and he has me pulled tight against him. I can’t see it but I know his hands aren’t the only thing big about him. I lick my lips as I force my eyes back to his face, and notice him dropping his eyes to my mouth, following the movement of my tongue. If the hard cock pressing against me wasn’t a clue, the heat in his gaze lets me know what he wants to do.

  He slides one around my waist as he turns slightly, pulling me tight against him as he leads me off the dance floor. I have no idea where he’s taking me, and I don’t care. This guy has “night I’ll never forget” written all over him, and that sounds like the perfect way to spend one of my last nights in this city b
efore I have to go back to the small town I came from.

  Instead of leading me to the front door, or the bathroom, Mr. Tall, Dark, and Please-Fuck-Me escorts me past the bar and up a small set of steps. He nods at the man standing next to a door at the top of the steps. The man steps to the side, opening the door. Of course. The VIP area. Why am I even surprised? This guy has VIP written all over him. I look around as the door closes behind us. There are three booths with wraparound seating. All of them are empty, but one of them has a glass filled with a dark liquid sitting on a napkin. He slides into the booth, pulling me with him, and then he turns those hazel eyes back to me.

  “What would you like to drink?” he asks.

  All I can do is stare. His eyes are burning into my soul, and his leg pressing against mine has another type of fire building between my legs. His arm is still around my waist, his fingers gripping me tightly, possessively. I lick my lips again, trying to force my brain to focus on the question, and then he’s leaning forward, his mouth claiming mine like a conquering army. I lean into him, moaning into his mouth as his other hand lands on my bare leg, almost instantly sliding up under my short dress.

  I spread my legs as much as the dress will allow and I feel him grin against my lips. Am I being easy? Sure. Do I care? No. It’s been a shitty day. I deserve to let off a little steam. And then his fingers slip under my panties, tracing a slow line up my wet slit, and I stop thinking altogether.

  The handsome stranger breaks the kiss, his breath hot against my ear. “I love how wet you are for me.” He traces a slow circle around my clit, forcing a moan from me. “I can’t wait to find out how you taste.” His finger slides down, dipping inside my hot pussy for just a second, and then his hand is gone from between my thighs. I gasp at the sudden absence, my eyes widening as he slides his finger, slick with my juices, between his lips. He closes his eyes and moans, sucking hard on his finger. I bite my lip, feeling my juices run down my thighs. I’ve had guys go down on me, but nobody has ever savored me the way this guy is. The expression on his face makes it look like he’s tasting the best thing he’s ever tasted. It’s a little embarrassing, and very, very fucking hot.

  He slowly, almost reluctantly, pulls his finger out of his mouth. He opens his eyes and looks at me, a slow smile spreading across his face. The lust in those eyes has me getting even wetter. “Your pussy is too sweet to satisfy a man with just one simple taste.”

  With a wicked grin that makes my clit throb, he slides down beneath the table. “What are you —” I begin to say, horrified and excited at the same time.

  And then his powerful hands grab my hips and pull me lower, closer to the edge of the seat. He pushes the hem of my dress up and I tremble at the warm breath that’s suddenly on my thighs. “Wait!” I gasp, trying to reach down to shove him away. “We can’t — What if —”

  I inhale sharply as he tugs my panties to the side and his tongue slides up my slit. “Oh fuck,” I moan, my fingers curling through his dark hair as he licks and nibbles at my swollen pussy lips.

  “So fucking wet,” he moans, his lips and tongue planting soft kisses all over my swollen mound. “I want to taste your cum, sweetness.”

  A high-pitched squeak escapes me as he pulls me tight against his mouth, my lower back resting against the seat. I release his hair from the death grip I had it in and grab the edges of the cushion I’m barely perched on, my nails digging gouges into the soft leather.

  I feel one of his hands slide between my legs, and then a finger pushes gently against my opening as he wraps his lips around my clit. “Oh god,” I moan, pushing against his mouth. His tongue draws slow circles across my clit as he slides a thick finger inside me, curling it up to stroke that special spot. I gasp for air, feeling like I’m going to pass out as his tongue starts moving faster, each touch sending sparks of pure joy up through my body that seem to explode behind my eyes. His finger rocks inside me, applying just the right amount of pressure to my g-spot, and he sucks hard on my clit. I bite my tongue to keep from screaming with pleasure, slamming my fist down repeatedly on the leather cushion, as my orgasm washes over me like a tsunami. The sex god between my thighs is moaning nonstop as he swallows my juices. I’m sure he’s doing his best but I still feel wetness run down my ass.

  He crawls out from under the table, his eyes glazed with lust, his beard glistening with the essence he just coaxed from my body. He unfastens his belt, undoes his pants, and pulls out the thickest cock I’ve ever seen in my life . . . and that includes watching porn online.

