Practicing

The shutter clicks in a steady rhythm, each snap punctuating the warm glow of the softbox light. She stays on her knees against the headboard, the white thong a thin line against her hips, the pink tube top stretched tight across her chest. Her bare thighs press together, then part slightly at Marcus's murmured direction, and she follows it without thinking.

The camera lowers. Marcus studies the screen for a moment, thumb scrolling, then looks up at her with that same unreadable calm. "These are good. You look like you know exactly what you're doing."

Her breath is shallow, her skin warm under the light. She runs a hand down her chest, fingers brushing the hem of the tube top where it rides high. "Joe's going to see these and think I've been practicing."

"Let him think that." Marcus lifts the camera again, adjusting the focus. "Arch your back a little more. Let the thong ride up."

She complies, her spine curving as she lifts her hips off the mattress, the white fabric pressing against her. The cool air brushes the exposed curve of her ass, and she feels the familiar pulse of heat between her thighs. She holds the pose, her lips parting as she looks at the lens, her eyes half-lidded.

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