Forbidden Fruit Read online

  Forbidden Fruit

  Robin Carter

  Copyright © 2020 by Robin Carter

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  1

  When the little bell on the front door of Emily’s Edible Arrangements rang to announce the arrival of a customer, I wasn’t prepared to look up and see Rick Parker entering the store.

  It was only my second week on staff, and Emily was out on a delivery. Which left just me, a shy eighteen-year-old bookworm, and Rick Parker, the successful fashion photographer with salt and pepper hair and a jaw so chiseled it could cut glass.

  He stepped immediately to the counter without bothering to look around.

  “I need an arrangement. Something with peaches if you have them. Tomorrow’s my mom’s birthday.”

  I had no idea what he’d said. I was too busy starting into his hypnotic brown eyes and trying not to look foolish.

  Too late.

  “I’m sorry...can you repeat that?”

  He looked exasperated already. As the go-to photographer for several high end lingerie brands, Rick Parker was probably a man who got what he wanted without having to ask twice.

  “My mother. She likes peaches. Can I order something and have it delivered tomorrow?”

  “Oh, well, we don’t really have peaches. They’re too...juicy for the arrangements. But we just got in some fresh melons and strawberries. Will that work?”

  “Fine. Let me get your biggest basket delivered to this address.”

  He handed me a post-it note with his mother’s name and residence scrawled on it in handwriting that could have belonged to a fourth grader. Or a doctor.

  “We have a few different options at our highest level. Let me show you some demos.”

  He sighed audibly as I grabbed some sample baskets from a high shelf behind the counter. I felt my t-shirt lifting to expose my bare midriff as I reached over my head. Out of the corner of my eye, I could tell that he was staring at me. Blatantly and rudely checking me out.

  Either that or he was judging me for my incompetence. I have to admit I hoped it was the former option.

  I managed to grab one of the baskets but couldn’t reach the other two, even after I hopped on the step stool.

  “Here. Let me get them.” His deep voice startled me and I looked down to see him standing beside me. We normally didn’t allow customers behind the counter, but he wasn’t asking permission.

  He reached up and effortlessly retrieved the samples. We were suddenly inches apart, and his arm brushed against my left breast as he brought down the basket. His face went red for only a split second, but a blush is a blush. How could a man who makes his living working with half-naked fashion models get embarrassed by a little accidental boob contact?

  “Thank you,” I told him and presented the arrangement options on the counter. We used plastic fruit, but they got the ideas across.

  He seemed genuinely stumped by the decision. “If you were receiving one, which one would you like?”

  I was flattered that he wanted my opinion, but what he didn’t know was that I’d never actually received an edible arrangement. Or flowers. Or a box of chocolates, for that matter.

  Because I, Michelle Grayson, your friendly Centerville virgin, had never had a boyfriend to give them to me.

  “Me? I’d go with this one. But that’s because I love bananas.”

  “Alright then, I trust you. Let’s go with that. What do I owe you?

  After he settled up, I said goodbye and turned to enter the sale in Emily’s obnoxiously redundant spreadsheet. Rick Parker, however, didn’t leave. He just stood there, staring at me.

  This was getting a little creepy. I mean, the guy was hot, but still…

  Finally, I turned to him and, without trying to disguise my irritation, said, “Is there something else I can help you with?”

  “As a matter of fact, there is,” he replied, his eyes scanning me head to toe. “Have you ever done any modeling?”

  2

  The following Saturday, I stood outside Rick Parker’s converted mill loft and took a deep breath.

  Was I really going through with this?

  The answer to Rick’s question was, no, I had never done any modeling. But it was a secret dream of mine. One I was too embarrassed to share with anyone.

  I was friends with the honors students, the feminists, the geeks…What would they think if I told them I often daydreamed about runways and posing for Victoria’s Secret? First of all, I’m not nearly pretty enough. I might be attractive by normal people standards, but I’m no Gisele.

  Second of all, I was supposed to be pursuing more “academic” endeavors. Which I was, but I also didn’t see anything wrong with embracing feminine beauty. Or even showing it off if you’ve got it.

  To be directly invited by the Rick Parker to pose for one of his ongoing personal projects was an opportunity I couldn’t pass up. But I didn’t tell anyone about it. Not my uptight family. Not my judgy friends. I wanted to do this and Rick had an outstanding reputation. So that was that. I was nervous, but not at all worried about my safety.

  I knocked on the door. Rick opened in wearing faded jeans and an old white t-shirt that hugged his impressive physique. He smiled graciously. “Come in.”

  He gave me the rundown before I signed the model release. This was for a personal project of his, a series of portraits capturing everyday beauty. He chose “real” women and photographed them using natural light only. In this case, the beautiful sunlight of his airy loft.

  Oh yeah. One more thing.

  The portraits were of the nude variety.

  Not implied nude. Not partially nude.

  Full on, birthday suit, leave nothing to the imagination nude.

  Carefully wax every hair on your body nude.

