A Kink in Her Tails (17 page)

Brian tilted his head to one side, watching the animated woman in front of him.

“So I mentioned to her that you’d be a great date for her that afternoon. That is if you’re not currently…um…if you’re free, so to speak…” Eve’s color crept up her cheeks as she realized she was, in fact, being horribly pushy.

“She doesn’t have a date?” Brian kept his voice level as he asked the question, although how, when his heart was jack hammering the back of his Adam’s apple, he had no idea.

“Adele? Nah. Hasn’t dated in ages. And I hate for her to come stag, it’s so depressing. Having done it myself way too often, I really do understand.”

Eve smiled then, and Brian couldn’t help grinning back. This was one charming lady, and Brian figured Simon had to be responsible for that gleam in her eye. “Let me see what I can do, Eve. No promises, but thanks for cluing me in.”

“Happy to, Brian. Simon and I will be really tickled if you can pull it off. Don’t mention this…” She waved her hands as the doors pinged open to her floor.

Brian pantomimed zipping his lips shut.

Eve winked and slipped off the elevator, which resumed its journey upwards.

Hmmm. No date. Not for ages. Well, well. Wasn’t that interesting? Brian’s lips curved and his mind zinged with possibilities. His cock liked every single one of them, and
this
time he got his wish.

He arrived at Adele Martin’s front door without a semi-erect cock.

It was fully erect and raring to go.

“The Caribbean?” Brian’s gorgeous eyes widened at Adele across the small kitchen table as they sat and enjoyed their usual pre-shoot conversation.

He toyed with his bottle of spring water, and Adele knocked back her third soda of the day like there was going to be a worldwide shortage announced any minute.

“Yeah, the Caribbean.” Adele waved her hand gloomily at the stuff spread out before them.

It had become a habit for them to sit and look over the day’s props, discussing the best way to present them, any requirements from the manufacturer or ad agency that was funding the shoot. Brian had clearly learned a lot about the artistic end of photography, and Adele knew that he continually put it to good use, making her job a hell of a lot easier.

For her part, she’d recognized Brian’s innate ability to pick out one or two unusual items and use them in a different way, and she was always ready to listen to his ideas and suggestions.

Except today.

“So,
you
do it instead.”

“What?” Adele blinked.

“You do the shoot instead of Jan.”

“Excuse me?”

Brian sighed. “You have a remote, a timer and limitless rolls of film. It is Thursday afternoon, and your deadline is less than forty-eight hours away. Correct so far?” Adele nodded.

“These items are couples-oriented, so you need two people on the cover. Yes?” Adele nodded again.

“So. Do the math. There are two people here. One is male, one is female. Both are relatively attractive.

Both can wear this junk and are familiar with the process of shooting the photos. What’s not to understand?”

Adele was stunned speechless.

Her mind blanked out, dropped into a galactic vortex of confusion, from whence one overriding thought emerged microseconds later—get almost naked with Brian?
Oh God yes
!

“I couldn’t possibly.” And that couldn’t possibly be her voice. A teenage boy with serious puberty problems would have sounded better. The squeaky break that robbed her words of their determined nature brought a grin to Brian’s mouth. Brian’s devastatingly sexy mouth. The one that Adele would pay zillions to have pressed all over her body.

Her hormones began a small line dance.

“Sure you could.”

“Brian, I’m not Jan. She’s young, stacked, very attractive and sexy. Oh, did I mention young?” Brian grinned again and picked up the small thong that featured a little tuxedo bow tie.

“Adele, you’d look fabulous in this.”

The line dance picked up speed and added a quick dip.

“And this…” Brian added the barely visible black demi bra with the mock white shirtfront.

The line dance was really getting into the swing of things.

Adele turned down her inner music and ignored the frustrated boos of her hormonal chorus line.

“Brian, you’re sweet to say so, but I couldn’t—”

“Why the hell not? It’s not as if we have too many options here, Adele. You want to call these people…uh…” He picked up the literature that came with the products and scanned it for the manufacturer’s name. “Here we are, you want to call Bun Bunnies Inc. and tell them that Adele Martin failed to make the shoot?”

