The Photographer’s Private Shoot - Chapter 4: Chapter 4

I couldn't bring myself to look at him, so I pretended not to hear.
Then, to my surprise, he caught my earlobe between his teeth, nipping just enough to make me shiver.
The sensation nearly buckled my knees.
Trapped, I finally murmured, "I'm free."
After the shoot, I bolted—changed in record time and hit the streets before my nerves could catch up.
Had today really gone well?
The memory of Adrian's rough hands lingering on my skin sent heat flooding through me.
I shook it off and hurried home, collapsing onto my bed the second I walked in.
I slept until eight, only to wake up to a text from Adrian: Something urgent came up. Can't make it.
Relief washed over me—facing him would've been impossible—but beneath it, a quiet pang of disappointment settled in my chest.
I ordered takeout, picked at it halfheartedly, then dragged myself into the shower.
Just as I stepped out, my phone buzzed—a flood of photos from Adrian.
In them, my expression was dazed, cheeks flushed, the lingerie clinging to every curve.
Some were close-ups. My fingers trembled scrolling through them, my face burning hotter with each swipe.
Remembering how he'd positioned me for every shot only made it worse.
Then his final message: "The close-ups are just for you. They won't be shared."
My stomach flipped.
But of course, he couldn't resist teasing. "If you like them, Sophia, we can shoot again."
I ignored him, studying the photos instead—until warmth pooled between my thighs, dampening the fabric.
Clutching my phone, I drifted off… and dreamed of Adrian.
We were back in the studio, but in the dream, he was bolder.
His mouth traced my skin, his gaze locking onto mine with dark intent.
Instinctively, I tangled my fingers in his hair.
Then he slid a strap aside, his hand hovering—
I jolted awake, pulse racing.
Him. Of all people. And that kind of dream.
Days passed without a word.
Then, out of nowhere, Adrian called. An underwear brand wanted me for a campaign. Was I in?
I said yes.
At the studio, I arrived in a cheongsam.
The moment he saw me, his eyes darkened. "Sophia, this suits you. Every inch."
His voice dropped on the last words, breath hot against my ear.
My thighs pressed together on instinct.
When I reached for the new set to change, he stopped me.
"We're short on time. Next client needs the space. Change here."
His tone was all business. I nodded.
Adrian watched from a few feet away as I slipped off the dress.
I hesitated at the lingerie.
"All of it," he said. "Easier to shoot."
Turning away, I undid the clasps. As I bent for the fresh set, his hand got there first.
His lips brushed my thigh. "You're exquisite. Like art."
I froze.
Adrian straightened, guiding the new lingerie onto me himself.
Under his heated stare, I let him.
The design was modest compared to last time—until I joined him by the camera and caught his smirk.
Two steps in, I gasped.
A strand of pearls nestled between my legs.
Every movement tugged at them. My breath turned ragged.
Adrian gestured for me to hurry.
I took a wider step—and the pearls pulled tighter.
Tremors wracked me. By the halfway point, slickness trailed down my inner thighs.
Somehow, I made it to the set.
Adrian knelt instantly, dabbing at the moisture with a towel.
I tried to shift away, but his grip tightened.
His touch slowed. Then he spread my legs wider, lowering his head—
I clenched around him instinctively.
And felt the wetness deepen.