The Director's Cut by Js Taylor (if you give a mouse a cookie read aloud txt) 📕

murmurs, “when you’re struggling between decency, and arousal.”

I feel my face burn. He’s described it so accurately. Part of me is so ashamed. Another part is undeniably turned on, and I can feel how wet I am already.

“Take off your bra,” he orders.

I unhook it, and as I do so, James unleashes a flurry of shutter shots. I let it fall away to the sound of more photographs being taken.

“Lie back,” he instructs.

I let my bare back recline. The fabric of the chaise lounge feels cool against my bare skin.

As I’m thinking this, James clicks a few more times. I wonder what it is he’s seeing.

He moves the camera away from his face for a moment. And there’s something in his expression I haven’t seen before.

“I adore you,” he says quietly. “So much of your beauty is in your strength.”

He puts the camera carefully down and walks towards me. For a moment, I think he intends to pick up the riding crop. But he leaves it on the floor as he steps closer.

Then he seats himself next to me on the chaise lounge.

I look at him questioningly.

He runs a hand slowly along the curve of my stomach and lets it rest on the thin fabric of my panties. I feel my body surge with heat.

“I had plans for you,” he murmurs, letting his thumb slide along the top of my panties. My skin shudders as he moves it slowly from left to right.

Then he moves the other hand, so he has a thumb positioned under either side of my panties, resting on each hip bone.

He gives a firm tug, and I moan as he frees my panties and works them over my thighs.

With one hand, he moves them across my knees and gently over my feet. Then he swings them idly for a moment, and lets them fall to the wooden studio floor.

He holds one of my knees and slowly pushes the other one downwards, so I am completely revealed to him. The sudden cool air between my legs makes me gasp.

“So wet already,” he observes.

I feel myself falter, to be so laid bare to him. Instinctively, I move to close my legs, but he restrains me, putting a hand on my knee.

“I planned to take a variety of pictures,” he explains, his green eyes on mine.

His eyes flit towards the riding crop. And then something loads into his expression.

“I want to make love to you,” he says simply. “Issy, I can’t resist you. Lying here. So beautiful. I love you so much.”

Whoa. This feels like a complete change in direction.

He’s asking my permission, I realise, and I open my arms out to him.

“Yes,” I say, pulling him close.

His mouth meets mine, and the combined feelings are like an explosion. Lust and love are a heady mix, and as his tongue touches mine, every cell in my body is calling for him.

“I want you naked too,” I whisper. He moves back slightly, and starts to pulls away his clothes so fast, that I suddenly realise just how much he wants this.

Within moments, his T-shirt and jeans are on the floor. My hands reach to tug at his boxers, and they catch, for a tantalising moment, at what’s underneath, before he springs free.

Wow. No matter how many times I see the size of him, it still takes me by surprise.

He’s breathing heavily, and I feel him, hot on my neck, and he moves back into my arms.

“Oh Issy,” he groans, and his mouth is on mine again.

Everything seems to fall away, and for that moment, there is nothing but him.

Then I feel him hard against my leg, and in the next moment, he is rolling on a condom and pushing himself deep inside of me.

“Ahhh!” I cry out, and he begins to move. It’s urgent, but not rough. As though he needs my body. I open myself up to him, pushing my hips up to let him in deeper.

“Wait.” He grabs my hips and lifts me up whilst still inside of me. Then, with his free hand, he pushes a cushion under the small of my back.

“Mmmmm,” I moan. The cushion has lifted my clitoris to be in contact with him as he thrusts in and out.

I push even further forward, melting into the feeling.

“Am I touching where you need me to?” he whispers, slowing down his urgent movements inside of me.

“Yes,” I gasp, grabbing his hips with my hand. “Please James. Don’t stop.”

He groans again, and begins moving faster. And with every thrust, I feel something build from my clitoris through my entire body.

James’s hand moves up the side of my neck, to hold my head, and his mouth is close on mine, following my every movement.

Then his thrusting seems to hit a new place, and all at once, I explode. My body pulses, and my hands clutch at his hips.

I cry out, and as I do so, James moans, and I feel him come inside me.

Then he’s holding my face in his hands, staring into my eyes.

“Oh Issy,” he whispers. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” I answer, losing myself in his green eyes.

We lie like that, across the chaise lounge, tight in one another’s arms.

My eyes flick to the riding crop on the floor, and James catches the gesture.

“Don’t think you’ve got away without your punishment,” he warns. “This is just a reprieve.”

“Oh really?” I let my bare foot caress the side of his leg.

“Yes,” he says. “I’ve still got a lot planned for you, Isabella Green.”

Chapter 9

We emerge from the artist’s studio onto the sunny backstreet. And it’s as though the mood of the whole day has shifted.

The last hour has loosened our tensions, and we could almost be like any other holidaying couple as we fall out into the Barcelona sunlight with our arms around one another.

James turns to me, and his face is beatifically calm. His green eyes are alive.

“I think this is the happiest I’ve seen you,” I smile