  I knew that before I agreed to pose, and I knew it when I signed the release. I was tired of my safe, sheltered life. It was time to do something outside of my comfort zone, something that scared me.

  Of course, if the images turned out well, Rick could select one for his book and I’d end up naked for the whole world to see...but that was a bridge I would cross if I got there.

  The bridge directly in front of me, which I was hesitating before, my heart pounding out of my chest, took the form of a gruff voice casually telling me to “go ahead and get undressed.”

  Rick waited, camera in hand, impatience blooming in his dark brown eyes.

  This wasn’t going to get any easier.

  At long last I stepped behind the divider, took a deep breath, and unbuttoned my shirt.

  3

  Rick was drinking scotch at his granite kitchen counter when I emerged from behind the screen. The only thing I had on was the (extremely short) robe he provided for his models. He paused mid-sip and looked at me. “Wow,” he said. “You have really great legs.”

  Moi?

  “Thanks. You’ve got great arms.”

  OK, Michelle. Keep it together.

  Rick laughed. “Alright. You ready to do this?” He gulped down the rest of his drink and turned on some music.

  “Ready as I’ll ever be. Where do you want me?”

  “Over there by the window. You can actually sit on the ledge.”

  I glanced sheepishly at the large window pane.

  “Don’t worry,” he said, reading my mind. “No one can see you. It’s just a bunch o
f fucking trees out there.”

  I moved to the window still, a large concrete shelf, essentially, and realized that this was it. I was two seconds away from stripping down entirely in front of a fiendishly handsome older man. I’d never even shown my tits to a boy. What the hell was I thinking?

  There was no time for cold feet, however. Rick was already lining up a shot.

  “Is something wrong?” he asked, sensing my trepidation.

  “Nope. All good,” I lied. The butterflies in my stomach fluttered mercilessly.

  “You can toss your robe on the couch. Whenever you’re ready.”

  Fuck it. Let’s do this.

  I untied the robe, pulled it off, and threw it on the arm of the couch. And there I was. Completely bare and climbing to my perch in the window.

  I’d done my homework and memorized a bunch of sexy (but tasteful) poses, so I shifted into one of them and waited. With my legs extended, my back slightly arched against the window frame, and my face angled three quarters toward the camera, I was ready for my close up.

  Only I didn’t hear the click of the shutter. I looked at my photographer.

  Rick’s jaw was practically on the floor. The moment hung in the air before he composed himself. “I’m sorry,” he said, “I just....you’re stunning.”

  Wow.

  “I’m sure you say that to all your models. But thank you.”

  “No. I really don’t.”

  Just…wow.

  After that, it was all business. It was a surprisingly technical process. Turn your chin a centimeter this way, tuck that arm behind your torso, put your left foot on the floor...All the while, the camera clicked away.

  It wasn’t long before I got used to being naked. It’s amazing how quickly we can adapt to almost any situation. We tried several more poses around the loft, chasing the light and accentuating the formal aspects of my figure. I know I didn’t have anything to compare the experience to, but he truly was a great photographer. I felt safe and beautiful and willing to try anything he suggested. I trusted his eye. Even more so when he let me see some of the photos.

  “Come here,” he told me as he cycled through the images on his camera’s display. “You gotta see some of these.”

  I hopped up and stood beside him. I didn’t even bother putting on the robe. I was too excited to see the results.

  The photos were amazing. Sexy, sensual, and empowering. The lighting was perfect in every single shot, and he captured me in a way I had never been able to see myself.

  “Wow. That’s me.” It was all I could say. I put my hand on his back and gave him a quick, congratulatory rub. “We did that.”

  “You did that,” he said, humbly. I looked at him and realized that we were now standing extremely close. Closer than we needed to. Closer than we probably should.

  I didn’t even want to guess at the age difference between us, but no one could deny we had chemistry.

  As our eyes locked, I felt overwhelmingly attracted to him. For once in my life, I let the logical side of my brain take a back seat to my most primal desires.

  I kissed him.

  And he kissed me back.

  And what a kiss it was.

  Before I knew what was happening, we were entangled in a passionate embrace. Hs tongue was in my mouth and my hands roamed wildly over his shoulders and chest. My nipples hardened and he pulled me against his firm body using only one, large hand against the small of my back. He nearly dropped his camera.

  I knew in that moment that this was going to be the day that I lost my virginity. I was tired of waiting. Tired of holding back.

  I wanted to give myself to him, to make love, to fuck until we were too exhausted to move.

  But as quickly as the make-out session had begun, it ended. He took a step back.

  “Rick...what’s the matter?”

  “I can’t.”

  “Yes. Believe me...you can.” I tried to kiss him again but he pulled away.

  “No,” he said. “I really can’t.”

  Paranoia washed over me. “Wait...are you fucking married?”

  “No, I’m not married.”

  “What then? Tell me?”

  “I don’t fool around with my subjects. Ever.” He sat down and put his camera on the coffee table.

