Shutter

Chapter Six

Suddenly every paparazzi Elle ever knew, that she had ever been acquainted with, was trying to hit her up for a story. They all saw Liam's photos of hers and Julian's heated conversation outside of the club, and the shining proof that something was sure to be going on with them when Julian jumped in the cab with her. And they all wanted answers. She was starting to feel like a pariah. Charlie told her it would die down eventually, but Elle was beginning to find it hard even going out to do her job with her colleagues all turning on her.

Luckily, she wasn't one to sit back and watch her whole world fall apart from one tiny, insignificant photo spread. She held her head high with dignity and kept at her normal routine. Those bastards didn't need to know anything. What happened in the confines of her private life would stay private. And it had for nearly two weeks. She and Julian successfully kept a low profile, and everything with him was going swimmingly as they started getting to know each other both physically and emotionally.

It couldn't be helped that he was the first thing on Elle's mind when she woke up and the last thing on her mind when she went to bed. The latter could be due to the fact that he was either lying right next to her when she fell asleep or had occupied her bed with her just prior to her falling asleep. All she knew was Julian's hips against her hips brought out the deepest urges from inside of her, and she loved every second of it. And fuck, could it really be held against her for wanting to lose herself so thoroughly with him? It really couldn't be helped with his lips on her throat and his fingertips digging into the flesh of her hips.

...

"God, Julian," Elle gasped, feeling him thrust against her.

It was the third night that week that he came over for an off-the-record rendezvous. It was something Elle enjoyed immensely. From the way he looked at her – the soft, sparkling gleam in his eye whenever their eyes met – to the way he touched her, kissed her, fucked her. Her body never felt as good as when he took control of it.

Elle lay naked, sprawled out across her bed for him as he kissed and licked and nipped what felt like every inch of her skin. She was slowly losing her mind with his attention to detail, his unrelenting way of keeping her body writhing below him.

"Please, Julian... just... please," she whimpered, begging for him to give her what she wanted, what she needed.

"Please, what?" His voice coming out huskier than usual as his lips and tongue glided back up over her throat.

"Please, just... please..." She whimpered again. She was going mad from his benevolent torture.

"Please, what?" He asked again, thrusting himself against her center.

"Fuck me, Julian... just, fuck me. I can't... oh my god," she whimpered, gripping her hair between her fingers as her body arched up toward him.

She heard his soft chuckle before his lips came down firmly against her own. Her mouth immediately welcomed his kisses and his warm tongue as she felt his hand snake down between them. Seconds later, he pushed inside, and her body, once again, involuntarily arched into him as her mouth dropped open letting out a pleasing moan.

"You are the sexiest woman on the planet, Elle," Julian asserted, smiling against her lips.

Words were too hard for her brain to put together in the moment, so she let out another moan in response as he began his entrancing rhythm.

Every thrust, every strategic kiss was damning – in the way that she knew she'd never be able to get enough of him, in the way she knew no other man would ever compare. Not to Julian. Not to the man she fell for behind a camera lens. Not to the man who she could feel her heartstrings being tethered to.