Private Shoot Read online

  She gasped, and her hands on my chest clenched. For a moment I thought she was going to stop me, bring me to my senses, but she didn’t. Instead, a soft sigh escaped her as I flipped the belt loose and popped the button on her jeans.

  I growled again, seriously growled. What the fuck was wrong with me? I’d never felt this visceral need before. Like I had to have her, or I’d explode. Death by blue balls was so not a good way to go.

  Her hands stroked over my chest, exploring… tracing the lines of the heavy muscles there. I tensed for her, the soft sounds of pleasure in the back of her throat feeding my ego. I liked them, liked that she was making them subconsciously. She wasn’t a screamer. I could tell that… she was too restrained and self-contained.

  I’d make her scream though. It had just become my new goal.

  I yanked down her zipper and slid my hand under the denim. She froze for a second and I pulled back to look down into her eyes.

  “I want to touch you,” I managed, the sound raw with need and lust. “And I want you to touch me.”

  Amelia

  “Oh god, yes…”

  The words came out as a breathy moan… Who this woman was, I didn’t know, but right now I didn’t care. Need and heat crawled through my body and took up residence in my veins. I arched against him, sliding my arms around his neck.

  My words made his eyes darken and a second later his lips were on mine again. A whimper escaped me as he slid his tongue against mine. There was no teasing this time. Just raw lust as he pushed his tongue into my mouth at the same time his hand slid under the denim of my jeans.

  His kisses fueled the fire in my body as his fingertips stroked under the lace edge of my panties. Thank god I’d put a nice set on today… a much-needed confidence boost I hadn’t expected anyone to see. Something hidden beneath my clothes that made me feel sexy.

  He pushed further and his fingers parted my pussy lips, stroking between them. He grazed my clit and my hips bucked. I couldn’t breathe, need slamming through me like a freight train.

  “That’s it,” he murmured against my lips, softer kisses now as he stroked me. “You like that. Don’t you?”

  I couldn’t speak. With his hand in my panties like that, any chance of forming a coherent thought had completely left the building. He didn’t touch my clit again, stroking around and beside, bracketing the needy little button in a way that sent my arousal and blood pressure sky high.

  I clung to him, chasing his kisses. Heat flushed my cheeks in fleeting shame as my hips rocked. I couldn’t help it. I needed more of his touches. More of his kisses. Fuck, if his touch affected me like this, what would him filling me be like?

  My nails dug into his shoulders as I rode his hand. He played my body like a master musician played his instrument. Each slide and stroke was designed to drive me higher, designed to make me gasp and moan under him. He ignored my clit though and my body ached, pussy clenching hard in frustration.

  He controlled my body.

  I was utterly at his mercy… and I loved it.

  I hated being told what to do normally, but this… this was hot.

  Writhing under him, I kissed him back with increasing desperation as he drove me mad.

  “Be a good girl, and I’ll look after you,” he murmured against my lips as his fingertip made a leisurely exploration of the entrance to my pussy. I stopped breathing, all my attention on that finger… on the brush of flesh against flesh in maddening circles.

  He moved. Pulled back from our kiss to look down into my face as he pushed that finger deep into my pussy.

  I moaned, clenching around him and my eyes fluttered closed.

  “No,” he growled, the deep sound making my eyes snap open again. “Look at me. I want to see you when I make you come over my hand. I want your pleasure.”

  My nails tightened again and I nodded, unable to speak. He moved his hand, sliding his finger back and adding another one as it slid in again. The soft moans and whimpers filling the air as he pumped his hand couldn’t be mine, surely? I’d never sounded that sexy in my life.

  “That’s it,” he urged, adding a thumb to press against my clit. “Let go. Ride my hand.”

  I touched him feverishly. Slid my hands over his chest and shoulders, moved them down over his stomach. The heavy muscles there rippled in response. As I slid lower, he moved, trying to twist away.

