Captured for Love by Goode Ella

Author:Goode, Ella
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Published: 2020-10-08T16:00:00+00:00

Eleven

Jay

I try not to stare too hard at Dove’s body because my momma drilled into me that you respect women by looking them in the eye when you’re talking to them. I do a fair job of that, but when you’re not talking, and a goddess is sleeping on your bed, what then? What are the rules for that kind of encounter? And when she creeps closer to you in her sleep until her warm body is curled next to yours, do you slip your arm around her or do you lie still, sweat beading across your forehead while a hard-on rages below the waist?

I finally get out of bed and take a break in the bathroom. The cold water does a lot for my sweat and almost nothing for my erection. She’s just so fucking perfect from her peach-shaped tits to her round ass and curvy hips. Then there’s her legs—long and strong and the perfect necklace. Like I should be wearing her thighs around my head like they’re earrings. I slam the heel of my palm against my temple and try to knock some lust out and some sense in.

What I’d really like to do is get my camera and photograph her. The monorail view one on the tripod with a wide-angle bellows and a film back for black and white old school photos. I’d take off the navy comforter and lay her nude on the white sheets. The drapes would be closed, and the only light would be from a key light directed on different spots on her body. I’d start with her face and focus on the cheek, eyes, mouth, nose. I’d move on to her ear, covering parts of it with strands of hair. Next, I’d sweep the sheets down, inch by slow inch, revealing and exposing as I went along, creating a virtual strip tease to be revisited time and again. I’d place her hand on her breast, her fingers closed around a taut nipple. I’d have her roll that pert bud and squeeze tight until the whites showed on the end of her fingers.

Her legs would swish against the sheets, and while a still image can’t capture the sound, it can capture the restlessness, the tension. It would show in the flex of her calf muscles, the pointing of her toes. It would be etched in her cheekbones as the skin pulls taut across her features. I’d capture her hand as it moved from her chest to her pussy. The light would follow. Her knuckles would point upward as she delved between her legs. Shadows would be cast by her thighs as her fingers disappeared. The light would catch on the moisture as she withdrew them, sparkling like gems just mined from the most hidden of caves. My camera would make love to her as she pleasured herself. The image would blur as her hand moved faster, as her fingers jacked in and out of her pussy, as the sounds of the wet suck of her sex echoed in the quiet night.

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