A guttural moan rent from deep within Trace and spilled from his lips as he pulled up the next photo. How the hell had he forgotten these? Or her, for that matter? After seeing her in his home, talking to her—hell, touching and kissing her again—that night came back, some of it anyway, clear as hot summer day in Texas.
The words photos and payment jarred his memory quick as lightning. He recalled the moment he stepped into the cabin; on an adrenaline high that plummeted as he cleaned up the mess. It wasn’t surprising after his hellish day. But damn. His finger hovered over the Delete button. He was loathe to remove this one. Hell, he didn’t want to erase a damn one.
A groan ripped from Trace’s clogged throat. An image of her, dark-red hair tumbled wildly about her bare shoulders and those eyes as deep as a spring pond twinkled with delight and daring—a goddess with long legs and freckles splattering her face and body: it was a wonder he’d forgotten her at all.
Another image filled the screen. Good God, that was real? It came back like the flash of light from each click from the camera. She was a temptress in red boy-short lace panties. Blatantly inviting him to ravage her. After an hour, he’d had enough. Throwing off his hat, he prowled toward her. He reached out and took the camera from her hands, placing it on the chair.
Unable to resist her charms any longer he wrapped his hands around her waist, holding her still as he bent his head, capturing a nipple, sucking the tight bud into his mouth. He licked it with long strokes until she squirmed in his grasp, her breath leaving her parted lips in short pants.
“Wrap your legs around me, baby,” he’d murmured, moving to the other plump breast giving it the same careful attention. Trace’s cock throbbed and his own breaths became irregular as he stared at the phone in his hand. A hint of damp red curls peeked above her crossed legs.
“Don’t fucking move.” He gently laid her on the bed, ripped her panties from her body and lowered his mouth to Jacy’s sex. It was wet with her honeyed juices. He liked the name. She replied on a mewling sight when he asked her name. His cock and balls hardened with need. She arched into his mouth and lost himself in the sweet taste of her honeyed juices.
He placed his hands on her hips to keep her still and feasted. He took the small button of her clit into his mouth sucking nipping it until it hardened. Her distinct flavor burst on her tongue and Trace couldn’t hold back.
Standing he rummaged in his wallet for a condom. She moaned in protest, leaning up on her elbows. “Gotta have you now, darlin’.” Her bright gaze bored into his body but it was the slow slide of her tongue over her lower lip that rendered his brain cells utterly useless.
In one movement he released the button and zip on his jeans, sliding them down his thighs. He tore the foil packet, removed the rubber, and slid it over the sensitive head of his cock—
Tearing his mind for making love to Jacy, his thumb slid across the screen, the next shot came into view. Hell, he didn’t even know how to use the camera on his phone until she had shown him and then proceeded to pose for him. “It’s only fair since you’re modeling for me,” she had cooed. Her mirthful laughter echoed in his head even now.
Fuck the temperature was getting hot in here. His gaze was glued to the screen. No denying it: the woman had delectable breasts. And if he remembered correctly, he had licked the swell along the inside of her cleavage, her writhing and begging, until he finally kissed his way to the peach areolas. She tasted just as sweet.