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His flat assertion needles me, and makes me question myself. Is he right? Did I want him without knowing it? What were the implications of that? Were my thoughts not to be trusted?
Sash switches off the viewer and claps her hands, dispelling the tension. ‘So. Lloyd. You had some ideas for this section of the shoot, I believe.’
‘Yeah. Soph, come over here.’
He sounds conciliatory, a little exasperated. He sits on the sofa and pats the space beside him. I wonder if he wants me to fail or succeed. Which would be the better outcome for him?
I sit next to him, but not on the side he indicates. Instead, his discarded jacket lies between us, a no-man’s-land of light-grey pure wool.
‘What are you going to make me do?’
‘Oh goodness, I only photograph consenting subjects!’ exclaims Sasha. ‘There’s no forcing involved.’
Lloyd turns so his face isn’t visible to her and mouths the word ‘Fail’ with a raise of his eyebrows. I have to save this if I want to pass the test.
‘It’s OK,’ I say. ‘Lloyd and I … we have this sparring kind of relationship. It’s just our idea of fun.’
‘I see,’ says Sash, but I doubt she really does.
‘We like to push each other’s boundaries,’ he adds. ‘Challenge each other. That’s what this is all about, really.’
‘A challenge?’
‘Exploring limits,’ he says. ‘Isn’t it, Soph?’
‘Something like that.’
‘So, I told Sasha we could do some action shots.’
‘By action you mean …?’
‘Sex.’
‘Porn?’
‘No!’ trills Sasha. ‘I don’t do porn. I do erotic and boudoir. These will be sensual, non-explicit shots of your faces and upper bodies during the act of love.’
I nearly vomit. The act of love. With his customary presence of mind, Lloyd speaks hastily over my incipient snort.
‘Of course, we understand that. Sophie’s being cheeky.’ He gives my wrist a little tap. ‘Bad Sophie.’
The bastard has me hot again. Fuck him. How dare he?
I move a little closer to him, rumpling the jacket. He reaches an arm behind me, pressing a fingertip to the nape of my neck, a small but devastating connection. I start to believe that I can do this. My breathing deepens.
‘So, I can fold out the couch for you to use,’ suggests Sash. ‘Or I can put cushions on the floor, or in the cupboard I have a sex chair, even a swing …’
‘A swing! Ooh, exciting! Can I see?’
‘I was going to say I don’t really recommend the swing. I have to be seriously on top of my game to get good shots from it. It’s just so … swingy.’
‘Well, the sex chair then? Lloyd?’
‘Yeah, sex chair sounds interesting.’
‘OK, I’ll get it out. Can I get you two a drink while I set it up?’
‘No,’ says Lloyd. ‘We’ll just get warmed up.’
And, without warning, he tilts my head and swoops down to claim my lips. God knows what happens to his jacket, but we crush it between us, too caught up in arms and legs to care about its pristine creaselessness.
‘So,’ he questions me, between thrusts of tongue, ‘did you come just now? For the camera?’
‘Shut up. You know I did.’
‘I wondered if you would.’ Tongue goes back in, tongue draws back out. ‘But you’re so flushed. I love it when you’re flushed.’ More kissing. ‘I can’t wait to see the pictures.’
‘Who says I’ll show them to you?’
‘Oh, they’ll come to me first. I’m paying for them.’ His leg wedges itself over mine, trapping me underneath it.
‘I hate to think how much they’ll cost.’
‘Hmm, well, yeah, so do I.’ He kisses me again, the longest, dirtiest snog so far. ‘But I’m thinking of it as an investment.’
‘Oh my!’ Sash interrupts us from the centre of the floor. ‘Please come and do that for my camera. You have such chemistry.’
I cast a bleary look over to the chair she has assembled. It’s not what I imagined. For some reason I thought it would be a dungeon fixture with cuffs and stuff – in fact, it is a simple padded S-shape in expensive-looking zebra print leather. It’s almost more a bed than a chair, good and wide and full of possibilities.
‘So this is a sex chair?’ Lloyd rises to his feet, freeing me from my limb bondage.
‘There are various designs,’ says Sash.
‘I know. I haven’t seen this type before though. It looks so comfortable.’
She laughs, patting the padded upholstery. ‘It is. Come and see for yourself.’
She flits back to her camera, preparing for the highlight of the set. ‘So then, Lloyd. Time for your striptease. Now, you’re a male model, you need to bust out the moves.’
He mock-snarls at me and does that whip-cracking belt buckle thing that makes my knees weak. It lands on the floor in a curl of shiny leather, reminding me of all the times I’ve been struck with it.
Once the socks and tie are disposed of, he deals with the trousers, stepping out of them elegantly, then removing his pants so that he stands in only his long white work shirt, open at the collar, linked at the cuffs.
The inevitable fiddling with cuff links leads to the moment of revelation – the slow unbuttoning of the shirt, opening up on to a pale freckled chest, a stomach flatter than it used to be (must be all the sex) and then finally powerful thighs framing a cock in full-blooded erection.
It astonishes me that I used be indifferent to Lloyd. As he shrugs the shirt over his shoulders, I want nothing more than to pull him on top of me and shag him into the fifth dimension. It’s not about his looks. It’s about the looks he gives me. Nothing sends an arrow of devastating lust straight to my sex as fast as one crinkle of a Lloyd eye, one curl of a Lloyd lip.
