by Anna Paige
She moaned as I latched onto her throat, nipping and sucking while my hand wedged between us and found her swollen clit. I rubbed it with two fingers and thrust my cock up into her, somehow managing to get even deeper than before.
“Fuck, Ethan, you’re gonna make me come.”
“Good,” I muttered against her throat.
“No, not yet. It’s too good like this. I just want to keep going like this for fucking hours.”
I circled my other arm around her and pressed a finger to her hot, tight ass. “You don’t want more? Harder? Deeper?” I pressed firmly against her opening with my index finger, not going all the way in. “Maybe this?” I pressed more and pulled back before pressing again, gaining a little ground each time.
“Ethan…” she panted, circling her hips again, putting emphasis on the motion that caused her to push against my finger.
“Yes, Miss Emily?” I smirked against her neck, flicking her collarbone with my tongue.
“Please.”
“Please what?” I teased her rear entrance again, almost going all the way past that tight band of muscle, but not quite. “You want it all the way in you, sweetheart? You want me to finger that hot ass?”
“Yes!” She threw her head back again, grinding, mewling, and begging me for what she needed.
I used my other fingers to spread some of her juices from where we were joined to her waiting hole, and then I thrust two fingers hard into her ass, pulling a scream from her that made my ears ring.
I pumped them in and out, matching her rhythm as she rode my cock. My other hand continued its assault on her clit, and I could feel her whole body tensing as her orgasm built.
“Come for me, Emily. Come all over my cock and fingers.”
“Come with me,” she said on a gasp as she slammed hard onto me and ground herself against my cock and the fingers that continued to fuck her ass.
I’d been fighting it for a while, forcing my orgasm down because, like her, I wasn’t ready for it to be over. But hearing those words fall from her swollen lips, lips that had sucked me for what felt like hours before she rolled the condom on—with her lips… There was no way I could fight my orgasm after that.
Two bone-shattering pumps later, we were both gone.
I braced my feet on the floor and thrust up so fucking hard I nearly bucked her off my cock. I stroked her clit furiously with one hand and slammed the fingers of the other deep in her ass as she spasmed around me, my aching balls emptying into her even as we both screamed.
When we’d both recovered and cleaned up, we fell into the bed, exhausted, and she said, “Call that one a draw?”
“No way. You totally screamed your head off.”
“But you screamed loudest and longest,” she argued.
I shook my head. “Bullshit. Guys don’t scream. We groan, grunt, growl, and roar on occasion, but we don’t scream. Besides, my ears are still ringing from that scream you let out when I started fingering your ass.”
She blushed furiously and crossed her arms over her bare breasts. “I still contend that you were louder.”
“Tiebreaker?” I waggled my brows at her, reaching out to skim the back of my hand over her pussy. “Or do you need a breather?”
She reached out and gripped my cock, squeezing it hard in her fist. “I don’t do breathers, remember?”
“Good. Because I’m gonna eat you so fucking good you’ll scream yourself hoarse,” I said, settling between her legs and giving her clit a long slow lick. “There’s gonna be a clear winner this time, sweetheart. And it won’t be you.”
“You gonna talk me to death or use that tongue to win this bet?” She wiggled her hips, all but thrusting into my face until I gave in and sealed my mouth over her.
Fuck, I really was falling in love.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Ethan
“So, about this thing you wanted to show me.”
“I already showed you my thing, several times. And from multiple angles.” I smirked, stroking her back lightly with my fingertips.
She playfully slapped my stomach and the sound echoed through the studio. From somewhere downstairs, Dammit barked in reply.
“I’m being serious, smartass.” Her fingers trailed over the tattoos on my arm, tracing the words and images that intermingled and overlapped each other. Lyrics, song titles, and the TotC logo, just to name a few. In between, there were small nods to my other love, painting. Brushes and watercolor canvases hidden alongside drumsticks and cymbals. She seemed fascinated with it all, so I let her investigate.
