Get off on the Pain (Pain 1)

My body heats up from his words and it takes everything in me not to turn around and leave. As much as I want him to let me in—him allowing this—somehow makes me so nervous that I almost forget how to use my camera . . . but only for a second. I mean, I usually don’t let a man get to me this way, but Memphis . . . he makes it hard to think straight just from being in the same room as him.

I clear my throat as I run my fingers over my camera. “I didn’t come here to get more pictures if that’s what you think. I just wanted to drop off your jacket.”

“And you did, so now you can stay.” He looks back down at his guitar and starts playing a tune I’m familiar with, but I’m too buzzed to recall the name. All I know is that it has me wanting to do very dirty things to him.

I start snapping pictures of him playing his guitar, capturing the beauty of his passion while trying to keep my cool. The way his muscles flex with each movement and the sight of his jaw tightening as the tune picks up speed is so damn sexy that I can’t take it anymore. I need to change this up and fast. I’m starting to sweat.

“Put the guitar down,” I say firmly. “If I’m shooting you then I’m making it a full session and we’re doing it my way. You might as well experience my passion the right way, and that guitar is blocking too much of your body. Put it down,” I repeat.

Well shit . . . that didn’t come out right. I blame the wine.

He looks up from playing his guitar and continues to flex his jaw. Without saying a word he sets his guitar down on the bed and stands. His chest muscles tighten at the exact moment he heatedly looks me up and down. “Alright,” he says with a smirk. He reaches for the button of his jeans and starts to undo them.

“Whoa! What are you doing?”

He pulls his jeans down till they’re just above the top of his shaft. He looks up to meet my eyes. “I’m doing what you’re too afraid to ask for. I saw the look in your eyes when I offered to get naked for you, Lyric.” He licks the cut on his lip. “So I’m giving you what you want. I’m not too fucking shy to tell it how it is, and I’m definitely not too shy to show my body, so tell me what the hell you want me to do and I’ll do it.”

My heart starts beating so fast that I wouldn’t be surprised if he could hear it from where he stands. This was definitely not what I was expecting; not from him, but I can’t help but to want it so damn bad.

“Alright. Crouch down and put both hands on the sides of your head and look down.” I watch him as he listens. I can’t deny how much I love the power that I feel over him right now. It’s extremely hot and I have a feeling this will be the only chance I get to feel it. “Okay, now look up slightly and flex your jaw.”

Without a word, he does as he’s told. “Perfect,” I whisper. I mean it. He’s perfect. “Now look down and flex your arms.” He looks into my eyes for a breathtaking second before doing so. “Yeah. Good,” I say breathless.

I take a few shots of him in that position before asking him to stand against the back wall and stick his hand under the front waistband of his jeans. I couldn’t resist, and hot damn this is my favorite picture of all time. The best part is—he’s a natural and didn’t hesitate one bit. This is by far my best photo shoot and it’s only just begun.

His eyes are smoldering, as if he wants to rip my clothes off, and I can’t keep my eyes off of his muscles flexing as he adjusts his junk. I bite my lip subconsciously and suck in a small breath.

“You like that?” He looks into my eyes and starts rubbing his hand over his cock as it starts to harden inside his jeans. “If you want me to touch myself . . .” He looks at my bottom lip as it trembles. “Then just say so. I told you I’d do anything you asked.”

I swallow hard, trying to keep from telling him what I really want. As bad as it sounds—I want him inside me, fucking me hard. I really can’t tell whether it’s the wine talking or me, possibly even both.

Not saying a word, afraid that I’ll say something I may regret, I just continue to snap photos, holding my breath as he moves naturally for the camera.

An hour in and we have over a hundred shots. The only other words exchanged between the two of us were from me giving him orders. I swear it felt as if I were holding my breath the entire time. There were so many other things I wanted to ask him to do. The way my body reacts to him is crazy to me, almost scary.

He looks up from sitting on the edge of his bed, grabs my arm, and pulls me between his legs. My breath hitches as he grips the back of my neck and brings his eyes up to meet mine. “You can go now.”

“Wait. What?” I back up as he releases my neck. “So now you’re going to just kick me out after I took all of those photos of you practically naked, and you can’t even be decent enough to talk to me. You really are an asshole.”

Running a hand through his hair, he closes his eyes and exhales. “I have somewhere to be. It’s no place for you. Trust me.” He stands and reaches for the shirt lying on his bed. He throws it on and walks past me. “You really shouldn’t want to hang around me. It’s better if you realize that quickly, Lyric. Now go home.”

“And how the hell do you know that? You have no idea what kind of person I am and where the hell I came from. Do you think I’m just some sensitive little girl that is going to fall for your charming ways—which by the way, you have none.” I take a deep breath and try to push back my anger. No one has ever tried telling me to stay away before and I don’t like it. “I can handle you. I’ve been around a lot worse. Trust me.”

A small smirk spreads across his face as he walks over and slips his hand around my waist. He pulls my body flush against his and I can’t help the small breath that escapes me. His touch feels so powerful that I lose all sense. “See the way this makes you feel? This is not safe for you.” He brushes his bottom lip over mine as he whispers, “You’ll stay away if you know what’s good for you. Now go home before it’s too late.”

Pulling away from me, he reaches for his leather jacket and throws it on over his black shirt. “Thanks for bringing my jacket back.”

“Fuck you,” I growl out. “And your stupid jacket. I’m so tired of men always trying to tell me what’s best for me, so don’t worry, I won’t be coming around anymore.”