The familiar alarms ring and buzz in my body. A man stands before me and he means to have me and there ain’t nothin’ I can do about it.
He waves a hand at the chair. ‘Shall we?’
I bend over it. ‘How do we do this? What’s the best way?’
He sits himself in the shallow bend of the S and clasps his hands together behind his head, letting his legs rise up and then drop down over the seductive leather curves.
‘This feels good to me,’ he says. ‘Hop on.’
His lazy, entitled posturing inflames me, as he knows it will. I leap on and straddle him, giving the side of his head a playful slap.
‘So very fucking romantic, aren’t you?’ I chide. ‘Hop on. Charming.’
‘Sorry, should I have invited you to step aboard the lurve ride?’
I kick my legs, which dangle either side of the chair, causing me to jolt and rock a little on his pelvis. He yelps and grabs my hips, stilling me.
‘Play nicely now. Best behaviour for the lady.’
The tips of our noses touch. I pretend to bite him, snapping my teeth together. He forces a kiss, which I pretend to struggle against, enjoying as ever the combative nature of our relationship.
I emerge from the kiss panting and grinding my hips, violent joy coursing through my blood.
‘Are you going to behave yourself?’ he whispers. ‘Hmm?’ He gives my bottom a light smack.
‘Never,’ I reply.
His smile is broad and white. ‘Say cheese.’
‘I’ll give you cheese.’
‘Thanks. Got any crackers?’
‘You’re bloody crackers.’
He catches me again, lips on lips, his hand cupping my bottom, pulling me towards him. His cock butts my thigh. I reach down for it, curling fingers around its fat width. Soon it will be inside me. Do I have to wait long? I move it so that its tip sits between my labia, up and down, gathering juice, round and round my engorging clit.
He grabs my wrist and lifts my hand off his cock. ‘Not so fast,’ he whispers. ‘Let’s take our time. Let’s build up slowly.’
‘But you’re already …’
‘I know. I don’t care. Nice and slow. No rush.’ He buries his face in my neck and kisses hard. I hold on to the back of his head, run a hand down his shoulder blades, feeling the muscles flex and move under the skin. His hands toy with my breasts, circling my nipples with practised fingers. His hard cock eases up and down my thigh. I try to crouch on to it, but he holds me above it, keeping me in a state of suspended readiness.
Flashes of light behind my eyes remind me that there is photography going on, but I am away from that world now, deep inside my other self.
‘You’re gorgeous, Sophie, you’re so fucking gorgeous. You make me want you all the time. Oh God.’
He takes a long time licking one nipple then the other. I gyrate my pelvis, my mouth wide open, eyes glazed, loving the feel of his arms propping me up. One of his hands strays down my side, over the bump of my hip, then it flashes across a thigh and finds the target.
He releases my nipple from his mouth.
‘You’re wet,’ he says.
‘You’re Captain fucking Obvious,’ I hiss into his ear.
‘Any more of your lip and I won’t fuck you. How about that?’
‘Don’t you dare.’
‘I know you wouldn’t like that. Because you really are so … very … wet.’ He dabbles his fingers in the juices then pushes them into my mouth, making me taste myself. ‘There’s a lot more where that came from. Why are you so wet, Sophie?’
He removes his fingers, allowing me to speak.
‘Want it,’ I say, jerking my pelvis forwards, bending his cock to my will.
‘Want what?’
‘Your cock.’
‘Where?’
‘In here.’ I catch him in my slit. If only it could snap shut like a Venus flytrap, keep him there to devour at my leisure. I rock back and forth, rubbing his tip, preparing to push down on it.
‘How much do you want it?’
‘So much, so much.’
‘What would you do for it?’
‘Anything.’
‘I’ll get that in writing.’
‘Just put it in, for fuck’s sake. Just fuck me. Now.’
He kisses me, chuckling into my mouth, dark and low. ‘If you insist. Act of Love commencing in three … two … one …’
He cups the undermost innermost part of my buttocks and pulls them wide, opening me up to him, then slides in slowly. I try to pack him all in at once, greedy for his stretching, spreading girth, but he holds me in check, making sure I feel each maddening inch as it glides past my barriers.
The sex chair’s great advantage is the way it aligns Lloyd’s pelvic bone with my clitoris. All I have to do is circle my hips with minimal effort and I can have all the multiple orgasms I want. I narrow my eyes and grin at Lloyd, who seems to have clocked on to my evil plan.
‘Oh no you don’t,’ he murmurs, lifting my hips and urging me forwards, making me thrust. Better still, the two sensations combine, working my pussy into a fomentation of colliding pleasures.
‘Ohh,’ I sigh, almost overwhelmed. ‘This is good. Really good. Let’s get one.’
Lloyd has gone to a realm beyond speech, at last, and I work on the perfect rhythm, ending each forward thrust with a little circular rub of my clit against him, building myself up so sweetly.
Even better, I realise that a very slight adjustment of my feet so that they rise a little from the floor nudges Lloyd’s cock right up to my G-spot. I anchor myself to his shoulders and push, push, push, three fast strokes bringing me to an orgasm that starts in my toes and engulfs my whole body like wildfire.
‘Oh yes.’ He finds his voice to mutter into my hair. ‘That’s what you need, darling, lots of that, more of that, yeah.’