Free Photo Play by Pam McKenna

to clear the fog of desire. “How private?” She pushed at Kon, to no avail. She might as well have been trying to budge Michelangelo’s David . “How many flyers did you distribute, Kon?”
    “God, you taste good.” His hands were everywhere, and so was his mouth. It was as if he couldn’t get enough of her. When his lips finally found hers, he was ravenous. “I forgot how goddamn good you taste.”
    “Kon, answer me!” Darla leaned back as much as she could. She grabbed a fistful of curly dark hair and yanked his head up, forcing him to look her in the eye.
    “Ow! What?”
    “How many flyers did you make for this exhibit?” she demanded, with one more sharp tug to ensure his undivided attention.
    “One. Stop that.”
    “What?”
    Kon disentangled her fingers from his hair. She stumbled back, dumbfounded.
    “You’re lying,” she said.
    “Think about it.” He rubbed his sore scalp. “Did you see a flyer before today? Did anyone you know mention an upcoming exhibit?”
    In her anger and desperation, she hadn’t considered that. “You... you made one flyer,” Darla said. “For me.”
    “Private exhibit. Like I said.”
    She looked around the room. He’d developed all these photographs. Had them framed. Bought champagne and caviar. Rented out the fucking Port Stanley Club! Cash-strapped Kon Drummond had done all this.
    For her.
    “You needed to see these pictures, Darla.” His tone turned serious. “And I needed to see you again.” He read her mind. “No, not to fuck you. Not just to fuck you,” he hastened to add.
    Darla searched his face, seeking the truth behind those brilliant blue eyes. “Then why, Kon?” She watched his chest expand on a deep inhalation.
    “I need you in my life.” He lifted his hands and let them fall. “I don’t know how else to say it.”
    She swallowed around of lump of raw emotion. “You said it just fine.”
    “I didn’t think I’d ever feel this way again.” Kon dragged his fingers through his hair. “No, that’s not right. I’ve never felt this way. Not with any of the exes. Not with anyone. I don’t know what it means yet.”
    She offered a watery smile. “Join the club.”
    Kon’s throat worked. “All I know is, the last fifty-one days have been pure hell. Not knowing if I’d ever see you again.”
    “Fifty-one days, huh?” She chewed back a grin.
    “What, you weren’t counting?”
    “Sorry, sport,” she said, “I was too busy trying to put you out of my mind so my right hand could get some rest.”
    Kon’s eyebrows looked particularly devilish just then as his teeth flashed in a wicked grin. He practically tore the navy shirt from his body. The rest of his clothing followed in short order, and she saw—surprise, surprise—that he was hard as a post. He started stripping Darla with the same feverish impatience.
    “Help me, goddammit,” he growled. “If I don’t get inside you in the next five seconds, I’m going to lose my fucking mind.”
    She laughed, kicking off her flats as he hauled her jeans and thong to her ankles. Erotic anticipation gathered deep and low. She felt she might come at the merest touch. He took advantage of his crouched position to tip her over his shoulder and carry her like a sack of flour to the nearest leather club chair.
    “This view looks familiar,” she told the small of his back. “I can walk, you know.”
    “Stick with what works—that’s my motto.”
    “What, no rope?” she complained as he threw her facedown over the back of the big chair, her ass elevated. “Where are my nipple clamps?”
    “Demanding wench.” He landed a sharp slap to one round butt cheek. She yelped and felt the burn spread outward, settling like fire in her hungry pussy. He spanked her two-handed, varying the placement and pacing of the blows, at one point shoving her knees wide to get at the tender flesh of her inner thighs.
    Darla’s cries were half shriek, half sensual moan. “Please...” she begged, “I need