  It was too late. I already had a hand wrapped around his cock. A purr of pleasure sounded from the back of my throat as I stroked him from root to tip. He wasn’t huge—not like porn star standard—but the girth filling my hand made my pussy clench in anticipation. Thick was always better than long in my opinion, so he was ticking all the boxes.

  “God, that feels good,” he hissed, the cords in his neck standing out for a second as he fought for control. I wasn’t innocent, not by any stretch of the imagination, and I more than knew my way around a man’s cock.

  I stroked, he pumped, each of us trying to outdo the other. Then he pressed his thumb against my clit again and won the battle. I gasped, my hips bucking as my hand stalled on his cock. He smiled.

  “Come for me.” His words were a silky order, pure and simple. “Come for me now, Amelia.”

  Like my body was waiting for his order, my release hit me, washing through my veins and tightening my body. I gasped, hips moving jerkily as I chased my release. I couldn’t think, couldn’t speak, my body was moving on instinct, going after what it needed. What I needed.

  His lips claimed mine as my climax crashed over me like a tidal wave. My scream of release was lost under his kiss, the ecstasy rolling through me fed by his fingers deep in my cunt, fucking me hard and fast as his thumb ground against my clit. He drew my orgasm out until I was a shuddering mess beneath him and then finally pulled back to look down at me.

  “Fuck me,” I whispered, my body still tight with desire as I struggled to put my thoughts into words. “You’re… oh god, you’re good.”

  * * *

  Drew

  * * *

  “Fuck me…”

  That was all I heard, and my dick leaped, ready and eager to do her bidding.

  “Oh hell, yes…”

  Leaning down to capture her lips again in a quick, hard kiss, I pulled my hand free of her jeans and then started to shove them down her hips with more brute force than finesse. I wanted her, no… I needed her, more than I needed air to breathe.

  And I was going to have her. I was going to fill that tight little pussy with my rock hard cock. I was going to shove balls deep inside her and fuck her so hard she’d measure every other man by me.

  A snarl of jealousy filled my throat at the thought of her with another man. Any other man. She was mine.

  I paused for a second as I kissed along her throat. Shit. Where had that come from? I didn’t play for keeps. I was the king of the one-night stand. I rarely saw a woman more than once, never fucked one twice. I didn’t need to. They threw themselves at me.

  “Drew baby… are you in here?”

  The lilting high-pitched voice from the outer part of the studio made us both freeze.

  Kimberly. My personal assistant. I’d fucked her once and she hadn’t stopped hinting since that she’d be up for a repeat performance. The trouble was, I wasn’t.

  Amelia burst into action, shoving me off her with more strength than I’d thought her capable of. Scrambling off the bed, she yanked her clothing into place and grabbed her camera.

  “Fuck!” I hissed, falling back on the bed and shoving a hand through my hair. I didn’t care that my dick was out and pointing accusingly at the ceiling tiles like they’d personally offended it. I didn’t care what anyone thought, especially not Kim. All I could think about was the frustrated lust surging through my system as my cock and balls screamed blue murder at me.

  “How are we doing in here.” Kim breezed through the door and stopped dead, her gaze riveted to… of course… my cock. Her eyebrow disappeared into her hairline. “Oh… I didn’t realize i
t would be that kind of shoot.”

  She cut an evil glance at Amelia, whose back was turned as she looked at the back of her camera.

  “You should have told me that’s what you wanted, baby…” Her voice was sickly sweet as she pouted. The perfectly made up, glossy lips that I’d once found sexy as fuck were suddenly too plastic and artificial. “We could have organized something at home.”

  “It’s not that kind of shoot.” Amelia’s voice was professional as she looked the other woman up and down. Rather than being upset, the cool, calm and collected mask that had driven me mad before was back in place.

  “It often happens with male models. I barely notice it anymore…” she waved dismissively in the direction of my groin. Fuck me, I felt that right down in the ego like a punch to the gut. “As long as I have a camera in my hand, it’s just a picture.”

  She smiled, the expression somehow managing to include us both. “Well, I think I’m done here. I have what I need. I’ll make sure to send you a proof sheet as soon as I’ve processed the images.”

