As she plays with the b.u.t.tons, I press up behind her, skimming my lips across her neck and my fingers up her sides. The speakers come alive with "Demons" by Imagine Dragons. Dee presses the REPEAT b.u.t.ton and swivels her a.s.s against me.

"I like this song," she says.

"I like this dress."

She turns to face me. And her breath tickles my ear as she whispers, "You're going to like what's underneath it a lot more."

She drags my jacket off my arms and drops it on the floor. I take her mouth, and she makes quick work of my shirt. Her hands glide over my chest as she backs me up, wordlessly guiding me to the couch. I sit back, expecting her to follow me down.

But she doesn't. Instead she stands up.

And the heat in her eyes-the hunger-makes my heart pound. She retrieves my camera from the coffee table, then she kneels between my spread knees, presenting it to me, like an offering.

"Take my picture, Matthew."

I breathe heavy-almost a grunt. And my c.o.c.k aches with antic.i.p.ation. Of watching her, touching her, and yes, photographing her.

On some level, every guy wants to be a p.o.r.n star. I mean, really, can you conceive of a more awesome way to make a living? Disneyland may be the happiest place on earth, but Silicone Valley is the place men's wishes come true. Homemade s.e.x tapes and photographs allow men-and women-to taste that fantasy. To reminisce and relive the most erotic experiences of their lives.

If that's too wild for your tastes, you may want to skip this next part.

Dee smiles when I take the camera from her hands. I double-check the film and the battery while she stands up and sways her hips in time with the music. Her eyes close, her head rocks side to side, her shiny, strawberry-blond locks fan out around her as she spins.

And she looks so . . . free. So beautifully unrestrained.

It takes my breath away.

I capture the moment with eager hands. Click, click, click goes the shutter.

She reaches behind her, pressing her t.i.ts forward, releasing the zipper on her dress. Unhurriedly, she peels it off her body. Revealing a sheer, black, strapless bra trimmed in bright blue with a matching thong. Her b.r.e.a.s.t.s are firm and high and completely visible through the shadowy fabric-including my favorite plaything, Dee's sparkling diamond nipple piercing.

Her dress lays forgotten on the floor as she gyrates and turns. I lick my suddenly dry lips, refocus the lens of the camera, and shoot.

Click, click.

Delores's hands slide down her thighs then skim up her stomach, cupping her b.r.e.a.s.t.s the way I want to. My fingers twitch and I grip the camera tighter.

Click, click.

My voice is rough as I say, "Come here, Dee."

And miraculously, she actually does. The moment she steps close enough, I pull her down on top of me, one hand fisting in her hair, the other kneading her smooth, tight a.s.s.

She moans against my lips. Then her hands fumble with my belt, pushing my pants and boxers down in one fell swoop. Taking her-and the camera-with me, I slide from the couch to my knees, then down onto the floor. The fabric of Dee's lingerie feels whisper soft against my straining c.o.c.k-but not as soft as her skin.

I lay her down flat, then I rear back. Keeping eye contact, I slide her almost nonexistent panties off first. When I tug at the peek-a-boo bustier, it rips up both sides, but I don't let that stop me.

"I'll buy you a new one," I promise gruffly.

Dee gives the slightest nod.

When she's beautifully bare, ready and writhing, I pick the camera back up.

Click, click, click, click.

I set the camera down, close by, and cover Dee's body with my own-giving all my attention to her amazing b.r.e.a.s.t.s. I squeeze with one hand while I worship the other with my mouth. I lick around her nipple, then I encase it with my lips-sc.r.a.ping with my teeth, flicking with my tongue, suckling hard until Dee cries out in that stunning symphony of elation and pain.

Then I start all over again with its exquisite twin.

"Do you like my t.i.ts, Matthew?" Dee moans.

I rub the pink peak with my firm tongue, then answer, "I love them. They're perfect. I could do this all f.u.c.king night."

"You like licking them?" She whimpers.

"Yes."

"Pinching them?" She sighs.

"Yes."

"Sucking on them?"

"s.h.i.t, yes."

"Do you want to f.u.c.k them, Matthew?"

White-hot need goes straight to my c.o.c.k-making me moan. Because giving her b.r.e.a.s.t.s a thorough f.u.c.king is a fantasy I've courted since the second I laid eyes on them.

"Yes," I practically beg. "G.o.d, yes, I f.u.c.king want that."

She smiles, tantalizingly. A perfect seductress-the face and body of an angel with a devil's desire. All willing and wanting.

"Me too."

Delores glides down beneath me, trailing kisses as she goes, pausing when her face is directly under my raging erection. As I hover over her, she takes me into the superb wetness of her mouth, all the way-until I feel the tightness of her throat. She eases back, leaving a heavy coating of moisture behind when she removes her mouth.

