“There is no longer any debate. You are officially the scoundrel.”
Tommy’s tone was dry, but Imogen noticed he didn’t hesitate to start undoing the buttons at his collar.
“Then you do not object?”
“Are we talking this side—” he waved a hand over his general front bits, “—or my back side?”
She tapped her chin and hummed as if in deep thought. “My self-portrait is from behind, so we can do the same for yours.”
“A sound plan. Truthfully, I’m not prepared to immortalize my cock on sepia paper.”
Laughter bubbled forth again, and a fluttering warmth danced through her veins. Only Tommy would be so candid with her. She adored their ease with one another, how they made each other laugh. She was used to either blank stares or censure when she made an off-hand joke, but not from Tommy. He either appreciated her jokes or made fun of her in return. It was refreshing.
On impulse, she leaned forward to kiss his cheek. “Have I told you yet today that you’re the absolute sweetest?”
“Not yet.”
She kissed his other cheek. “That was it. You missed it.”
He caught her against his chest and leaned down to nuzzle her lips. “Then say it again.”
“You are—” she punctuated each word with a kiss, “—the absolute sweetest.” Then she reached around and gave his buttocks a light slap. “Now hurry up. The light is fading as we speak.”
“Genie love,” he growled, squeezing her tightly before letting her go. “The next time you do that, you’ll pay for it.”
“I adore a bit of danger,” she said loftily as she circled back to her camera. As much as she would love to tease him further, the photography came first. Besides, it would be a novel experience to work while thoroughly aroused. “Luckily, I know you do too.”
Tommy paused, one pale, hairy leg free of his pants, and asked with a look of dread, “What does that mean?”
“We’re going outside.”
* * *
“Can’t you work any faster?” Tommy called over his shoulder. “My balls are freezing.”
Imogen looked up from the camera dials. Tommy stood a few paces in front of the open doorway, wearing nothing but his boots and a knit hat that hid his purple locks. Her mouth watered at the sight. He was angled away to gaze into the snowy woods, his profile protected by shadow. His body was tense from the cold, highlighting the taut muscles of his shoulders and back all the way to his freckled buttocks.
She drew a steadying breath and jogged to Tommy’s side. She had to move quickly, or she would lose the golden hour. A few errant snowflakes had already drifted from the sky, and she couldn’t quite tell if they were merely falling from the trees towering over them or if they heralded another storm.
“Here.” She handed him one of her pink mittens. “Put this on.”
He took one glance. “My hands are too big for your mittens.”
“It’s not for your hands.” She winked and jutted her chin toward his midriff.
He huffed out a laugh. “Would that I could, but it’ll fall off. I’m not hard.”
“No?” She put her hand on his left buttock and tooted it like a bicycle horn. His cock stiffened and rose on command. “There we are.”
“Genie,” he groaned as she pulled the mitten over his erection, “I swear to God you’re going to pay for all this.”
“Thirty more seconds,” she called as she hurried back to the doorway. Tommy might believe in her, but even he had his limits. She double-checked her settings and captured the shot.
“All done.” She quickly covered the lens and set the camera and tripod inside the heated cabin. “That wasn’t so bad, was—”
She squeaked as she was hoisted off her feet and tossed over Tommy’s shoulder. He anchored her with one arm over the back of her thighs and the other over her rump. Her hands scrambled for purchase, and she gasped when her cheek rubbed against his chilled skin. He kicked the door shut and stalked across the cabin.
“What are you doing?”
“Fulfilling my promise.”
She must be depraved, for his harsh, guttural words sent electricity sparking through her body. She felt flush, overheated, and a whimper of desire slid past her lips. Tommy had been pushed past his limits and now she would reap the rewards.
He tossed her onto the bed, and she bounced twice before sinking into the pile of blankets. Tommy’s eyes were glazed with need, and his chest heaved with cold and hunger. She drank in his naked body, determined to memorize every last inch of him.
“Pretty mitten,” she managed.
Tommy bit off a curse and tossed her pink mitten on the bed. “Where’s your photograph?”
She rose to her knees. “I’ll get it—”
“No. Your only job is to strip. Now.”
Her eyes widened at this new, commanding side of Tommy, and liquid heat surged between her thighs. “In the top drawer of the cabinet.”
