Free Red Handed by Shelly Bell Page A

corset. She licked her fingers, getting them nice and wet, then traced circles around her nipple.
    In her mind, she saw Cole mirroring her actions, drawing his own thick fingers into his mouth and bringing the moisture to his cock, where he’d use the lubrication to bring himself off to the sight of her.
    She dipped her hand below her panties and spread her labia apart with her fingers. Not surprisingly, she was already slippery from her arousal. She pinched her nipple and at the same time did what she’d been dying to do all night—slide two of her fingers inside her slick channel.
    Keeping her eyes on the camera, she pumped her fingers in and out, pressing and rubbing her thumb against her clitoris. It wasn’t close to what she wanted, but it was more than she needed.
    What was Cole doing now? Was he slowing his motions, squeezing off the head of his cock, waiting to come with her? Or did the sight of her getting herself off prove too much and had he already spilled into his hand?
    Her muscles tightened, and a storm gathered low in her belly. She thrust her fingers in as far as they could go and twisted as the pad of her thumb circled her clitoris. She hovered on the edge for a moment and then fell blissfully into the throes of climax, her pussy squeezing her fingers and her clitoris throbbing.
    She lay there as the storm grew quiet, and her body melted into the couch cushions. With her eyes on the camera, she removed her hand from her panties and sucked her fingers into her mouth, one by one.
    If he hadn’t come by now, that should probably do it for him.
    Ready for sleep, she stood from the couch and tucked her breast back into the corset. Then she barreled out of the locker room.
    And straight into Cole.
    â€œFinish cleaning so soon?” He panted, as if he’d been running.
    She couldn’t help but feel victorious. “Yes, Cole. I mean, Master.”
    He leaned to whisper in her ear. “I can smell you, you know.”
    â€œSmell me?”
    â€œI can smell your pussy.”
    She gasped. “That’s not possible.”
    â€œWhen it comes to me,” he said, moving close enough she could feel his erection against her stomach, “anything is possible. What drove you to lie down on the couch and expose yourself to me? Anger because I punished you for breaking the rules? Or were you too turned on by the club to wait until you got to the privacy of your bedroom?”
    All the confidence she’d felt earlier disappeared out the window, leaving only shame. “I just . . . ”
    â€œYou knew I’d be watching.”
    She nodded, keeping her gaze lowered. “Yes.”
    â€œIs that what turns you on?” With two of his fingers under her chin, he tipped up her face. “To be watched?”
    Would she have been as aroused without the camera? She’d masturbated plenty of times, but never had it felt like that. “Yes.”
    â€œExhibitionism is nothing to be ashamed of, Danielle. Plenty of us find it sexy as hell.” He motioned to the frames on the maroon wall. “What do you think of the photographs?”
    She moved closer to study them. They were black and white photographs of naked men and women. Bound by rope. Tied by sashes to a bed. Chained to a wall. Each photo contained a single object in color. The ropes were yellow. The sashes red. Purple floggers. Pink rose petals.
    They simply took her breath away with their passion and eroticism. “They’re beautiful.”
    Dimples appeared in his cheeks, and his eyes twinkled. “Thank you.”
    Something in his expression spoke to her. It was pride. “They’re yours? I mean, you’re the photographer?”
    â€œYes,” he said, nodding. He paused, staring at her intently. “I’d like to photograph you.”
    â€œMe?” Her stomach plummeted. He couldn’t be serious. “I’m not model material.”
    â€œWhy not?”
    â€œLook at