Adele’s mouth snapped shut. He’d got her there. She’d never, ever, missed a deadline for a shoot.

Blizzards, jammed cameras, broken hearts, just about every disaster you could name, Adele had survived and turned in her photos on time.

“You know anyone else who’s free within the next hour? I sure don’t…” Brian was hammering valid points at her from across the table and she shut her eyes against the brilliant blue of his gaze.

“Brian,” she interrupted, holding up a hand. “I can’t. I’m…I’m not…”

“Not what? A busty blonde? No. You’re not.”

Adele stood nervously and took her half empty can of soda to the sink. She carefully emptied it out, rinsed it, and tossed it into the recycling bin. She then went to the fridge and took out another can of soda.

Brian chuckled. “What was wrong with that one?” He nodded at the bin.

“Huh?” Adele had no clue what he was talking about and was surprised to find herself with a fresh can of soda in her hand. And a growing need to pee.

“Look. Brian. Bottom line.” Adele leaned against the counter and took a breath. “I am not the glamorous sex kitten that the sponsor is going to expect to see on the package of his sex toys. I am…um…” She found the words stuck in her throat.

“You are a very sexy, vibrant, real-life woman, who could sell flip-flops to Eskimos if she put her mind to it.” Brian grinned over his water bottle at her.

“What?” Adele restrained the impulse to slap her ears and make sure they were working. Brian thought she was
sexy
?

“You heard me. You have hair that makes a man want to wrap himself in it and get lost for days. Your legs go on for miles, your skin is always glowing, and your mouth, well, the less said about that the better.

It probably should come with a government warning.”

Adele’s mouth gaped. The one that didn’t have the government warning.

“What the…the
fuck
are you talking about?”

“C’mere, babe,” said Brian, standing up and grabbing Adele’s wrist.

He led her into her small studio and stood her in front of the mirrored wall that she used to check various angles of her compositions or as a light reflector for some of her more avant-garde shots.

He made her turn and face the mirror, removing the soda from her hand and standing behind her.

“Now. I want you to forget who we’re looking at. You are using your photographer’s eyes right now.

Kinda like using your listening ears at nursery school.”

Nursery school.
Bad
analogy. Children. Youngsters. Youth. Brian. Young. Not possible.

He sure didn’t feel like a third grader, however, as he stood oh-so-close behind her.

“First, the height. See how nice and tall you are? Just grazing my ear here. We’re well matched height wise, you have to admit.”

Adele did her level best to follow his instructions, noting that the top of her head did indeed touch his ear.

Especially if she tilted it, just
so
…

“Now, the hair.” Brian slipped his fingers up and unclipped her large barrette, which she customarily threw in every morning to hold it out of the way.

Long tresses of dark brown hair tumbled every which way over Brian’s hands. Was it her, or did he just lift a handful to his nose and inhale? Nah. Must have been her imagination indulging in a bit of wishful thinking.

“See? Now
that’s
sexy. Nothing like long hair to get a man’s motor running.”

“Really?” God. Was that her voice? That wimpy, breathy little whisper? Kittens meowed louder than that. She coughed.

“Look, Brian…”

“Wait, there’s more. Photographer’s eyes, remember?” Brian gently tugged on a handful of hair that he just happened to be holding. For a long time actually.

Adele nodded.

“Now. The body.”

Adele shut her eyes and opened her mouth to begin her litany of her faults. She was not a fool. She knew her shortcomings, and there were plenty of them. Well, two major ones. Or minor ones, depending on how you looked at it.

Brian was slipping her loose sweater off one shoulder and sliding her bra strap down with it.

“Sex isn’t just breasts, Adele,” he said, breathing on her bare skin and making every hair on her body stand up.

“It’s not?”

“Uh uh. Definitely not. It’s in a promise of something special. A hint, a look, a suggestion…you know all this. You photograph it…” He slid her sweater down even further. Adele loved floppy sweaters, and now she knew why. She tried to remind herself to go buy twelve more, but then Brian pushed her hair away from her neck exposing the line of her muscle. She promptly forgot her name, let alone her shopping list.