Her fingers trembled as she removed her clothing as fast as she could. She was down to her chemise when Tommy returned, cradling the sepia photograph in his hands. He sat on the bed, and her gaze darted back and forth between the image and Tommy’s reaction. Would he judge her? Would he look at her with disappointment?
The composition of the photograph was pastoral. She lay on her belly in a field of grass, surrounded by dark foliage. Her chin was propped up in one hand, a book resting on the ground before her. The afternoon sun gleamed on her skin, emphasizing the curve of her spine, the rise of her buttocks, and the gentle slope of her calves. Flowers bloomed by her head, as if indicating the bloom of womanhood.
“Innocence and carnality.”
“Yes,” she whispered, in awe that he understood.
“And this perfect, beautiful bottom…” He traced a finger over the image before turning his burning gaze to hers. “Needs my attention.”
“H-how?”
He set the photograph aside. “Remove your chemise and lie across my thighs.”
Tommy’s demand should have embarrassed her, terrified her, but her core only throbbed with anticipation. She drew the thin cloth over her head, her nipples hardening to taut peaks beneath his unflinching attention. He guided her across his lap, and his hot, rigid cock pressed into her belly. The indisputable proof that he wanted her softened the embarrassment of having her bare bottom thrust upward on display. A book was placed beneath her face. She stared at it dumbly until recognition dawned. Tommy was recreating her photograph. Except instead of a field of grass, she lay on top of him.
Light fingers caressed her calves, then up the backs of her legs. She trembled, eager for whatever came next. She trusted Tommy implicitly, knew she could count on him to guide her to the pinnacle of pleasure. His warm palm cupped her bottom. Squeezed and molded her flesh.
“You teased me earlier.” A second hand gripped her right cheek, and she moaned into the bedspread. “You wanted to push me, to see what I would do. Isn’t that right?” She jerked a nod. “Now you’ll learn what happens when you misbehave.”
His open palm descended on her bottom, a marvelous, shocking little sting that made her sex tighten. She arched her back, and he gently stroked where he’d just tapped. “How many do you need to know I’m in charge?”
“O-one?”
“Wrong. Read the book.”
She obediently propped her chin in her hand to stare unseeing at the open pages. A second slap, this time on her other cheek. She moaned again, her core on fire. She twisted in his lap and Tommy shoved her legs apart. He ran a finger down her sensitive folds and she bucked at the teasing touch.
“You’re so wet. I knew you’d like this.” Two more slaps descended on her bottom. She quaked at each, shocked by how good it felt. How ready she was to let Tommy take control and do whatever he wanted to her. “One more, Genie love, and then I’ll reward you.”
The final slap was the loudest yet, but she barely had time to register the sting before his palm was rubbing her sore flesh in soothing circles.
“Good girl.”
Her inner walls clenched at his praise, and she whimpered with need. Her head swam as she was abruptly lifted. Her feet hit the floor and then she was facing the bed. He bent her in half, her hands bracing her weight on the mattress. And then he dropped to his knees behind her.
* * *
Tommy was obsessed with Imogen’s delectable ass. He cradled both of her plump cheeks, rosy from his attention, and couldn’t believe his luck. His wildest fantasy was in the midst of fulfillment, but that wasn’t what made his heart pound. No, the rampant thudding was because of the woman splayed before him. Not only had she trusted him with her lurid photograph—an extension of her creative side she’d told no one else about—but now she trusted him with her body in a way that went beyond their earlier explorations.
He wouldn’t let her down.
He pressed a wet, open-mouthed kiss on her bottom, licked her sensitized skin. Her sweet little moan inflamed him, and he resisted the urge to touch himself. This was about Imogen. He wanted to give her as much pleasure as she could. So much that, once their time at the cabin was over and they returned to their real lives, she’d never forget him.
He might be good enough for her inside these walls, but that wasn’t how the real world worked. A poor thief didn’t belong with a rich artist. Shoving the depressing thoughts aside, he lowered himself between her legs, directly beneath her pussy. Her dark blonde curls glistened with her dew, and his mouth watered.
“I love your taste.”
Tilting his head backward, he ran his tongue through her wet crease. She whimpered and quivered, and he committed the sounds to memory. He used his thumbs to open her up, and then he feasted. He licked up and down her delicate folds and around her clitoris. Imogen’s hips twitched forward and backward, riding his tongue. He nuzzled her clitoris, sucking it gently into his mouth while one finger probed at her entrance.
“You’re so slick and tight. Do you want my fingers?”