  “Oh,” I said, suddenly feeling small and insecure. “What is that, some kind of photographer’s law?”

  “It’s my law,” he said sternly. “This is my profession. My art form. My name means everything, and people trust me. I can’t risk my reputation just because...”

  “Just because what, Rick?”

  He looked at me with tortured, soulful eyes. “Just because I want nothing more than to throw you down on that bed and kiss every inch of your body.”

  I stepped toward him and took his hand and said, “I can keep a secret if you can.”

  He averted his eyes. “Get dressed. please.”

  I yanked my hand back. “Fine. We both know that’s not what you want, but I’m not going to beg. I already feel like an idiot.”

  I turned and retreated behind the divider, a storm raging inside of me. I fumbled with my clothes, trying to separate my bra from the tangle of my shirt.

  That bastard, I thought. Like he hasn’t fooled around with those smoking hot lingerie models.

  But my anger and disappointment only stood to drive home one unavoidable fact.

  I had fallen for Rick Parker.

  Flustered by my clothes, I took a second to stop and regain my composure. I closed my eyes and took three deep breaths.

  And that’s when I felt his hand on my shoulder.

  He spun me around to face him and I dropped my clothes on the floor.

  There was a fire burning in his eyes. I stood paralyzed as he lifted my chin, leaned down, and kissed me again.

  4

  My body went limp, supported by his grip on my arms. I let myself succumb to his hunger. We kissed like that, heavy, unbridled, until I needed more.

  In a move so sudden and smooth it even surprised me, I jumped up and wrapped my legs around him. He grabbed my ass and held me there while I pushed my lips against his. Our tongues intertwined in a slick, chaotic dance.

  He whirled me around, unable to see, and we knocked the panel to the floor. He threw me on the bed against the back wall of his loft and crashed his weight on top of me.

  With his hand wrapped tightly around my thigh, he pushed into me. I felt his swollen cock fighting the denim of his jeans as he pushed against my sex.

  I wondered, briefly, if I should tell him that I was a virgin. But I didn’t want him to stop. Worse yet, I didn’t want him to treat me differently.

  If he knew, he might hold back.

  And I didn’t want him to hold back. I wanted him to take me.

  His mouth found its way down my neck and collar bone, and finally to my breasts. Wet, frantic kisses rained over my erect nipples. He clawed at my tits and squeezed, hard, as he sucked the sensitive, taut flesh of my small, pink buds.

  “Fuck me,” I demanded. “Fuck me now.”

  He sat up only long enough to pull his shirt over his head and unzip his pants, then once again he was between my legs. Our mouths reattached like magnets while he reached between us and pulled out his cock.

  He guided it toward my pussy. I was wet. I was ready. At least physically…But I didn’t want this to be over too quickly. I wanted to experience it all. To taste every pleasure.

  “Wait. Not yet,” I said. “I want it in my mouth.”

  His eyes shined and he crawled on top of my chest, his powerful thighs straddling me. I wrapped my fist around his shaft and took him between my lips. He grunted and slammed a hand against the wall as he leaned over me.

  I swirled my tongue around his cock, the first one I’d ever had in my mouth. I tried to emulate the porn I’d seen but in the end, I could only do what came naturally.

  Removing my fingers, I slid my hand across his flexed, cut abdomen and then down to his hi
p. I pulled him into my mouth and allowed my throat to relax. His manhood was thick and long and it filled my mouth as it went deeper.

  Then he pulled it out halfway before pushing it in again. I looked up at him with wide, innocent eyes and let him fuck my mouth.

  “Oh god,” he moaned, staring down at me. I grabbed the hem of his jeans and tried to pull them down over his ass, but they wouldn’t budge. He climbed off me, kicked off his shoes, and practically ripped them off.

  I was still on my back when he forced my knees apart and knelt on the floor. He ran his tongue across the smooth skin of my leg, from my knee to my inner thigh. Then his lips were on my cunt, sucking and flicking at my clit. His fingers entered me and a shock jolted through my flesh.

  The walls of my pussy contracted against his fingers as he ate me out. I pushed my hand through his hair and pulled his head into me. He put a hand under my ass and lifted me up, devouring me like an animal.

  Pins and needles started in my toes and spread out from there. I locked my ankles behind his broad back and let the sensation flow through me.

  That’s when he abruptly pulled back and flipped me over.

  Lying on my stomach, I wasn’t prepared for what happened next.

  5

  The kisses started on my lower back. Rick peppered my butt and hips with them, soft and sweet, sending chills up my spine. I didn’t know what he was up to but my pussy craved more.

  There was a brief pause, and then I felt his wet lips gently suckle at the top of my ass. With a hand on either cheek, the kisses descended slowly along the line of my crack.

  My pulse raced and my breathing shallowed. I buried my face in the rumpled sheets and let him do something I would have found unthinkable prior to that moment.

  The taboo of it all was exhilarating. I moaned slowly to let him know I approved, that I wanted it. I lifted my hips for him and relaxed my muscles.