Naomi Daze Nudes Novels & Stories

Aria stood outside the converted warehouse in Manhattan's Meatpacking District, checking the address on her phone one more time. This was it. Damien Cross Photography Studio. Damien Cross. The Damien Cross. The photographer whose work hung in MoMA and the Guggenheim. Whose controversial nude series had caused scandals and made millions. Whose subjects became famous simply by being photographed by him. And he was looking for a new muse. Aria was twenty-five, a struggling artist working three jobs to pay rent on a studio apartment the size of a closet. She'd seen the casting call online: Seeking female model, 21-30, comfortable with artistic nudity, long-term project, substantial compensation.

DARIUS POV I’m buttoning up a black dress shirt as I hear the shower turn off. I peer into the bathroom and see Daya’s reflection in the mirror as she steps out of the shower. Her tan and muscular body is still wet. I catch a glimpse of her perfect ass before she wraps a towel around her naked form. Damn it! I look down and I’m already hard just from looking at her. I haven’t admitted this to Daya, but since she marked me, my desire to have sex, and bury myself deep inside her, has skyrocketed. We have been having plenty of sex now that she moved in, but I’m always hungry for more.

“Wait, is she bare-faced right now? This is the first time I’ve seen a livestream with no beauty filter.” “Why doesn’t she dance anymore?” “Her background looks so nice. Where is she?” Naomi glanced at the comments—most were compliments on her looks. What woman doesn’t like being told she’s beautiful? Naomi was no exception. “Come on, you guys are embarrassing me,” she said with a grin. “But what can I do? Born with these good looks—it’s hard to stay low-key.” She even picked up a compact cushion nearby and checked her skin—still flawless. She usually didn’t wear makeup around Atlas anyway. That way, they could kiss freely. Hehe.

Sage heard AJ stop and growled at the darkness. “What the hell is that? AJ come now!” Screamed Sage. AJ ran toward Sage and slipped on the wet grass sliding right behind her feet. In front of her eyes, she saw a scene that could have been out of an old movie. She watched as the night become day. Sage saw people roaming around a field as if they belonged there. She saw a lady with her white apron on and her muted blue dress was to her ankles. Her hair was chocolate brown and was laying causal around her shoulders.

Finally. Naomi is back.

The rain is pouring outside and it’s a blissful view from the big window. Naomi removed her ponytail and tied her long hair in a bun. She removed her denim jacket which she’s wearing along with her pink sundress. Nick couldn’t take his eyes off her, she’s dazzling all the time. When Naomi looked at him, he turned his gaze to the other side. Naomi then removed her shoes and sat down on the bed in an utter blow when Nick removed his t-shirt revealing his abs. He turned off the lights and came closer to Naomi. In one way, it’s good too because she’s blushing like a tomato.

Naomi teased. I nudged her into the room and shut the door behind us. Naomi staggered toward the swivel chair, then straightened, dusting off nonexistent dust from her clothes. "What the hell is wrong with you?!" I demanded. "Not only did you make her wear one of your outrageous dresses to parade her like a whore..." "Oh, please," Naomi interjected. "She looks decent, and the 'outrageous dress' reaches her ankles. She's far more decent than any of the women I've ever seen you with..."

She looked at the wall again keenly. "This must be a hidden safe or something like that" she thought and tried to find a lock or anything to open its door. Upon searching for a while, she found a small black button. She pressed it, and the mirror slid open revealing a rectangle-shaped compartment. Photo albums are stacked to one side and Riley's pictures are placed on the other. Naomi picked up one of the albums and opened it. She stumbled with shock. The album is filled with pictures of naked women who are in a bad shape. All of them are dead and they are bleeding from various wounds.

And that, of course, made me want to touch her more. I closed my eyes for a fraction of a second, just long enough to draw a deep, shaky breath, and tried to rerun my mantra. Six months. Boundaries. Professionalism. I opened my eyes and looked at the bonfire pit again. Naomi was sitting cross-legged on the rattan sofa, her feet bare, the hem of her simple white sundress riding high on her tanned thighs. Her hands were wrapped around a glass of something clear and sparkling. She was leaning back, her head tipped to the sky, glowing in the heat of the bonfire. She was laughing, a pure, unrestrained sound that hit me like a physical blow, right where the pulse thumped heavily beneath my ribs. H

THE FIRST EXCHANGE Naomi smiled warmly. "Well you've already contributed quite a bit tonight, so I suppose I need to make a good faith showing of my own." With that, she sat up and scooted over a bit on the bed, creating a little space between us. Then she moved her hands up to the spaghetti straps of the tank top she was wearing and slowly pushed them off of her shoulders. After a few more tantalizing seconds, she pulled the front of her tank top down, simultaneously exposing both of her breasts. To this day, that image is still burned into my retinas. Her breasts were flawless, large and natural, perfect for cupping in your hands, if only that was allowed.