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“That’s my Hellie,” he says as his fingers find my arousal. “Oh, I knew it.”
“Shut up,” I say, groaning. It feels so fucking good. I arch my back, just a little, lifting my hips to give him a better angle.
He teases my clit, rubs my lips, slides his fingers deep inside. His other hand grabs my hair and I gasp in surprise.
“I want to take care of you, Hellie, in every way you need. If I don’t do it, nobody else will.”
“Take care of yourself. Seriously, go over in the corner, whip out your cock, and take care of yourself. Leave me out of it.”
“You want to watch while I stroke myself?” His fingers slide deeper. His grip on my hair tightens. My hips raise up—magically, all by themselves, I swear I’m not doing anything at all—and he’s fucking me with that lovely hand of his. “You want to finish yourself off at the same time as I come? I’ll lick your fingers clean and you can lick mine.”
“Uh,” I say, sucking in air. “Fuck, that’s hot and I hate you a little bit for putting it in my head.”
“We can do that. Or I can keep going until you come. Do you want to come for me, Hellie?”
“Yes,” I gasp, and he’s going faster now. “Yes, I want to come, I want to come,yes.” My hips are moving, bucking against his fingers, bliss ripping into my body. “Fuck yes, fuck yes, don’t stop.”
I come against his hand, his other fist gripping my hair tight, pulling back as the orgasm slams into my core, ripping into my brain. I come hard, gasping, moaning, my pussy a soaking wet bomb of desire against his palm.
He pulls his hand away and I collapse onto my belly, still twitching from the after-effects.
“That’s my girl,” he says, pulling the blankets back and covering me. He stands near the bed, licking his fingers clear, as I cuddle against a pillow, feeling like my body’s made of clay. “Go to sleep, get some rest. I’ll wake you up soon.”
“Then I paint for you some more?”
“Yes, devil girl, you paint for us both. Go to sleep.”
He disappears. The lights turn out.
Asshole doesn’t have to tell me twice—I go to sleep.
Chapter15
Hellie
Ifinish around four in the afternoon on the third day.
I’m fried. My head hurts. My eyes are like swollen balloons. My hands are cramping, and there’s paint everywhere, staining my clothes, my skin. I sit cross-legged on top of the work table in the center of the room looking from the reference book to my finished piece, back and forth, back and forth, for almost an hour.
“It’s not perfect,” I tell him. Erick’s standing nearby and hasn’t said a word since he found me like this. I didn’t want to engage him, not yet, but at this point there’s not much more I can do. “If I had more time, I could get it there. Another week, and I think I could make the details perfect, assuming you could get me a better picture to go off. But it’s finished.”
He steps forward, coming into view. I watch him, heart beating hard, surprised by how much I want him to approve of this.
I don’t need him to like it, or at least I shouldn’t. I think of my father, during one of our little excursions together, this one much more recently, only three years ago.Don’t care what other people say about you, Heloise. You have a gift. And you’re an Accardi. We don’t give a shit what anyone thinks. I thought he was being stupid at the time, because obviously we care, but I’ve held on to that piece of advice. It’s a strange thing, not caring—it’s armor against the world, a strange kind of confidence.
“I love it,” he says.
I let out a long breath. “Really?”
“I’m serious.” He steps closer, squinting. “I can’t tell the difference between yours and the book. God, even the back wall, all the little dark and light patches, it’s identical.”
“You have no idea how long that took me.”
“You did this in three days.” He shakes his head, looking truly mystified, and a satisfied smile crosses my lips. I try to hide it, but shit. I’m proud of this. That’s okay.
“Will it be enough for your partners?”
He turns to me, expression smoldering. Uh-oh, I know that look, it’s the same look he gave me before he massaged my back then fucked my pussy with his fingers.
