Page 30 of Finally, His

She drank in the icy blue sky that seemed to float perpetually in Alexander’s eyes. They were the most alive eyes she’d ever seen.

To think she and Alexander had been separated for decades until a few years ago. How had she survived that time? How had she breathed?

Perhaps that was why she’d always been so tired back then. Her energy had had a singular purpose during those lonely years: Don’t think about Alexander. Now, that was all she did. Thought about him—and Eric, who only had his legs visible behind the wide canvas on which he painted.

Any women’s magazine would tell you never to make men the center of your life. But those editors had never met those two men.

“Steady,” Alexander’s voice rumbled.

Her knees had begun to quiver. They would. The love of her life stood before her, had taken her to the precipice of coming many times over the last forty-eight hours—but not allowed her to release.Steadywasn't possible.

First, he'd denied her an orgasm last night. Then in his office. Then after one orgasm, he brought her up to the precipice again in the limousine. They circled the Capitol Buildingsixteen times(yes, she’d counted) before they were back where they started—at Club Accendos. Though, that time, in their private rooms upstairs. Instead of finishing her, Alexander delayed again. He wanted Eric to paint her portrait first.

Alexander glanced down at the canvas that blocked most of Eric from her sight. Only his legs showed—bare legs. Of course, he hadn’t allowed the man to wear a stitch of clothing as he painted her portrait. She imagined his cock standing at full attention behind that canvas. The thought only made her thighs wetter.

Alexander murmured. “Beautiful choice of color.” She didn’t know if he referred to what he saw in the picture or Eric.

Great. Now, she could only think of Eric's incredible body. Men. They only got hotter with age.

The silver had deepened at Alexander’s temples and around that magnificent organ, unavailable to her right now. But the lines around his forehead and eyes had softened since the day she’d reconnected with him.

Focus, she reminded herself. Stop thinking about the past.

Eric made an unhappy sound, a kind of deep grunt as if displeased about something. Her belly jumped a little. Perhaps he wasn’t inspired by her like that—splayed out, available.

“Everything okay?” She couldn’t help but ask the question.

Neither man answered. Instead, Alexander placed his large hand on Eric’s shoulder, and the man’s legs quivered. She didn’t need to see him to see how his whole body might be trembling.

Alexander moved to stand behind him. He was so tall that his head rose above the canvas perched on the easel, but the bulk of him vanished behind the picture. A long moan came out of Eric, and his legs shot out straight as if jolted with electricity. What were they doing back there?

“Rebecca, stay where you are.” Alexander knew her so well, knew her urge to jump off the small chaise to do just that.

A small grumble came out of Eric, followed by soft thumps. It was the sound of flesh being batted about. Her imagination fired. Alexander was teasing him. Maybe torturing him.

Alexander’s head reappeared as he straightened. His blue eyes met hers as his gaze honed on her anew. “Much better. Eric now matches you in that gorgeous color.”

Alexander emerged from behind the canvas and was at her feet in two strides. He smiled down at her. “Now, how about a little inspiration for Eric?To keep him standing tall? Touch yourself.”

He spun on his heel and seated himself in a chair next to where Eric worked.

She brought her dominant hand between her legs.

“No, your other hand.”

Oh great. It would take her twice as long if she had to use her left. Then again, she had been in this position for so long that her fingers were practically numb. Anyone who’d ever sat for a painting knew fifteen minutes could seem like fifteen hours. But she did what he asked, so grateful that he would allow herself to finally come.

She quickened her fingers, eager for a release.

Alexander leaned farther back into his chair. “Tell me when you’re close.”

Damn it. She’d be told to stop again, wouldn’t she?

Within minutes, her body was on that edge, that glorious spot where you knew you were about to come. And whether strong or weak, a beautiful release of tension would follow.

But she was a good girl. At least, she tried to be.

Ha, girl. At her age?

Source: www.allfreenovel.com