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“Turn around.” I make a circling motion with my finger.
“Why?” she asks, her eyes flashing.
The corners of my lips lift into a smirk. How quickly can I distract her from starting that portrait? “I want to see if you’re wearing panties.”
She shifts her weight from side to side and fidgets with her hands. Her throat bobs, and her nipples poke through the heavy fabric. “What the hell is your problem?”
My smile broadens. Emberly is adorable when she’s flustered.
“Are you thinking about that orgasm I gave you yesterday, because I didn’t wash my hands last night.” I bring my fingers to my nose and groan.
Her jaw drops, and she breathes hard through parted lips. She takes several moments to regain her composure before gesturing to my clothes. “You’re supposed to be wearing a suit. How can I paint a business portrait when you’re all hot and sweaty from a run?”
“Want me to go back and change?” I hook a thumb over my shoulder.
All traces of her discomfort morph into a scowl that rivals the goddess of wrath. “So you can find some pressing business issue and disappear?” she snaps. “No way. I’ll just have to sketch you nude.”
My brows rise. “You want me to strip?”
“Yes,” she says. “Take it all off.”
“Can you handle me naked, baby?” I lower my voice, watching her shiver.
Her gaze leaves mine, and she waves me to a chair. “Artists see nude men all the time. It’s called life drawing.”
Annoyance flares across my skin at the thought of her sketching other men. I consider asking her what else these models do for her when she picks up a stick of charcoal and disappears behind her huge canvas.
I set my gun and phone on the floor, toe off my sneakers, and kick them aside. As I peel off my clothes, my cock decides now is the time to compete with those naked men.
Emberly pokes her head out from the other side of the canvas and stares at my dick.
“What are you doing?” she whispers.
“Making myself comfortable.” I lower myself into the seat and cup my erection.
She walks out from behind her canvas, clutching her stick of charcoal so tightly that it looks on the verge of snapping. Her breaths quicken as she continues to glare at my cock.
It lengthens and hardens under her attention and produces a bead of precum. Maybe it’s still mad at me for not fucking Emberly against the wall when I had the chance. Maybe the horny bastard knows her days are numbered and wants to make the most of the time she has left.
Whatever its reason for saluting, I do nothing to stop its progress. If I can’t distract Emberly with innuendo, maybe she’ll appreciate a show.
“If you’re not careful, that will end up in the painting,” she says, her voice distant.
“Then why don’t you get closer and take a better look?”
She disappears behind her canvas without another word and scribbles, but the thought of her studying any part of my anatomy makes my blood heat.
I stare at Emberly’s feet. They’re pretty, with beautifully shaped toes unadorned with polish. My cock surges at the thought of them running up and down its shaft. I let my gaze wander up her delicate ankles and lean calves, which move around while she sketches.
It’s almost like a dance.
Does she need to relieve some of that pressure on her pussy?
Her feet pirouette as she peeps out for a glance at my body, and I ache for the chance to see what she looks like as she creates her art.
Without thinking, I rise off my seat and walk around the canvas to examine her work. Her charcoal strokes are delicate, capturing my body’s silhouette.
“Nice work,” I say.