I rise up onto my knees. Dee lies between them, her b.r.e.a.s.t.s overflowing in her own hands, perfectly aligned with my c.o.c.k above them. Gently, I sit back, bracing most of my weight on my calves. She presses her b.r.e.a.s.t.s together, encasing my rigid d.i.c.k between their perfect, slick softness.

I savor the sensation. My eyes squeeze shut.

"f.u.c.k me."

There's a smile in her voice as she tells me, "That's my line."

I want to move-I want to pound against her in a frenzied rush until I find that paradise that I know is just waiting to be reached.

But I hold back-and force myself to go easy. To let her take the lead. I open my eyes and meet Dee's fiery gaze. She pushes her t.i.ts up and down-jerking me off with them-again and again.

The feeling-Jesus Christ-it's more incredible than I ever conceived.

Dee's hands still, just maintaining the snug fit, while I drive my hips forward and back-slowly-drawing out the indulgence. Then I hunch over and speed up-my breaths come faster, my heart tries to break out of my chest.

Dee pants beneath me. "Use the camera, Matthew. I want to see the pictures. After."

I hiss and I groan. Then I do what she demands. I grab the camera from the floor. And take the pictures.

Click, click.

But it's not the view of my c.o.c.k sliding between her luscious t.i.ts that I capture-that image is already seared into my brain until the end of time.

Click, click.

It's her lips-open in pleasure. Click.

Her wet, seeking tongue. Click.

Her amber eyes blazing with intensity . . . and trust. Click, click, click.

Those are the images I immortalize. The ones I need to hold on to.

Because outside of this moment-beyond our searing attraction and erotic endeavors-Delores doesn't trust me. Not fully. Not yet.

She wants to. She hopes I'm worthy. But doubt still lingers, protecting her heart-preventing her from putting her faith in me completely.

And it's okay. I don't know what scars she carries. I don't know the experiences that taught her to be so guarded. I'll wait until she's ready to show me. I'll work at convincing her, that I'm one of the chosen few she can give her trust to.

Because Delores is worth waiting and working for.

But here-now-Dee's body already believes what her mind is still wary of. That I'll never hurt her. That I want her-desire her-more than any other woman before her.

That I'll cherish every part of her-her body, her mind . . . her heart-for as long as she'll let me.

The song's drumbeat pounds. And the singer's words resonate.

This is my kingdom come.

This is my kingdom come.

My c.o.c.k slides smoothly between her b.r.e.a.s.t.s in a sensational, steady rhythm. Then Dee lifts her head. She leans forward and wraps her lips around me, pulling as much of me into her mouth as she can reach-sucking hard.

And it feels so fantastic, I swear I could frigging cry.

Pure undiluted ecstasy rips through me. I moan her name as I come hard and deep-from the marrow of my f.u.c.king bones.

After Dee swallows every drop, she releases me from her mouth. Then she smiles mischievously. "That's what I was thirsty for."

I keel over to the side, my legs no longer able to hold me up. And I try like h.e.l.l to catch my breath.

After a minute of silence, Dee asks, "Did I kill you?"

I chuckle. "Pretty d.a.m.n close. That was certainly better than I ever imagined heaven being."

I drag her to me, holding her against my chest. Our skin is slick and all kinds of sticky wonderful. "That was amazing."

"Yeah, I know." She giggles.

"But it's about to get even better."

She looks up into my eyes. "Is it really?"

I smile and nod. "It really is. Because . . ." I lift her up and slide under one of her legs so she's straddling my chest. And her sweet p.u.s.s.y is mere inches from my mouth.

Then I hand her the camera. ". . . now it's your turn."

Chapter 13.

Dee stays at my place that weekend.

On Sat.u.r.day, I bring her to the gym with me, looking very come-worthy in my rolled-up boxing trunks, a sports bra, and gloves. She made a few jabs at the speed bag and was convinced hers was broken, but I showed her it's just a lot harder than it looks.

Delores was proud of herself by the time we left-almost as proud as I was of her. She hadn't mastered the bag, but she was a h.e.l.l of a lot better than most beginners.

Then Sunday morning rolls around.

I'm awakened by whispered arguing-that raspy, not at all quiet sound that's as annoying as frigging fingernails on a chalkboard.

"No-Mom, he's sleeping. G.o.d, would you just stop! I hate when you do this! Fine-I'll wake him up. Fine!"

Hands poke and push at my shoulder.

I tell myself it's just a dream.

"Matthew. Matthew-wake up, my mother wants to talk to you."

My eyes open. And I see Delores isn't f.u.c.king with me-she holds out her cell phone.

Parents love me-always have. But, my first interaction with them is not usually over the telephone while I'm in bed with their daughter at six o'clock in the G.o.dd.a.m.n morning.

It's a little off-putting.