  “On your knees,” he commands, his voice heavy with lust.

  The idea of saying no doesn’t even cross my mind. I don’t even hesitate. I turn over on the wraparound seat, resting on my hands and knees. He tosses my dress over my hips and tears my panties away while making an animalistic growl.

  I’m panting with lust, dying to feel his cock in me. I hear the sound of tearing foil rip through the air, and a few seconds later I feel the head of his thick cock sliding up and down my wet slit, coating himself in my wetness.

  “Tell me what you want,” he says, his voice low, sending shivers of lust through me.

  “Fuck me,” I beg, rolling my hips against his cock. He presses forward, and I groan as he stretches me wider than I’ve ever been. At the sound, he stops, giving me time to adjust to his size. His big hands are on my hips, his fingers gripping me tight. I try to push back against him anxious to be filled, but I’m unable to move within his grasp. “More,” I rasp out in a breathy voice I don’t recognize as my own. “Give me more of that big cock.”

  He chuckles and pulls back. “Someone’s eager, aren’t they?”

  I growl low in my throat as he pulls back until just the thick mushroom head of his dick is between my pussy lips. “Fuck me,” I shout. “I need your cock.”

  One hand moves from my hip and then slaps down on my ass. Hard. I jump forward, and frustration overwhelms me as he pulls free.

  “You don’t demand, sweetness,” he says, his voice firm. “You beg.” His hand smacks down on my right ass cheek. “You ask.” And then my left. “But you do not demand.” His hand slaps down on the right side and then the left, so fast it almost feels like he delivered both at the same time.

  My ass is stinging, and I have to resist the urge to purr. Who knew I’d like being spanked?

  “Please,” I say, using the sweetest, most innocent tone I can with my body burning with out-of-control lust. “Please fuck me. Please give me that big cock.”

  His hand lands softly on the curve of my ass and I inhale sharply. It stings, but the sting is soon replaced by pleasure as he massages the sensitive flesh. “Good girl,” he says, his voice just above a whisper.

  The head of his cock presses against my pussy lips and I can’t help the shiver that racks my body. I’m desperate for his cock. I’m hornier than I’ve ever been in my life, and the man isn’t even naked.

  Slowly, he slides his thick rod in, my inner muscles clamping down on his rock-hard shaft. A low moan escapes me as he continues to fill me. I suck in a sharp breath, my eyes rolling back as I feel his cock touch places inside me that have never been touched before, and somewhere deep inside me I feel the familiar heat of an orgasm growing. “Fuuuck!” I groan as I finally feel his balls press against the back of my thighs. I could die right now because there’s no way I could ever feel better than I do at this moment.

  At least that’s what I think until he starts moving. He pulls back slow, almost his entire length retreating from me, and then he surges in like a hurricane, like a force of nature, slamming into me so hard that only his strong hands on my hips keep me from tumbling forward. He repeats the movement, slow at first but gradually getting faster. I sink my nails into the cushion, gasping for air as my lover pounds his big cock into me, over and over, his balls slapping against my ass. I want to turn around. I want to look into his eyes. I want to memorize every single thing about this man. But all I can do is hang on tight as he fucks me within an inc
h of my life.

  I knew it was coming. There was no way I could be fucked like this and not come. But my orgasm still surprises me with its speed and ferocity. One second, I could feel it building. The next, it’s here, exploding over me, drowning out my senses as I scream “Yes” over and over.

  My lover growls behind me. It’s loud, low, animalistic. His fingers tighten on my hips and I hear something like ‘Mine’ buried in the growl, and then he comes, his thick cock throbbing inside me, triggering another orgasm that strikes me senseless. For just a second, I wish he had skipped the condom. It’s a silly thought but I can’t help it. I want to feel him fill me, and then the edges of my vision go dark as a third orgasm takes my breath away. Holy fuck! Just the thought of him coming inside me was enough to make me come.

  I drop my head to the cool cushion beneath me as he holds me tight against him, his cock throbbing inside me, so hot I’m not surprised I’m sweating.

  I gasp for breath, my legs shaking so bad it takes a concentrated effort to keep them supporting my weight. My sex god finally pulls free and I have to bite my lip to not whine at the sudden feeling of emptiness. I look over my shoulder. There’s a sheen of sweat on his face and he’s breathing heavy, but he still looks hot as hell. He’s still looking at me with that intense passion too, like he wants to take me home and —

  I blink. Take me home? I suddenly realize I’d say yes if he asks me to go home with him. And that can’t happen.

  He notices me looking and flashes that devilish grin. The one that would melt my panties if he hadn’t already torn them off.

  “I do believe I still owe you a drink,” he says. His eyes drop to my ass, still bare before him, and he licks his lips. “Perhaps we could —”

  “No,” I say sharply, louder than intended, as I stand up and pull the hem of my dress down.