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“You can’t undress someone who’s already naked,” she says, her words quickening.
“So, you admit to objectifying my cock?”
Her scowl deepens. “You’re objectifying yourself.”
My strokes quicken. My balls tighten, and the pressure builds. The only thing more beautiful than seeing Emberly when she’s pissed is watching her lose control. It should be her grabbing at my cock with her delicate fingers, begging me to paint the canvas of her face with my cum.
“No wonder they locked you up,” she mutters. “That thing should be illegal.” Despite her protests, she edges closer, her eyes never leaving my shaft.
The sight of her desperate for a front-row view ignites a fuse that makes my balls explode. I climax so hard that my body seizes with shudders. Spurt after spurt of warm cum splatters over my abs and reaches my chest. Some of the droplets even hit my chin.
Emberly clenches her legs so tightly that it looks like she’s trying to stem her arousal. Maybe I could have convinced her to let me take her on the floor or against the wall, but I can’t give her everything she wants.
There’s no telling how long it will take Leroi to kill her half-brother and move her up to becoming her father’s sole heir. I need to keep her distracted and off-balance until then.
As long as she’s frustrated, confused, and aching for my touch, she won’t think about portraits, fake ID, or leaving.
I rise off my seat and walk toward her, my ego thrumming at how she shrinks into her canvas.
“What are you doing?” she shrieks.
“Getting cleaned up. Feel free to join me in the shower if you need a helping hand.” I throw a smirk over my shoulder. “Or if you want something longer and thicker.”
She stares after me through wide eyes, her chest rising and falling as though deciding whether to jump on my back or tackle me to the floor.
Bring it on, Emberly Kay.
I will fuck you against the bathroom wall until you pass out.
TWENTY-TWO
EMBERLY
I can’t move, I can’t think, I can’t do anything but stare after Roman’s broad back. My mouth hangs open, and I’ve stopped breathing. The pulse between my legs pounds so hard that its vibrations travel down to my toes. What the hell just happened and how on earth did I lose control of the situation so quickly?
He was supposed to sit for a portrait. I even woke up extra early in case he arrived while I was asleep. I thought I’d prepared myself for anything that could go wrong, but nothing prepared me for this. Now, all I can think about is how his muscles tightened as that huge cock erupted fountains of creamy, pearlescent cum.
This is the first time I’ve seen him truly naked, and he’s glorious. He makes Michelangelo’s David look emaciated. That first night we fucked, it was from behind with him mostly clothed. I got to see his chest during the second round, but I’d been drunk and unable to appreciate his perfect physique.
His invitation to join him in the shower echoes through my ears, picking up volume with each frantic breath.
I’m so tempted.
Yesterday, when he made me climax on his fingers, there was a part of me that wanted more. I wanted him to throw me down on the destroyed mattress and take out his fury by pounding into me so hard that I would see heaven.
Instead, he swept me off my feet and brought me to an art studio beyond my wildest dreams. He’s made up for every dismal birthday and underwhelming Christmas in a ridiculously sexy package.
Roman Montesano isn’t anything like I expected. I thought he would be a ruthless gangster who treated women like objects or cattle to be sold in the skin trade, but I couldn’t be more wrong. In between his playfulness, there’s a softer side that only wants me to be safe and content.
I walk over to the chair, gather his phone, shoes, clothes, and gun, and carry them into the bedroom in case he wants to get dressed after getting clean. Each step sends friction against my aching clit that makes my skin tingle with need.
Maybe I should surprise him in the shower and order him to get on his knees. A giggle bursts through my chest. Roman is extremely talented with his tongue.
Or maybe not.
He’d only distract me with orgasms, then lay me on the bed and we’d fuck until he runs out of time for the portrait or I’m too satiated to care. I shake off thoughts of sex and focus on my goal.
All I need now are a few sketches of Roman’s face before I even consider putting paint on the canvas, so it’s best for me to wait for him in the studio.