  Then, with a swish of the studio curtains, she was gone.

  “Fuck, no… Amelia, wait!” I was off the bed in a heartbeat, the need to stop her leaving overriding everything else. I didn’t make it to the door, though. Kim stepped in front of me, her taloned fingers spread wide over my naked chest.

  “Let her go, Drew. She’s done what she was paid for. You don’t need her now.”

  I snarled and looked down at her, my expression so icy I was surprised she didn’t get frostbite. “Get out of my fucking way, Kim, or you’ll be looking for a new job in the morning.”

  I didn’t touch her. If she’d been a man, I would’ve broken every bone in her hand for getting between me and Amelia, but she wasn’t a man. And I might be a bed-hopping bastard, but I didn’t force or beat up women. No way. No how.

  She lifted her hand, pale under her spray tan, and stepped to the side.

  I was through the door like a fucking greyhound, but the outer rooms were empty. Amelia was already gone. Shit. How the fuck had she gotten away so quickly? Spinning on a heel I raced back into the studio, grabbing my jeans and hauling them on. The zipper almost chopped the end of my dick off as I yanked it up, running back for the door.

  I hit the street outside, barefoot and naked to the waist, just in time to see… fuck all. No taxis disappearing around the corner, no familiar figure walking away down the sidewalk. In fact, every single fucking romance movie trope failed me as I stood in the middle of the sidewalk like a freaking lovesick moron.

  “Oh my god. It’s Drew!” a female voice shrieked from across the road and the sound of running feet signaled the arrival of a bunch of fangirls I was in no fucking mood to deal with. Not without snarling, ripping their heads off or being a complete and utter dick in one of many ways… none of which would endear me to my mostly female fan base and all would get me reamed out by my management.

  Growling in the back of my throat, I ducked back into the main entrance to the studio, ignoring the big security guys who barred the door before the crowd outside could slip through.

  Anger surging through my veins, I stalked back up to the studio to find Kim seated opposite the bed I’d almost managed to seduce Amelia in, one leg elegantly crossed over the other.

  My lip curled back at her studied appearance. From her perfectly tousled hair, airbrushed makeup and practiced pose… everything about her was contrived and fake. And all of a sudden I wanted none of it. Not ever again.

  “Find her,” I ordered. “I want to know everything about her. Where she lives, where she works, what she frigging eats for breakfast. All of it.”

  * * *

  Amelia

  * * *

  The exhibition hall was empty. My rarely worn heels clicked on the marble floor as I walked slowly, soaking up the silence as my work decorated the walls around me. The gallery manager had chased all the staff out for ten minutes to allow me to view the exhibition on my own.

  Nerves hit hard and fast. It wasn’t my first exhibition. That honor had been taken years before when, as a teen, I’d won some award or other and the local council had put my work on display in the local hall. I’d been terrified back then, but my gran had been as pleased as punch. She’d worn her Sunday best and everything.

  How would she feel now? I wondered as I turned in a circle. The Harrington-Smythe gallery was so far away from that little town hall it might as well be on the moon. And it was stunning. Images I’d taken were blown up larger than life, their subjects looking down at me in some cases or absorbed in their own lives in others.

  I walked slowly, remembering when I’d taken each image. Who it was of… the conversations we’d had that day. For some my images were art. For me, they were memories—a window into the day they were taken.

  My steps rang out as I hit the stairs and climbed to the second floor. As I reached it, though, I kept my eyes on the marble floor. I studied the way the sunlight from the huge windows that looked out onto the bay in front of the building meandered across the floor. This level contained my most recent, best work. But I needed a few moments to collect myself before I finally looked up.

  Drew Callahan looked back at me from the bed he’d almost seduced me on, dark lust and determination in his eyes. I shuddered, my body responding to the look as though the last six weeks hadn’t happened.

  Heat flooded my cheeks.