“God, yes,” she sobbed into the blankets. “Please.”
He obliged at once, sliding a second finger inside her swollen channel. He slowly pumped his fingers back and forth while he licked steadily at her clitoris. Her breath came in harsh gasps, her legs shaking with effort. When she tightened around his fingers, her cries of release were a symphony to his ears. At last, she stilled, and he withdrew his fingers and slid out from underneath her.
He urged Imogen to lie back on the mattress, then knelt between her spread legs. Her cheeks were bright red, her eyes glazed, but she smiled up at him. God, her smile. It strengthened him, emboldened him. He finally allowed himself to touch his cock. He was so hard he flinched at the touch.
“It’s your turn now,” she said. “What shall I do?”
“Touch your nipples.” Her hands rose at once, pinching and rolling the buds between her thumb and forefinger. With his free hand, he stroked between her legs again. “That’s it, Genie love. I want to rub my cock on your pussy. Is that all right?”
"Yes, yes.”
He nudged her thighs wider apart, then slid his aching arousal against her center. Sweat beaded on his brow as he rocked his hips with the utmost concentration. He dragged his cock through her curls, from top to bottom, and her lips grew slick with fresh arousal. The head of his cock dragged across her clitoris with each thrust, and her breath quickened once more.
Imogen’s head tossed back and forth on her pillow. “Tommy, I want more. Please, put your cock inside me.”
He shook his head vehemently. “No, I won’t do that to you. You deserve better.”
“Better than you? Nonse—”
Her words choked off when he lifted his cock and tapped it against her clitoris. A groan ripped from her throat at the startling sensation, and he shuddered, nearly delirious from pleasure.
“Come with me,” he grunted, alternating between the rubbing and tapping.
A moment later, Imogen came with a low, keening gasp. His free hand scrambled across the blankets until he found a bit of thin, lacy cloth. With the last of his sanity, he jerked away from Imogen’s silky pussy and spilled into the cloth.
Imogen lifted her arms and beckoned him forward. He crawled over her body and into her embrace, taking care not to put his full weight upon her. Her legs intertwined with his, her toes rubbing his calves, and then she stilled.
“Ouch.”
“Ouch what?”
She lifted her head from the pillow and peered over his shoulder. A gentle smile rose to her cheeks, and he found it hard to concentrate on anything else. She was flushed from pleasure, her movements slow and languid. Cupping his cheek, she said, “Look down.”
He sighed and rolled to his side to do as she asked. His eyes bulged. Black, scuffed boots still adorned his feet. And they were on the bed. Jerking both boots into the air, he rolled to the edge of the mattress. “Damnation,” he hissed, tugging sharply at the laces. “I’ll clean the mess at once.”
Imogen’s stroked his back lightly. “There’s no need, my love. Come back to bed.”
“But there’s dirt—”
“Bed. Now.”
He sent one more tortured look to the specks of dirt dotting the top blanket, and then lowered down into Imogen’s embrace. She wrapped both arms around him, and he slid his knee between hers until her soft curls brushed against his thigh. He nuzzled the crevice between her neck and shoulder, greedily inhaling the faint whispers of vanilla and cinnamon. “You’ve officially driven me to distraction.”
Her fingers played in the hair at the nape of his neck. “I think it’s sweet.”
He smiled against her skin. “Because I’m the absolute sweetest?”
“Indeed. Cleaning can wait until tomorrow, along with my chemise, which you—ahem—christened.”
“I certainly wasn’t going to spill on you. I’d never disrespect you thusly.”
Her fingers paused. “And if I didn’t mind?”
God, this woman. His exhausted loins tightened at the image. “Then we have something to look forward to.”
She resumed her gentle stroking, and they fell into comfortable silence. Tommy drifted, lulled by the fire licking at his back and Imogen’s heartbeat under his ear. They were living a fantasy, one that couldn’t possibly survive beyond the cozy walls. It didn’t matter that he’d fallen in love with Imogen, or that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. It could never work. Her family would revile him; her peers would mock him. And he would die a thousand deaths when Imogen started to resent him.
“I love you,” Imogen whispered faintly.
The hopeful, courageous words cracked his heart in two. He squeezed his eyes tightly against the moisture clouding his vision. Those three words were the most precious gift she could give him. He had no doubt she meant it, but he also knew she would regret them soon enough. He had to spare them both the pain.
And so, to his great shame, he pretended not to hear.