“Girl, that art is something else. It’s so sensual and erotic. And those leather pieces? I’ve never seen anything like them before.”
Turning at the sound of her voice, I smile at Lara. She’s home from her residence in Sweden for a few days, and last night all the girls had dinner where Lara gushed about work, her new book, and, of course, how in love she was with Sloane. “You like them?”
“I love them. I may need one to hang in our bedroom. The one where the man’s hands are around the woman’s throat, and his thumb is in her mouth. Jesus. I think I need that for my office.”
I laugh at her bright pink cheeks, set against her face full of freckles. We are just a bunch of blushing women around here. And who can blame her? Sloane Alexander fits right in with the other men in our lives. We’ve all heard tales of how he used Lara’s antique desk, with her on it, naked, to teach Lara’s ex a lesson about neglecting a woman’s needs. I’m all for her hanging semi-erotic art in her office. I know a thing or two about it since I can’t stop drawing, painting, or sculpting one particular man’s chest, arms, face, legs, and yes, dick. His dick has become one of my favorite subjects. Getting all those piercings just right takes practice and a lot of close-up inspection. I bite my lip to keepfrom moaning aloud. I can’t wait to taste him. It’s been way too long. With that thought in mind, I turn and look back down the street. Still no sign of him.
“Aren’t you coming inside?”
Lara’s question interrupts my train of thought. “I will in a little bit. Just waiting.”
Lara nods and heads back inside, where Sloane is holding open the door for her. Once she reaches him, he slides his big hand over her ass, slapping it before kissing her mouth. She stands on tiptoes in her funky polka dot heels and returns the carnal kiss. Lucky. I should be getting my ass slapped, but the hand I want slapping me is late; over an hour late. I dial his phone, and still no answer.
Hanging up, I blink when I see one car I recognize pull into the parking lot. My brother slows his jeep, opens the driver’s side door, and climbs out. His gait barely shows that he’s wearing his prosthetic. He looks fit and healthy. He is still struggling with his injury and the accident that killed his friends, but I’m glad that working as the new CEO of our father’s company is giving him back purpose and drive. What does surprise me is when a beautiful blonde woman with a flirty bob climbs out of the passenger seat. Adam scowls when he rounds the engine. He says something I can’t hear to her, but the gorgeous woman shrugs and casually walks ahead of him right into my gallery. Adam’s hands are clenched, but I see the way he stares at her ass in that tight gray skirt. Interesting, as Jace would say. I think it’s his Administrative Assistant, Johanna. Jace did say Adam is not happy with her working for him. I wonder why. I love my brother, but his grouchy attitude could probably use some adjustment.
The sound of a bike makes my body shiver, and I crane my neck. He’s home. Disappointment fills me when I see that it’s Onyx riding down the street, followed by Riggs with Jacquelineriding on the back of his bike. Her hands are wrapped around his waist, and his hand is on her thigh. She promised to share what happened with her and Riggs while they were hunting for Kami, but so far, she’s been MIA.
My shoulders slump when I don’t see another bike. Fuck. He must have gotten delayed. I take out my phone and call him, antsy, but it goes right to voicemail.
“Shit.”
I head back inside, where most of the guests are waiting, moving to the reception desk. Everyone is milling around, looking at the art. Art critics are here. Members of his club are here. Jace and Sophia are here, with Jace holding baby Valentina strapped to his chest. Dru and Silas are walking around, and Dru is pointing at the paintings and nodding her head while Silas is shaking his.
My father is even here. I can’t tell what he’s thinking, but when he showed up and nodded at me as he walked through the gallery, I took that to mean that maybe, finally, he was accepting that this was my life. Either way, I’m over trying to please him. He can think of me anyway he wants. I no longer care about his approval.
“The artist is incredible.”
Alejandra Muñoz lifts her glass of champagne and watches me. “I want at least three in my house as soon as possible. Christ it’s good. Like Brom but even more sensually morbid.”
Thrilled, I hold in my need to do a twirl. “Which three?”
“Succubus, Cherry Smoke and Phoenix’s Passion.”
I smirk because those three are my favorites, too. Each one is of me. Drawn with a particular moment with Stone in mind. “Those are good. You’d better hurry. I think someone else has their eye on Cherry Smoke,” I murmur. Sophia has already claimed that she wants it, despite Jace’s protest. I still chuckleat the memory of his response. “It’s alluding to my sister getting smoke blown up her–”
“Pussy?” Sophia asked innocently as she helped me hang the art.
“No! Don’t say it!” Jace looked green and shook his head violently as he practically ran out of the gallery.
I laughed so hard I almost peed. When I had wiped my tears, Sophia leaned in. “Did he really blow the smoke inside you and then eat you out?”
I nodded, smiling dreamily at the painting where the woman’s legs were open, held in place by a set of veiny hands. His fingers dig into the skin of her inner thighs. There’s an illusion that the female’s hands are playing with her pussy. The smoke curls between her legs, acting as a screen. I’ll never forget it.
“Don’t you dare accept any other offers but mine.”
Alejandra’s voice breaks through the sensual fog in my head. “We’ll se–”
A low rumble ends my response. It ignites everything inside me, and I turn away from her and move through the crowd, ignoring all the whispered accolades on the art as I pick up my long black skirt and rush out the gallery door to catch the moment Stone pulls into our shared parking lot. He parks and revs the engine.
I walk toward him slowly, my whole body vibrating from the loud roar of his bike. I can’t see his face behind his dark black helmet that covers his entire face, but I can feel him staring. I can feel those dark eyes trailing over my body. He’s waiting, and like the loadstone he is, I keep walking until I’m so close I can smell the pungent, chemical odor of the exhaust. My chest heaves as he pulls off his helmet. His face comes into view. The bristles of his beard are longer. He looks tired, and my fingers itch to comb through his stubble, but I wait, remembering hiswarning about me not getting too close since the muffler is so hot. I wait, jittery with desire.
He climbs off, puts down the kickstand, and rests his helmet on the seat. I don’t move an inch. He moves in my direction in that sexy panther way of his, and arousal swamps my body, but I’m annoyed with him, too.
“You’re late,” I pant, when he steps close enough that my nipples brush the lower part of his chest. His dick grazes my belly and feels like the bottom drops out. I’m wet, my arousal sliding down my inner thigh. I purposely left off my underwear when I got dressed hours ago, preparing for the moment he showed up. I’d planned to drag him upstairs and sit on his lap the moment he appeared. I lick my lower lip, and he watches the movement.
“Am I? Seems like I’m right on time.”
A ringed finger trails down my face, pushing my hair away from my cheek. Shudders rack my body, and I lean into him, standing on tiptoes until I’m near his ear. “I’m barely holding on, Stone. I need you to hold me.”
