His Father

Tempest

When Devon leaves a few hours later, having calmed down significantly, I find myself feeling almost nervous.

I’m on the lounger, comfortable, a drink in hand when I sit up and look at Sargent across the way. He’s reading a novel that’s casting a shade onto his groin area. Not that I’m looking.

I have to be professional, this is all purely for artistic purposes.

So why is the thought of him naked, his cock sticking up ramrod straight, making me wetter than the fucking pool beside us?

“Sarge?”

He lowers his book and gazes at me. His eyes and demeanor toward me have softened significantly today. He’s been kind, asking me questions, and genuinely wanting to know the answers. Especially about my travels.

I showed them both my drawings too and they were very impressed. It made me feel good.

I wonder what he’ll think of my paintings.

At one point he even said that I’m a lot smarter than he originally thought. I wasn’t sure if that was an insult or not but I smiled and nodded anyway.

“Yes, Tempest?” That’s the first time he’s said my name since he discovered it and it sends a thrill through my body that has me shaking with desire.

I am fucked. Or I want to be.

By Maddox’s father or just in general? Shit.

Maddox will have a fit.

“Shall we do the art things?”

“Art things?” He too sits up and raises a thick brow. “You want to do it now?”

Yes, I want to do it now. “I just really want to draw you as soon as possible.” I am being professional. I am. This isn’t about seeing him naked. Or it wasn’t. I don’t even like him but I can appreciate an attractive body when I see one.

He blows out a breath and shifts in his seat. “Sure. Why don’t you go and shower off the suntan lotion and meet me in my room when you’re done?”

I nod nervously and stand.

He watches me go a few steps before asking, “You sure about this? You can back out.”

“It’s all for the art,” I reply quietly and wave at him over my shoulder.

Sargent

I’m nervous. This is happening. I don’t know how it began happening but it’s happening. Though she could still back out.

I’ve never wanted to take a photograph more in my entire life.

This is groundbreaking for me. This feeling, it’s taking me back to my younger years when photography was all I could think about.

I check the tripods are functional for the fifth time and turn on my digital camera. I have one antique camera that I use and one very expensive digital camera. I like the way they both capture images. The digital is clear and crisp whereas the antique puts a natural sepia over everything.

There’s not a software in the world that can perfectly mimic an old camera like mine. It would have been state of the art once upon a time and is likely worth a fair bit these days.

There’s a gentle knock on the door. I move to it, my camera hanging around my neck.

I’m relieved to see she has washed and dried her hair, it’s floating in thick curtains of dark brown around her shoulders. There’s no makeup on her face and there’s nothing but a fluffy towel around her body which she’s holding onto for dear life.

This is insane. I can’t believe we’re doing this.

She takes in the setup, the thick, cream fur rug on the ground by the window which has an even better view of Malibu than the garden.

“Don’t be nervous,” I assure her, unsure on how to approach her.

“I’m not,” she lies and gulps audibly. “Where do you want me?”

Over my bed, on the floor, on all fours, on my face.

“On… On the rug, just there.” I point and move the tripod out of the way.

I turn away when she starts to unwrap the towel. I hear it drop on the floor and bite hard on my lip.

“Shall I lie down?”

“Please,” I reply and inhale a deep breath before looking at her.

She sits on her side first, her legs bent as she takes in the view, her back to me as the sun finally starts to set.

“Wait,” I bark when she starts to move. I take a couple of shots of her just like that. I never take so many shots. I line up the perfect ones and click. There’s something about her that has me wanting to capture every single angle of her physical soul. “Okay, lie down.”

I push my fist into my mouth to stop myself from groaning when I see it all. All of her beautiful body, every naked inch of flesh that I so badly wanted to see last night but couldn’t allow myself the pleasure.

Her round breasts are soft against her chest which rises and falls slowly. Her bare mound is slightly hidden by her leg which is raised higher than the other, a subconscious way of offering herself a little modesty.