Ruthlessly His Read Free Page A

me.
    I laugh. “Never. I didn’t even get offers, so you’ve got one up on me.”
    He looks me up and down and says, “Huh.”
    After a few more shots I walk right up to him and undo another a button. “Live a little,” I say. He doesn’t stop me, so I undo another one. He smiles at me and tilts his head, daring me to undo more. My fingers tremble. Under his shirt, his stomach feels muscular and hard. I undo every last button and step back. His chest and stomach are on show now. He doesn’t say a word, and his face gives nothing away. I bring the camera up but I can’t shoot. I’m too nervous.
    “Do it,” he hisses. So I take some shots. He’s more alive now; he’s even moving his body when I pause. His muscles ripple as he adjusts. He moves with purpose. He takes off his shirt and damn if his athletic body isn’t thick, like a ripped power lifter. I keep taking pictures. I don’t know how long I’ve been hard for but he must have noticed.
    My cock is straining in these jeans.
    I take pictures of his body close up then I tug on his belt, daring him. “Be careful,” he says. “I know you like teasing but can you deal with the consequences?” He looks at me like I’m a piece of meat. “I’m gonna shower,” he says. “You sticking around?”
    Colt starts taking his slacks off. He wears gray Calvin Klein boxers. He’s not hard, but there’s blood flowing down there alright—either that or he has the largest cock I’ve ever seen. I still haven’t put my camera down, and I take a shot. “Hey,” he says, and glares at me.
    “I couldn’t resist,” I say. Colt just stands there, daring me to take another.
    I shoot more and put it on autofocus because I’m too excited to adjust the manual lens. I want to capture all of this. Colt turns around to show me his back. I guess what they say about squats is true—his ass is large, juicy. His back is defined and V-shaped. The under floor heating is starting to make me sweat. That and this giant slab of muscle in front of me.
    His eyes are all over me. I’m still taking shots, but it’s from muscle memory, I’m so anxious I’m floating above myself. “Leo,” he says. “You’ve become a welcome distraction.” He walks over to me, puts his hands on my trembling camera and takes it from me.
    “What are you doing?” I ask. I don’t know how to stand in front of him or where to put my hands. I shuffle from foot to foot.
    “How does this work?” he asks.
    “You just look through the lens and click the—yeah—the button,” I say. He takes a picture of the floor by accident, then aims it at me. I give a nervous smile. Click, click. “Hey,” I say and grab the camera back. “I’m the photographer here.” He lets me take it, the keyword being let’s. Because there’s no question, this man is more physically powerful out of the two of us.
    And yet, I don’t feel threatened by him.
    More like protected. But if he ends up fucking me, and that seems where this flirting is going, this could be the hardest fuck of my life. I mean, hey, I work out, but Colt is something else.
    “Boxers off,” I say. He pauses and sticks his thumb into the waistband. A door opens and shuts downstairs, and a woman calls up the stairs.
    “Colt? You in?” she says. Colt looks at me and points into the shower.
    “Hide,” he whispers. He yells back to the woman downstairs, “What is it, Nancy?”
    “Can you come down here?” she strains. Colt leaves me hiding in the shower. I can’t believe this is what it’s come to. I came here for a family shoot. Should I just run for it and not turn back? I decide to wait a while. I stick my head out of the shower to listen. I hear some yelling and a crash. “You fucking dick!” Nancy yells. “Why are you shirtless? I’ll break every one of these goddamn plates. Who the hell is in this house?” She must have seen my bags.
    “A photographer came over for some portfolio shots. Look, look at all this stuff, lenses and