  I’d run away. Fled the studio so quickly I’d actually left a lens behind. I hadn’t even stopped running when I’d gotten back home… well, back to my brother’s apartment that I was borrowing while he was out somewhere I wasn’t supposed to know about, protecting whatever VIP he’d been hired to protect. My cell had rung almost before I was through the front door and within an hour I was walking back out of it to catch a flight to Dubai and a campaign shoot for some high-end watch brand. From Dubai it had been Tokyo for a designer’s new collection and then Sydney for a shoot with a big-name film actor. After that, I’d lost count. The weeks had merged into one.

  It seemed that shooting Drew had opened the floodgates and my standing on the international photography stage had increased. I was the fucking queen of the lens and everyone wanted to get in front of my camera. But all I wanted to be was in that studio again, in that moment of time before that stuck up bitch girlfriend of Drew’s had walked in on us.

  I closed my eyes as the heat on my cheeks intensified. I still wanted him, even though I knew he was seeing someone. What kind of slut did that make me?

  Good job I’d been working so much recently. Even if he’d tried to get in contact with me, I’d been shuttling from location to hotel to airport and back again. My evenings had been filled with processing the day's shoot as soon as I got back to my hotel room and getting the images off to where they needed to be. That was if I’d gotten a hotel room. Sometimes I’d had to process and edit the first batch at the airport and slept on the plane.

  I snorted to myself as I walked toward the image, not shying away now.

  Who was I fucking kidding? Drew Callahan was a dick… the love ‘em and leave ‘em type all mothers warned their daughters about. Hell, gossip said his dick had seen more action than a company of marines in a war zone. And I expected him to remember me? Ha! Not fucking happening. He’d have forgotten me as soon as the door closed, nearly hitting my ass on the way out.

  He probably considered he’d had a lucky escape, if he thought of me at all. I was so not his usual pick. God knows why he had tried it with me. Boredom probably, either that or he’d known his girlfriend was on her way and he was into being caught.

  Either way, compared to the supermodels and stunning actresses he usually bedded, I was totally forgettable.

  And that was the reason I’d avoided picking up any glossies in the airports or even looking at the news stands. I’d stayed off social media, not wanting to see him with his arm draped around his latest or soon-to-be conquest. As soon as I saw that, it was real. I was just an almost no
tch on his bedpost.

  I’d had a lucky escape, I told myself firmly, hands on hips as I glared up at his image. The quicker I accepted that, the better off I’d be.

  Footsteps behind me made my shoulders tighten. I was supposed to be alone.

  “The gallery isn’t open yet,” I called out over my shoulder. It was a member of staff. It had to be. The manager had said he was keeping the doors closed until seven, and it was only twenty to seven now.

  “The gallery isn’t going to open. The exhibition is canceled.”

  * * *

  Drew

  * * *

  “What?”

  Amelia whirled around to face me, and my body reacted to the sight of her like I’d been hit by a truck. I stopped breathing, my heart stalling in my chest as my gaze riveted to her. I’d seen her dressed casually before, in jeans and a shirt, and then in a lot less, but nothing could prepare me for the sight of her dressed up.

  A little black dress encased her curves, wrapping around her like a jealous lover. It wasn’t low cut, with a wide neckline that flashed the delicate bones of her shoulders rather than her ample bust, and it fell to just below her knees instead of practically showing her panties like most women I knew. Her feet were encased in delicate little strappy sandals, the tiny heel doing nothing for her height but turning her legs into sensual works of art.

  Demure. Erotic as fuck.

  I wanted to rip the damn dress off to find out what underwear she wore beneath it. Then rip it off again and tumble her to the floor and finally make her mine.

  “What do you mean canceled?” Her eyes narrowed, the look in them less than pleased to see me. “What did you do?”

  Her lips pressed into a thin line and every instinct within me complained. I didn’t want her pissed off at me. I wanted her soft and pliant as I took her lips. I wanted her to kiss me back like she had before. Like she had in that encounter in the studio that had haunted my days and nights for the last six weeks.