A Writer's Harem: A Feast For The Senses (A Writer's Asian Harem Book 3) by Tyme O. L

Author:Tyme, O. L.
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2024-10-11T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seven

She was on his mind for the rest of the day, almost driving him to distraction. But lucky for him, the next part of the novel revolved around Dai, Ava, and Jacob’s photoshoot. Ostensibly for a series of headshots for Ava’s “normie” portfolio and the dustjacket of Jacob’s prospective next novel, it had quickly turned into something quite different as Ava, the avant-garde photographic artist, took control, instructing both Dai and Jacob, bending them into various poses, positions, and acts, for maximum authenticity.

Whether it was Dai on her knees with his cock in her mouth, or Jacob with his face buried between his neighbour’s legs, licking at her wet pussy as she pulled his hair, Ava walked around with seeming indifference, her only desire, the perfect shot.

The camera clicked and flashed, capturing every moment of their debauchery, elevating what could be dismissed as simple voyeurism into high art. Even as Jacob finished on Dai’s waiting face, Ava never lost focus of the work, capturing every droplet landing of his plentiful bounty as it splashed across her colleague’s beautiful features, with elegance and precision.

Jack sighed heavily as he pushed himself back from the desk, his cock throbbing, the tip wet with precum, wishing Eve was there right now, wishing he didn’t have to wait to see her.

He only had to wait until the day after tomorrow, but as he looked out of the window at the millions of lives going on without him, at the millions of people getting on with things whilst he sat there alone, he felt time stretching out endlessly, like an impassable void he would never traverse.

If only there was something he could do to make the wait less intolerable, less inexorable, something to sweep him up in a whirl of excitement and pleasure, something to pass the time until the moment they met again.

“Fuck!”

Jack jumped out of his chair, his erection barely missing the underside of the desk as it swung wildly, as if suddenly awoken from its slumber.

He grabbed his phone from the kitchen counter (always kept far away when writing, the best way to ensure he focused on the work), then dropped it back down and rushed to the bathroom, skidding suddenly as he rushed back the other way to gather up his clothes, then back towards the bathroom, dumping them in the basket as he waited for the shower to warm up.

As he stood there, hand intermittently breaking the spray of water as he tested the temperature, he wondered why he had been so eager to pick up his clothes. It was, after all, his apartment and he could leave it in any state he felt fit.

But, he realised, he had felt it would be disrespectful to Belle to leave the apartment in a mess. Not that he expected her to pick up his clothes, or for that matter, even be there that evening, but he felt a need to keep things tidy as a sign of respect for the work she did.

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