Her tits spilled free—heavy, flawless impossibly high and round, nipples fat and dark and begging to be sucked raw. They bounced once, settled high on her chest, skin flushed and gleaming with the faintest sheen of oil.

She cupped them lazily, thumbs flicking over the stiff peaks, and let out a soft, deliberate moan that went straight to his balls.

"Keep shooting, baby," she whispered, pinching one nipple hard enough to make herself gasp. "Because I'm just getting started… and Maddie's waiting in the wings to make you lose the rest of your mind."

She cupped them tighter, pushed those heavy, flawless tits together until they spilled over her hands, deep cleavage forming a perfect, glistening valley. Then she looked directly into the camera lens—eyes dark and smoldering, lips parted on a soft, deliberate moan.

"Are you getting this?"

Click. Click. Click.

He was getting it. He was definitely getting it. He was also getting a boner so hard it could cut diamonds, the thick ridge straining against his sweatpants in a visible, throbbing outline that pulsed with every breath.

"Your turn," Sierra finally purred, rising from the couch with the lazy, satisfied grace of a woman who knew she'd just ruined him for life.

She retrieved her robe but didn't bother tying it, letting it hang open as she walked away, bare tits swaying, ass rolling, the soaked thong still pulled aside so her slick cunt lips flashed with every step.

"Maddie's been patient long enough."

From the corner, where she'd been watching the entire time with eyes gone feral and thighs pressed tightly together, Maddie made a sound like a pressure cooker about to explode.

"FINALLY!"

She didn't drop her robe—she ripped it off and flung it across the room like it had personally offended her.

Jesus. Fucking. Christ.

White lace. Bridal white, so sheer it was basically sarcasm. Like she was playing innocent virgin sacrifice on her wedding night—except everyone in the room knew Maddie had never been innocent a day in her life, and the irony made it ten times hotter.

The bra was a complete lie. Not even pretending to cover anything. Pure transparent mesh stretched over perfect, perky tits—nipples fat and cotton-candy pink, already diamond-hard, poking obscenely through the fabric like they were trying to tear free.

The areolas were visible in perfect detail, pale pink circles drawn around stiff peaks that begged to be pinched and sucked until she screamed.

The thong was criminal. Three pathetic strings and a tiny triangle of lace barely wider than his thumb, already drenched and clinging to her smooth, waxed mound. When she turned—

Her ass was completely bare.

The T-back meant two strings framing the plumpest, roundest, most spankable cheeks he'd ever seen—firm, golden, jiggling faintly as she moves, the single string disappearing deep between them, doing absolutely nothing to hide the tight pink pucker or the way her arousal is already slicked the insides of her thighs.

"How's this?" Maddie launched herself onto the fainting couch like an overexcited puppy with triple-D curves. Limbs flailed gloriously. "Is this good? Should I—" Twist. Arch. Roll. Three positions in two seconds flat.

"What about THIS? Or this? Phei, tell me what to do, I need it!"

"Just—hold still—for one second—"

"HOLDING!" She froze instantly.

And somehow ended up ass-up, face buried in the velvet, back arched like a porn star in heat—cheeks spread wide, the tiny white string pulled tight and vanishing completely between them, exposing her glistening pink slit and the tight rosebud above it.

Her cunt lips were puffy and slick, inner folds peeking out, a bead of arousal dripping slow and obscene down one thigh.

"Is this sexy?" she asked, voice muffled and breathless. "I feel like this might be really sexy. Sierra, back me up—is this sexy?"

"It's something," Sierra said dryly, but her own hand had slipped between her thighs, fingers lazily circling her clit through her pants as she watched Phei go harder in his pants.

What will he do to, Maddie, later? She couldn't help but wonder.

Phei took the picture.

Click.

"Move to the window," he rasped, voice thick and wrecked. "The light's better there."

Maddie scrambled up and bolted to the massive floor-to-ceiling windows, bare feet slapping marble, positioning herself against the white backdrop where the afternoon sun of Downtown Paradise from up here bathed her like a goddamn offering.

The golden light turned her skin luminous, highlighted every curve, made the wet spot on her thong glisten.

"Like this?" She pressed her tits to the cool glass, back arched, ass out, looking over her shoulder with wide, needy eyes. She could see how hard he was just looking at her and Maddie was sure if she over did it just a little more this whole picture session could... end up with his cock in her virgin pussy.

"Turn. Left. A little more. Stop."

Click.

"Now take off the bra."

The command slipped out before his brain caught up.

"Take that bra off. Right now."

Maddie's eyes went huge—pupils blowing wide in an instant, like someone had flipped a switch straight to her hindbrain. Her lips parted on a soft, stunned little gasp.

Then her smile detonated.

Not sweet. Not shy. Pure, filthy, chaotic lust cracked across her face like lightning. Her cheeks flushed crimson, breath hitching so hard her whole chest shuddered. She looked drunk on the order already.

"Yes sir," she breathed, the two words dripping with something almost reverent and completely depraved at the same time.

Her hands flew behind her back so fast she almost elbowed herself. Fingers trembled—actually trembled—as she scrabbled at the tiny clasp.

The little scrap of black lace was already pointless, more decoration than support, but the act of obeying made her clumsy with want. She finally popped it free with a tiny triumphant sound, shoulders rolling forward so the straps slid down her arms like they couldn't get off her fast enough.

The bra fluttered to the floor in a sad little heap.

Her tits bounced free—high, round, shamelessly perfect. The sunlight pouring through the window caught the pale undersides and turned her skin golden, made the tight pink buds of her nipples look obscene, glossy, begging.

They were already so hard they looked almost painful.

Maddie didn't wait for permission.

Both hands shot up, cupping herself roughly, fingers digging in like she needed to prove they were real.

She squeezed hard—hard enough that soft flesh spilled between her knuckles—and dragged her thumbs over those stiff peaks once, twice, then pinched them viciously between forefinger and thumb.

A high, broken whimper punched out of her throat.

Her knees actually buckled half a step before she caught herself.

"Fuck—" she hissed, eyes glassy, pupils eating the iris. "They're so sensitive today… I can feel it all the way down to my clit just from—oh god—"

She twisted both nipples at once, sharp little tugs, and her hips jerked forward involuntarily like someone had yanked an invisible string tied to her core. A thin, glistening thread of arousal was already starting to show on the inside of her thigh.

She looked up at him then—eyes wide and shining, mouth soft and panting, cheeks blazing—and the expression on her face was nothing short of worshipful desperation.

"Like this?" she gasped, pushing them together, offering them up to the lens.

"Hands down. Let me see them properly."

She obeyed instantly, arms dropping to her sides, chest thrust forward, nipples hard and proud.

Click. Click. Click.

The camera shook in his hands. Pre-come leaked steadily now, soaking through his sweatpants in a dark, spreading patch. His cock throbbed in time with his heartbeat, aching to be buried in one—or both—of them.

Maddie bit her lip, eyes locked on the bulge in his pants.

Maddie's breath came in shallow, uneven pants. She licked her lips, eyes locked on his, glassy and pleading.

"Phei," she whispered, voice trembling with raw need. "Please tell me we're doing more than pictures soon… because I'm so fucking wet I can feel it dripping down my legs."

Her words hung there, shameless and desperate, the confession making her flush even darker. A tiny, involuntary roll of her hips followed—like her body was answering its own plea.

He let the silence stretch just long enough to watch her squirm—hips shifting, thighs pressing together like she was trying to trap the ache between them.

He stepped closer. Close enough that she had to tilt her head back to keep eye contact. His voice came out low, calm, almost casual—like he was commenting on the weather.

"Now remove the thong. And get to the couch."

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