Turn around

The shutter is still clicking when Marcus lowers the camera for a moment. The silence in the room is heavy, charged with the heat still clinging to her skin. She watches him through half-lidded eyes, her chest rising and falling with shallow breaths.

"Turn around," Marcus says. "Face the bed. Kneel up and bend over again. I need to see that pussy from behind."

Izzy’s heart gives a hard, heavy thump against her ribs. She doesn't speak. She doesn't hesitate. She pushes herself up, turning onto her knees, and settles her weight back. The pink tube top has ridden high, exposing the undersides of her breasts, but she doesn't fix it.

She bends forward, her torso lowering until her chest presses against the mattress, her bare ass lifting into the air behind her. Her knees spread wider, instinctively, without being told.

The cool air of the room brushes against her exposed mound, still slick and glistening from the wetness that had soaked through her thong. She feels completely open, completely displayed, her bare pussy presented to the lens and to his gaze.

She hears the soft click of the autofocus before the shutter begins its steady rhythm. She stays still, her cheek pressed into the sheets, her fingers curling into the fabric near her head. The pose feels different from before — lower, more deliberate, her hips tilted up in a way that leaves nothing to the imagination.

"You can see everything," she says, her voice muffled slightly by the mattress, breathless but steady. "That's what you wanted, right?"

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