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He paints a picture with his words that’s just as vivid as anything he puts on canvas, and I find myself breathing hard, the distraction I was after not exactly working. The passion in his voice is just turning me on even more.
“How did you get from that to paint and canvas?” I ask, Dante’s eyes snapping up to meet mine at the husky, needy tone.
“I was hooked,” he says, his hooded gaze making me even hotter. “I didn’t want to wait for another kill to make that kind of art again, so I went out and bought some supplies. Started fucking around with them, and…”
He ends it with a shrug, gesturing around to all the canvases displayed and stacked in the room.
I laugh, shaking my head in awe of him. “You’re really good for having gotten your start just ‘fucking around.’ Every one of your paintings feels like an explosion of raw emotion, like I can’t help but feel things when I look at them. They move me.”
He grins. “I like that, princess. And you know, it’s probably the same with you and your dancing. You didn’t have formal training, right? But you got good at it because you loved it, and since you loved it, you wanted to do it all the time.”
I sigh, his words pulling up a different kind of emotion. “Yeah. I… miss it, you know? Not dealing with drunk shit heads. I don’t need an audience or anything. But the dancing itself was a way to just let myself go. Nothing else is like it.”
“Ain’t that the truth,” he says, his eyes boring into me with an intensity that has a flood of heat rushing through my core.
I press my thighs together, clenching my inner muscles with a little gasp, and Dante’s eyes burn even hotter.
“None of that, princess,” he says. “You need to stay still for me. Spread those pretty thighs wide and show me what you’ve got for me.”
“Fuck, Dante,” I gasp, hating him for the torture a little as I do it. The kind of hate that I’d really love him to fuck right out of me.
He grins again, a dirty promise on his face as he goes back to painting. “Seeing you on that pole for the first time was sexy as hell. Like you said, there’s nothing else like it. The way you wrapped your legs around it was all about your pleasure, not the assholes watching you. That was crystal fucking clear, and it made me want to pull you right off that stage and let you wrap those thighs around me instead.”
“You did,” I remind him, squirming despite my best intentions as my arousal starts to peak again.
“The fuck I did,” he says, his eyes glued to the canvas. “I didn’t get my cock inside you until you finished on that stage, but what I wanted to do was bend you over it with all those colored lights playing over your skin. Eat that sweet pussy of yours that you kept teasing us with until you screamed louder than that beat they had playing. Let you dance on my tongue for a while and then show me how fucking good you are at riding a pole by impaling you on mine.”
“Shit,” I whimper, arching off the couch as I dig my fingers into it to keep from touching myself.
“What’s wrong, princess?” he asks with an evil grin. “Having trouble holding still for me?”
“You know what’s fucking wrong,” I pant, my inner thighs slick with my arousal as I clench my muscles, forcing myself not to squeeze them together because the cocky asshole told me not to.
Because Iwantto be on display for him.
Because even though holding still is the opposite of dancing, the feeling I miss—letting myself go to the music, letting it take control and move me—is a hell of a lot like the feeling I get when I submit myself to Dante’s demands. To Maddoc’s and Logan’s too.
I trust them to move me, manhandle me, or hold me down, and it’s exactly the same kind of rush as surrendering to the beat of the music and putting my body under its command. It’s addicting.
“Touch yourself,” Dante says, his brush moving languidly across the canvas in front of him as he rakes me with a possessive look. “But don’t come, don’t even fucking think about it, princess. Not until I say so.”
“Asshole,” I pant, shoving my hand between my legs so fast my head spins.
Dante chuckles. “I definitely won’t say no to some back door action, but we’ll play with that another time, princess. Right now, just finger yourself for me. Make yourself feel good. Get that pussy ready for what I’m going to give it.”
I want to glare at him, but his dirty talk is turning me on too much for that. Instead, I do what he said and grind the heel of my hand against my clit, squeezing my legs together and half expecting him to tell me I have to spread them again so he can get a good view.
Hell, not just expecting him to… wanting him to.
Or else wanting him to make me.
“Play with those hot little tits for me too,” he says instead, his voice husky and low as he watches me. “Don’t get greedy and give it all to your pussy.”
“Both,” I gasp, doing what he says and using one hand to roughly squeeze my breasts the way I really fucking wish he would right now. “I can do both.”
“Prove it.”
I dip between my thighs and thrust three of my fingers inside myself, letting my head fall against the back of the couch as I fuck myself on them until I’m shaking with the need to come, pinching my nipples so hard that the pain spikes down to my core and almost tips me over.
