Rock Reclaimed (Rock Revenge Trilogy 2)

“Hey.” She kneeled in front of me and rubbed my thigh. “Where did you go?”

“We should just run away together.” I said it as a joke, but there was a part of me that was deadly serious. “Just say fuck the world and go off to some little isolated corner that’s ours alone and make mad, passionate love day and night.” I leaned forward and cupped her cheeks, well aware she was reeling from what I’d said. Some joke. “What do you say?”

“I say you’re absolutely crazy. You’ve always wanted this life. And now you’ll just chuck it for the privilege of banging me?” She snorted and tried to ease back, but I dug in and held on.

She went still, her gaze turning sharp.

Not wary. Not afraid. Already she trusted me.

“I wanted music. I wanted to sing. To be heard. I’ve found I don’t need the world to hear me, not if I have one person who does. All I need is that one.” I wetted my lips. “I need you.”

Awareness sparkled between us, as potent as smoke. Thick and deep and drugging.

Almost defiantly, she lifted the camera she still held between us, forcing me back. I let her increase the space, but I didn’t tuck away any of the emotions I knew had to be on my face. If she wanted to study them through the safety of her viewfinder, she could. But she’d see them just the same.

She tilted the camera and pressed the button. And kept pressing it as she climbed on my lap, somehow still taking shot after shot. Then she set her camera aside—carefully, on the plump cushion beside us—and attacked the laces on my shirt, pulling them wide and lowering her mouth to my chest. She made quick work of my leathers, and then she wound her fingers around my cock. She gave it a firm stroke, no teasing whatsoever, and I let out a long, grateful groan.

It wasn’t a declaration of love, but I’d take this. I’d take Zoe any way she’d offer herself to me.

Almost unconsciously, I fumbled for her camera. I’d seen her playing with it enough that I knew what to do. I lifted it slowly, so slowly, as she licked my collarbone and rubbed my cock hard enough to make me bite off an oath. I couldn’t get the camera to my eye to check the view, but I knew the image she made was goddamn amazing. She’d tied her long white-blond hair back in a braid and the purple ends made it look as if the tail had been soaked in paint. Stupidly hot.

I managed to hit the button once before her head snapped up and she nearly broke my dick in half.

“Mind the jewels, love.” I barely managed not to gasp. “I may be a young stud, but an injury like that’ll put a man out of commission.”

“You’re not supposed to be taking pictures of me.” She reached for the camera and I held it out of reach. She shifted on my lap and brought up her knee, and for a second, I thought she might deliver the kill shot right then and there.

Oddly, the thought made me even harder. A masochist, I was.

“Uh-uh-uh.” My admonishment made her snarl. “Turnabout is fair play. You got a few shots for your personal collection, am I right?”

From the stubborn set of her chin, I knew I was.

“Then I’m going to take a few for mine.” I ran my tongue inside my lower lip. “Let me see your beautiful tits.”

She didn’t balk. Even annoyed, she wouldn’t back down from the challenge I’d thrown down.

Though I was really wishing I’d locked that studio door, assuming it was even possible from the inside. Perhaps we should adjourn this until—

Then she unbuttoned her shirt and I decided a little possible exhibitionism was good for the soul.

Good Christ, my woman was sexy.

She had on a simple lace bra that was more for function than style. She was compactly built and perfect, with the hint of dusky pink nipples showing through the lace. I took a picture, then caught my tongue between my teeth as I pulled down the lace cup and one swell popped free. “Your turn,” I murmured, capturing the tight tip with my teeth and handing her the camera. She started to set it aside and I shook my head, growling a little around her nipple. “Take the shot.”

“The angle—” She shifted and reclined backward, bracing her free hand behind herself on my knee. Then she tilted the camera and I drew her nipple to the side, my tongue making it all slippery. The instant the shutter sounded, I sucked it deep inside, barely aware of the shutter snapping again and again.

I didn’t know if she’d get anything from this impromptu session, but I couldn’t worry about it right now. There was just the taut peak against the roof of my mouth, and the soft flesh of her inner thigh as I ran my hand up the inside of her leg. Her cotton pants—boy shorts, she’d called them once—stopped me for a heartbeat before I was sneaking inside the leg, pushing my fingers up to where she was slippery already. And not from my tongue this time.

Not yet.

Without a word, I plucked her up off my lap and set her down on the sofa, smiling up at her as she grasped my neck as if I was going to fling her around the room. Far from it. I planted my arm on her belly and slid down the couch until my face was squarely pressed between her splayed thighs. While I pushed up her skirt and drew off those detestable knickers that blocked her from my view, she continued to take pictures.

Lots and lots of them.

My hair fell forward as I skimmed my teeth over the soft swell of her belly just above her waistband. She pushed my hair back, then slid her fingers along my jawline, making a quiet sound of pleasure when I drew her fingertips between my lips. Somehow she continued to take photos, though she bobbled the camera more than once.

Reluctantly, I let her fingers slide out of my mouth. “Coordinated, aren’t you? Let’s see how long your abilities last, love.”