"Don't be ridiculous."
He laughs. "I know where I rank."
"Adam—"
"I'll never compete with your camera."
"Is that what this is?" I ask.
"You didn't realize?"
"So this is kind of… a weird threesome," I say.
He nods. "Me, you, camera."
"It's a good combination."
"I know." He pulls me into a slow, deep kiss. His tongue slips into my mouth. Dances with mine.
My body melts into his.
My thoughts drift away.
There's so much I want to say to him. There's always so much I want to say to him. But this is everything.
This is bliss.
I bring my hand to his cheek. Run my thumb over his temple. The soft skin. The raised scars.
All the pieces of him.
Broken. Mended. Everything in between.
He doesn't flinch or freeze. He leans into the gesture.
Then he undoes the sash holding my robe together.
The sides fall open.
I groan as he cups my breasts.
He teases me with his thumbs. Slow circles. Feather light. So light I can barely feel them.
But fuck, how I feel them.
My eyes close.
My hips buck against his.
He's already hard.
I rock my hips against him, savoring the feel of his cock against my sex. His slacks and boxers are in the way. The soft wool of his suit is so different than his smooth skin.
But I can still feel him.
He presses his palm to the space between my shoulder blades. Pulls my chest to his mouth. Wraps his lips around my nipple.
Fuck.
He sucks softly.
Then harder.
The soft scrape of his teeth.
Then harder.
Enough it hurts.
But fuck, it hurts so good.
"Adam." I reach for him. Get his shoulder.
He tortures me with soft scrapes of his teeth. Winds me tighter with every brush. Again and again.
Until it's too much to take.
Then again.
Again.
I rock my hips against him.
My fingers brush his neck. Collarbones. Chest.
The soft skin under his shirt.
The raised scars.
He slows as I trace one. Pulls back. Looks up at me like I'm the only thing he's ever wanted.
He's not shy about his scars. Not exactly.
But he's still careful. This is a lot for him. I'm pushing him.
We push each other. That's what we do.
We trust each other enough.
"Danielle." He presses his lips to my collarbone.
I run my fingers over his chest. Not tracing his scars, but not avoiding them either.
Lower and lower. Until I have to shift back to make room.
"Stand," he whispers.
I do.
He stands with me. Takes my hand. Brings it to his collar. "Take it off."
I push his shirt off his right shoulder. Then the left.
I take my time running my fingers over his shoulders, chest, stomach. The soft skin. The ridges of muscles. The rough scars.
The raised lines of ink. The tattoo on his side. The one he got to remember his brother last year.
And the other.
The one he got with me.
A rose wrapped around a key.
To match the one on my side. A lock, sitting on a bed of petals.
He leans into my touch. His eyes close. His lips part with a groan.
But he stays patient.
Even as I undo his belt, unbutton his slacks, push them off his hips.
Then the boxers.
My robe.
I take it in for a moment. Adam and I, completely naked, in front of the camera, in his modern penthouse apartment.
Our modern penthouse apartment.
And we're about to fuck on film.
It's perfect.
I rise to my tiptoes to kiss him.
The kiss he returns is hard, hungry, completely without patience.
He pulls me onto the bed. Lays me on my back. Pushes my thighs apart.
Then he climbs on top of me.
I wrap my legs around his waist as he brings our bodies together.
His tip strains against me.
Then it's one sweet inch at a time.
Fuck.
He feels so good. Hard and warm and mine.
He feels like home. There's no other way to say it.
For a second, I savor the feel of his body against mine. The two of us, in our bed, completely without pretenses.
As intimate as anything has ever been.
I wrap my arms around him.
Then he kisses me like he's claiming me. Like he knows I'm his as much as I know he's mine.
I rock my hips to meet him.
He drives into me.
We move together, in perfect rhythm, every thrust pushing me closer and closer.
Until I'm so close I can taste it.
Then he flips me onto my stomach, slides his hand between my legs, rubs me as he drives into me again.
The tension in my sex winds tighter and tighter.
Until I'm so taut I can't take it.
With the next brush of his fingers, everything inside me releases. I groan his name as I come, my sex pulsing around his cock, pulling him closer, deeper.
It pushes him over the edge.
He scrapes his teeth against my neck as he comes, rocking into me, spilling every drop.
When he's finished, he collapses next to me, pulls my body into his, holds me like he'll never let go.
We linger there for ages. Until the camera beeps with a low battery warning.