The Photographer’s Private Shoot - Chapter 3: Chapter 3

His fingertip traced a whisper-light path across my skin. The instant he added the barest pressure, my entire body broke out in a sheen of sweat.
I tried to squirm away, but Adrian's large hand pinned my shoulder down, forcing me to meet his smoldering gaze while his other hand continued its relentless exploration.
At first, his touch was barely there—just teasing, featherlight strokes. Then, without warning, he pressed down firmly, his dark eyes locking onto mine, unblinking.
A violent shudder wracked through me.
I trembled under his unwavering stare, my breath hitching.
Adrian intensified his movements, his fingers working faster now, more deliberate.
I could barely keep up.
A flash of white exploded behind my eyelids—I was already teetering on the edge.
He adjusted the camera with practiced ease, angling it toward me, his expression deceptively casual.
My body was no longer my own.
The fabric between my legs was soaked through.
After snapping a few shots, Adrian's gaze lingered, heavy and assessing.
Then his voice, low and rough, cut through the silence. "Sophia, we'll be taking close-ups of your lower half now."
I stammered, barely above a whisper. "C-can I use the restroom first?"
He gave a curt nod. But the moment I stood, my legs gave out. Just as I was about to collapse, his arms caught me—
Except his hands landed squarely on my chest. I froze.
He gave a deliberate squeeze before steadying me.
Tears pricked at my eyes.
As I turned toward the bathroom, his voice stopped me. "Sophia, there's another set of lingerie. Change into it for the next shoot."
I grabbed the garment and hurried inside.
The second the door closed, I fumbled for tissues in my bag.
Peeling off the damp lingerie, I pressed the tissue against myself—only for it to be drenched instantly.
Flushing, I cleaned up quickly.
Then I pulled the new set from its packaging.
My face burned hotter. My lips parted in shock.
This lingerie was even more scandalous than the last.
Delicate feathers replaced the lace, covering nothing. The bottom was practically nonexistent.
I hesitated—but with my current outfit already discarded, I had no choice.
When I stepped out, Adrian's Adam's apple bobbed visibly.
A silent tell.
Before I could reach the sofa, his hand closed around my wrist, dragging me toward the bed.
His voice was rough. "Sophia, we'll shoot on the bed this time."
I nodded hesitantly, moving toward the edge.
The moment I sat down, Adrian knelt between my legs.
Confused, I watched as he suddenly spread them apart. A gasp escaped me, my thighs instinctively trying to close.
But he held them firmly in place.
His breath fanned over my inner thighs, and my body trembled helplessly.
He didn't do anything else—just studied the angle with unsettling focus.
Finally, he rose, pressing my torso back onto the mattress.
"Bend your knees," he ordered.
I obeyed. He widened my legs further.
When I twitched, his grip tightened. "Sophia, this angle will look perfect."
I went still, willing him to finish quickly.
But after a few shots, he still seemed dissatisfied.
The hunger in his eyes was unmistakable now. In one swift motion, he yanked me up, positioning me on my knees at the edge of the bed, my back arched.
Face burning, I held the pose.
His palm slid over my backside.
I jerked involuntarily.
A sharp smack landed—a warning. I froze.
Thankfully, he didn't linger.
Then he spread my legs wider apart.
I had no choice but to sink deeper into the mattress.
This time, the shutter clicked endlessly.
By the time he muttered, "Done," my legs were jelly.
His gaze darkened as he hauled me against his chest, one arm banding around my waist.
A startled sound caught in my throat.
I risked a glance at his face—then immediately looked down.
His hand began roaming, slow and deliberate.
"Sophia," he murmured, lips grazing my ear. "Are you free tonight?"