She rolls her eyes and pulls away, stepping into the room and swiping her hand along the wall. A light turns on in the corner. I follow her inside what appears to be another gaming room. Table games. Foosball, air hockey, pool. I’m shocked there aren’t any kids back here. I know this is where I would be if I were their age.
“Apparently you can only rent out this room for birthday parties and stuff. It’s not available to the people just here for the arcade. That’s why they keep it separate,” Brooke answers the silent questions circling in my head as she walks around the tables.
I take a moment to watch her.
Dark hair curling down her back. That tight black skirt, showing off her slim waist and perfect fucking arse. She turns to face me and I slowly lift my eyes, catching her smirk, knowing she’s caught me staring at her and hardly caring. I think she rather likes it when I do that.
“Do you know what this is?” With a quick hand, she pushes back the red curtain of the photo booth she’s stopped at in the back corner, then sticks that same hand to her hip. “I mean, do they have these in Australia or is this strictly an awesome American thing, like setting off fireworks on July fourth?”
With an intrigued smile, I step forward. “Ah, your pull from those bloody Poms. I’ll celebrate that.”
She tilts her head adorably. “Poms?”
“English. Brits. And of course we have photo booths. I believe they are quite popular at weddings and parties, yeah? People take pictures with silly props and what not.”
“Sometimes.”
I reach her, touching the smooth skin of her arm with the back of my fingers. My smile gentles. “What are we doing here, Brooke? Do you want to take photos with me?”
Something sharp gathers in the center of my chest, spreading down my limbs and prickling in my scalp. Is it possible she wants a keepsake from our night together? A piece she can store away and slowly build on?
The evidence of the beginning . . .
Fuck, it’s staggering how badly I want it. How affected I am. She isn’t the only one feeling out of sorts here.
Brooke steps inside the booth, which seems to be much larger than any of the ones I have ever seen before. I’m guessing you can fit groups of people in here instead of just one or two. Perfect for a large party of kids, I suppose.
Facing me, the corner of her mouth lightly pulls into a smile. “It’s a dark spot. I’m hoping there’s enough going on out there to keep the staff occupied for a bit.” She holds out her hand to me. I don’t miss the slight tremble in it. “I need ones. Got any?”
I stare at her, wondering if she’s about to do something she’s possibly never done before. If maybe this fresh, charmingly sexual woman wants to give me one of her firsts.
I’ll take it.
I dig into my wallet and hand her a few bills. When I move to step inside with her, she presses against my chest, keeping me out.
“Watch for your photos. There.” She nods at the slot on the outside panel.
I give her a wary look, but ultimately agree to this. Maybe she wants to give me photos of herself first before we take any together.
Too fucking right. I would love photos of Brooke.
I step back with a quick jerk of my chin. “All right.”
The curtain is drawn. It stops a short distance from the bottom of the booth, completely obstructing my view of Brooke. I move to the side and press my back against the panel, waiting. A soft shuffling sound comes from behind the curtain, followed by a click, the shutter of the lens. Three more follow between long seconds, and I imagine her changing her pose, going from something innocent and playful to something a bit silly. Brief flashes of white light streak across the tile floor at my feet. I cross my arms over my chest, only to push away from the panel when I hear something slide into the slot behind me.
I pick up the sheet of photos.
Good God. Holy . . .
“Fuck,” I groan, my cock quickly lengthening as I stare at the four shots of Brooke; topless, pinching her rose colored nipples, licking and sucking the skin of her tits. Her pretty little arse turned toward the camera in the bottom shots while she fucks her pussy with two fingers. Over her shoulder, her eyes are round with abandon. Feverish and frenzied. Her red lips parted with a sigh or a moan.
She’s giving me this. This gorgeous girl is giving me images of her body to not only admire, but to keep and stare at for later, stroke my cock to, do what I want with.
I wrench the curtain open and step inside, dropping the sheet of photos on the bench and grabbing her face after I conceal us.
She’s still topless. Her skirt is still gathered at her waist, and she’s panting, breathless from her own touch.
I slide my mouth against hers. “Jesus Christ, Brooke. You’re trying to kill me, yeah? You sweet fucking thing.” She answers with a moan as I kiss her jaw and suck on the skin beneath her ear. Sugar sticks to my tongue. Gripping her arse in my hands, I groan against her neck. “You taste so fucking good. Like one of those bloody cupcakes you make.”
“It’s my body lotion. Vanilla cake batter. It’s edible.”
“Fuck. Don’t tell me that.” My groin throbs against her belly. I pinch my eyes shut.
Stay focused, mate. You don’t want to rush with her.
Brooke giggles against my ear. “Why not? I’m wearing it for you. Lick away.”
I lean back and bring her hand to my mouth, drawing on the tips of her fingers.
“Mason,” she whispers, moving in to kiss me, sucking her taste off my tongue. Pressing, pressing, harder. Her lips are soft yet commanding, and she tastes like her wine from earlier; a warm, ripe fruit. I bite her lip and she gasps, tilting her head back and brushing her heavy breasts against my shirt. She does the same to me, a quick bite of pain, and I groan, slapping her ass and relishing in the quiet shudder that ripples through her body.