“Wait, I thought we’d decided I was a god? What happened to that?”
“You got demoted when you made a joke about your thing, Mister Maturity.”
I had to laugh. “Hey, I never said I was mature. You’ve met my friends.”
“Either way, smartass, are you going to show me whatever it was you were talking about earlier?”
I drew in a breath, a sarcastic comment on the tip of my tongue.
She slapped my stomach again. “And be serious or I won’t let you show me the other thing anymore tonight.”
“Buzzkill.” I kissed the top of her head and grudgingly crawled out of bed, offering her one of my button-down painting shirts to cover up with before slipping my boxer briefs back on.
She left the shirt unbuttoned, and I struggled to concentrate due to the incredible view in the open gap.
“You’re staring,” she said, giving me an exasperated look.
“You’re stunning.”
Her smile was instantaneous, as was the blush that crept up her slender neck. “Flatterer.”
“Nope. I pride myself on my honesty, remember? I don’t say a damn thing I don’t mean.” I stepped closer and trailed my knuckle from the exposed skin between her breasts to the top of her mound. “Stunning,” I breathed against her lips.
She leaned into my mouth, and I gave her the briefest of pecks before pulling away, switching gears so fast I was sure it left her head spinning. “So, this thing I wanted to show you—well, the other thing I wanted to show you—it’s not totally ready, but there’s very little fine-tuning to do before it is. Either way, I’m impatient and decided I had to show you today.”
I tugged the hem of her shirt and motioned for her to follow me to my workstation. Carefully, I lifted the sheet of muslin I’d draped over the canvas while she was out walking the dog, letting it fall to the floor as I flipped on the nearby work lamp.
Emily loudly sucked in a breath, her hand flying to her mouth. “Oh my God! Ethan!” Tears, fat happy ones, welled in her eyes and rolled down her cheeks. “It’s so…”
I moved to put my arm around her, pulling her to my side as I moved us closer so she could see better. I knew when she saw it, when it registered, because she lifted a hand and pointed at the exact spot on the canvas. “That’s the color. The one from the other paintings.”
“I call it Ryan’s red.”
She threw her arms around my neck and crushed me to her. “I love it so much, Ethan. I love knowing that this painting will be a part of both of us forever. That all the things I love about your work were used in this piece that bears my face. Most of all, I love that you made me part of your world, and not just on this canvas.” She kissed me, soft but deep, and when she pulled back there was a sadness in her expression that I didn’t understand. “Today has been the best day. And it’s all because I spent it with you.”
“The day’s not over yet, sweetheart.”
She nodded, brushing her tears away. “No, it’s not.” Her fingers threaded through mine, and she tugged me along behind her, heading back to the bed. “And I intend to enjoy every second we have left.”
Something in the way she said that—the hint of sadness lingering on her gorgeous face—made me wonder if I was missing something, but then she was kissing me again and tugging my underwear off, and the twinge of concern was chased from my mind as I swept her into my arms.
“You sleep. I’ll take him out,” I
told her quietly over the sound of Dammit’s insistent whining from downstairs.
“No. It’s okay; I’ll go.” she muttered sleepily, making no move to get up.
I just chuckled and kissed the top of her head. “I’d rather be the one going out in the middle of the night. You keep my spot warm. I’ll be right back.”
“Mmm hmm…” She didn’t move again while I dressed, so I figured I’d probably be stuck re-warming my spot when I got back. Oh well, there were worse things. Like sleeping alone.
I jumped from the third step, over the end table we’d used to block the stairs and landed on the rug as silently as a ninja. Dammit jumped around my heels, tail wagging.
“You need a bathroom break, buddy? Come on.” I picked up his leash from the coffee table and spent a minute trying to clip it on while he eagerly bounced around on the floor. “Thank goodness no one has put a bell on you. It’d never stop ringing.”