“Sex is this little bit of skin right here…” He touched her pulse that was pounding out an energetic rhythm of its own.

“And here…” He brushed her shoulder and pulled her hair completely back, away from her ear, her neck, everything. He tossed it over her other shoulder.

“Now. The legs…hmmm.” He pondered for a moment then slipped his hands up beneath her tunic.

“Brian, what…”

“Bear with me, Adele. Trust me here, honey. We’re working for your photos, remember?” Good thing he’d reminded her, thought Adele. She’d just caught a glimpse of a piece of chest she’d like to gnaw on for about a week.

Gently, Brian eased Adele’s leggings down.

She gasped as his hands brushed her buttocks, and wasn’t sure whether she was pleased or sorry that she was a thong wearer. Something brushed them again. Something damp and wet. Like maybe a tongue? No. Couldn’t be. And yet…what if…she closed her eyes. Bless the saints, she’d build a shrine to St. Buttfloss. Offerings on a daily basis after this.

“Now,” breathed Brian, sounding a little out of breath. He’d pulled her leggings away and lowered her tunic back down. “Just one more thing…” His gaze roved around and then lit up. He moved away and returned within seconds bearing a pair of spiked mules.

“Dear God,” breathed Adele, as he touched her bare foot and helped her struggle up onto the slutty shoes.

“Oh yeah,” he said, straightening up beside her. “Better?” She nodded, not trusting her voice at this point.

“Now
them’s
what I call legs, lady. The original stairway to heaven.” His grin was pure sex and Adele was so damn hot, she felt she was about to explode. “Look, Adele. See what you can do when you put your mind to it?”

Adele looked.

They were almost of a height thanks to the shoes, and their dark hair mingled together in a soft mass.

Brian’s blue eyes gazed brilliantly from his flushed face as he lowered his lips to her shoulder and glanced up under his eyebrows at the mirror. Without thinking, she tilted her head away from him, allowing more of her neck to present itself to his mouth.

“Wait…we need one more thing, I think…” he muttered.

Quick as lightning, he pulled his shirt off.

Adele’s breath left her lungs in a whoosh. She knew Brian’s chest intimately, having studied it at length through her lens, and her glass. But studying it in two dimensions and having it pressed against her in three were quite different things.

“Breathe, Adele,” encouraged Brian.

She’d forgotten how.

* * * * *

Brian’s body had never felt as alive as it did right at this moment.

He’d had his share of women, in fact some said that with his looks he had his share and some other people’s share as well.

He’d known cataclysmic orgasms in just about every position he could think of. He’d been straight and kinky, vanilla and non-vanilla. He’d had a go at most everything within a physical relationship at one time or another.

But nothing—
nothing
—compared to the feeling he had right at this moment.

Adele was pressed against him from shoulder to shin. Her bare skin was millimeters from his lips, just begging for a touch. His mind was swimming in her special scent, a kind of musky warmth that radiated from every pore on her body. His hands had felt the softness of her buttocks as he’d slid her leggings down.

God, her butt. Firm, round, well shaped, her backside was all woman, the perfect cushion for some of his loving pushing. He’d given in to a strange impulse and lightly run his tongue over her cheek. She’d tasted sweet and tangy and like the finest wines. She’d gone straight to his head, and he couldn’t begin to imagine what it would be like to thrust his face deep into her pussy and taste her honey as she released her juices for him.

He wanted to bury his mouth between her legs, breathe in her essence, suck her clit until she screamed for mercy, and then do it all over again. Several times. Many times, actually.

A shudder ran through her body, echoing the one that was running madly around his groin. His black jeans were tight, and he was straining the fabric to within millimeters of its tolerance, not to mention savagely crushing his balls.

“See how sexy you look, love,” he breathed, sternly gathering control of himself while encouraging her to lose hers. There was a symmetry to the situation which doubtless he’d appreciate. Some other time.

Her brown eyes were luminous, glowing at the picture they made. Her soft pink sweater had slithered down one side, exposing her even pinker flesh and her shoulder.

Her legs were bare and long, soft and womanly, yet with a well-defined set of muscles that screamed walker or possibly jogger.