Inches away

Izzy hears nothing. No shutter click, no movement, no voice. The silence stretches just long enough to feel wrong. She lifts her head from the floor, her hair falling back from her face as she pushes herself up onto her knees and turns.

Marcus is right there. Not crouched behind the lens, not standing at a distance. He is completely naked, his boxers discarded somewhere out of sight, and his cock is inches from her face. It's heavy and thick, flushed dark, the same size she saw in the video, and she can feel the warmth radiating from it as her breath catches.

She freezes. Her lips part, but no sound comes out. Her eyes stay locked on it for a long, unbroken moment, her pulse hammering low in her throat. She can feel the heat pooling between her own thighs as she kneels there, the floor cool against her bare knees, the softbox light casting long shadows across both of them.

Her hands rest on her thighs. She doesn't reach out. She doesn't pull back. She just tilts her chin up, meeting his gaze from where she kneels, her voice coming out low and breathless.

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