He chuffed happily and led the way to the door. Clearly, he adjusted well to new surroundings. He even seemed happy to see the security guy, who barely cracked a smile at him when he begged for attention.
Hardass.
We hardly made it to the first patch of grass before Dammit let loose with a torrent of pee that I could not believe came from such a small dog. “Poor guy. You must have been ready to pop.” He ignored me and continued flooding the insanely small patch of winter rye that was planted around a streetlamp. “Next time, I’ll make her take a break between innings, so you don’t rupture your poor doggy bladder, okay?”
Still.
Peeing.
Wow.
Thank fuck he’s house-trained, or whoever lives under me would be having a bad night.
When he finally finished, he seemed a little worn out and ready to head back, which I was immeasurably grateful for since I had a smoking-hot woman waiting in my bed.
When we arrived back at the loft, I got him settled into his travel kennel—leaving the door open since I didn’t mind if he roamed—made a huge glass of ice water and headed back to the studio.
I got to the top of the stairs and looked to the bed, finding it empty. I glanced around the darkened room, which was only lit by the moonlight filtering into the high windows, and spotted her at my workstation. She was wearing my shirt again, sitting on the paint-splattered stool I kept around mostly for use as a drink and phone holder since I stood when I worked.
Her fingers traced the air over the painting, just as she’d done the first time she saw it when it was barely more than a sketch. She went over her silhouette again and again, lingering on the red pumps each time. The look on her face…she was transfixed, lost in her own thoughts and feelings about the piece. And maybe about me as the artist.
Or as a man.
I inwardly hoped for the latter.
“Hi,” I quietly said as I made my way over to her.
She didn’t turn but I caught the distinct motion of her brushing away tears. “Hi, yourself.” She sniffed but looked at me with a smile. “Did Dammit behave himself?”
I searched her face for some clue as to what she was thinking, but whatever it was, she was doing her best to hide it. I decided to let it go, for now, and returned her smile, throwing in a chuckle I didn’t mean for good measure. “Oh, yeah. Pretty sure he killed an entire patch of grass in one fell swoop, but he’s good now. Snoozing in his carrier with the door open and some water on standby in case he’s dehydrated now.”
She tipped her head, smiling a smile as fake as mine. “Good. Thank you for doing that.”
“Not a big deal. Besides, this is a strange neighborhood for you. I’d never send you out in it alone at night.”
She stood and pecked me on the cheek, taking my hand as she led us back to the bed. “My hero.”
“You were supposed to keep the hero’s spot warm, woman. Now the whole bed is cold.”
“We can warm it, if you’d like.” She slipped the shirt off her arms and stood in front of me, naked on so many levels as she asked, “Will you make love to me, Ethan?”
Something in her expression made me want to hug her to me, to comfort her for something I wasn’t even able to pinpoint. Instead, I did as she asked. I laid her softly on the bed and spent what felt like days kissing her soft, full lips. I took my time, making sure to hold her gaze as I slid slowly inside her, moving my hips in measured, gentle thrusts that stilled the breath and stopped the heart in their intensity.
I made love to her that night, but more than that, I took the time to make her feel loved, because something was telling me that she needed that far more than a release, though I still gave her a few of those.
And the truth was, I needed it too, more than I could ever articulate.
Maybe I wasn’t comfortable with the thought of being in love with her yet, but there was a fundamental part of me—maybe the most important part—that loved her already. And from the way she looked up at me when I kissed her goodnight, starry-eyed and sated, I dared say she had love for me, too.
That night, for the first time in my life, I fell asleep satisfied and exhausted and loved.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Emily
“Where the hell have you been? Don’t you answer your messages anymore?” Dana squawked into the phone. She was pissed this morning, rightfully so. As two single women in New York, we had a system in place. We touched base every day and at least texted when we got home safely each night.
Only, last night I forgot. And I somehow managed to let my phone die, so I didn’t get any of her messages.
Shit.
“I’m sorry.” I yawned as I scanned over some boring paperwork that Arthur had dumped on my desk. “I stayed at Ethan’s, and my phone got left downstairs.”
“I thought I was going to have to go identify your body somewhere, you asshole! You know the drill. A text, just one, and I could have gotten some sleep last night instead of staying up worrying about your whore ass. And what were you doing? Huh? Banging the drummer! That’s adding insult to injury!” She blew out a breath and switched straight from pissed to nosy. “So, was he good? I hear drummers have great rhythm.”
I glanced around, finding myself blissfully alone for the moment. “And he hit it just right every time.”
“Bitch.”
“I really am sorry.”
“You better be. And you tell drummer boy that if you disappear on me again, I’m calling him out as a likely suspect on the front steps of the Times.”
“Tell him yourself on Thursday.” I chuckled.
“That reminds me, should I bring an extra pie? I don’t know his appetite, so I thought maybe more is better.”
“He does like to eat…”
“I hate you.”
“You love me.”
“Till death, you horrible, horrible, drummer-banging, non-texting pain in my ass.”
“Oh, Thursday! I forgot!”
“Forgot what? You’re not ditching me, are you?”
“No, fool. But we’ve got a change of venue. I’m cooking at Ethan’s so there’s room for the rest of the band.”
She sucked in loudly. “The whole band? Don’t toy with me, bitch.”
“I’m serious. The entire band will be there, plus Aubrey, Kade’s wife. And you, of course.”
“Ho. Lee. Shit.” She blew out the breath she’d so dramatically sucked in. “I’m definitely going to need more pies. Lots more pies.”
“Then quit bitching me out and get ta baking, heifer.”
“Pumpkin, apple, chocolate silk, pecan…what else? Any requests?”
“One request.”
“What?”
“Do not under any circumstances bang Lennox Reid.”
She didn’t balk, which surprised me. Lennox was kind of obnoxious, but he was also hot as fuck, just like the rest of them. Seriously, every damn one of them was gorgeous. It was insane. “Are the others fair game? Maybe this girl wants to get flung, too. You ever think of that?”
“Get yoursel
f flung elsewhere, wench. Not kidding.”
“Buzzkill.”
“You’re not the first to call me that lately.”
“That’s because it’s true. I’ve got to go. Call me after work,” she said in a singsong voice before hanging up.
I just shook my head and went back to my paperwork, torn between worrying about Dana and feeling sorry for those poor guys, who had no idea what they’d be in for with her.
Either way, it would be a Thanksgiving to remember.
It was almost time to leave for the day when Niko strolled in, looking even more tanned than he had the last time he was there, which meant he’d been traveling again.
“Bonjour!” He grinned, his long coat flapping behind him as he strode across the room, making a beeline for me and ignoring Arthur completely. “I’m just in from Paris for a couple of days and thought I would check on my favorite assistant curator. How are things, Emily?”
He took my hand and covered it with both of his.
“I’m good, Niko. Thanks for asking. The provenances for the pieces you picked up in Prague just came in, and I’ve been doing some cataloging that was pushed back because of preparations for the Conspicuous exhibit.”
“Ah, Conspicuous. So glad you mentioned him.” He eyed me in that shark-like way I hated. “Have we gotten the signed contracts from him yet?”
“Most likely, everything will have to wait until after the holidays because of his schedule, but he’s assured me it’s being handled as soon as possible. We’re staying in contact, and I should know more soon.”
I didn’t mention just how in contact Conspicuous and I really were, but I decided that was no one’s business but Ethan’s and mine.
Niko said nothing for a while, and I began to fidget under his intense stare. Finally, he smiled a similarly creepy smile that didn’t reach his dark eyes and nodded. “Excellent. I’m pleased with your continued attention on this important business matter.” He emphasized the word business in a deliberate way that set my teeth on edge.
For some reason, I felt like I’d just been warned.
