He moved forward and pulled the silky material down my shoulder, placing his hot mouth against my neck. I cried out and reached down, wrapping my hand as far around his cock as I could. The sound of his deep groan gave me shivers. He grasped my wrists and pinned them behind my back, devouring the skin at my neck and shoulder, nipping my collarbone, running his warm tongue down the trail of my jaw. My chest rose and fell rapidly.
In a quick motion he was on the bed, grabbing me around the waist, lifting me, and pulling me to straddle his face. He shoved the material of my dress up and held it around my hips.
Oh, yes. His tongue delved into my core, all hot softness, and he squeezed my thighs as I moved against him. I circled my hips so that I felt the scruff of his chin against my most tender parts, then the sensitive nub of my clit. When I vocalized my pleasure, he lifted my hips and spun me to face the rest of his body in a sixty-nine position. The dress pooled silkily around my waist.
I immediately went down, taking as much of him as possible in my hands and mouth. He groaned loudly against my thighs and raised his hips to meet the bobbing of my head. Then his attention went back to his mouth on me. I squirmed a little when he reached up and kissed the bud of my anus, flicking his tongue against that dreaded hole, and shocking me by sending a delicious throb up into my belly.
His mouth ventured back down and attached over my clit, sucking and flicking at the button of nerves as I moaned, taking him deeper, pushing his head to slide against the back of my throat as I kept my hands squeezing and pumping at his base. All at once we were both crying out, tensing, pleasure rippling through our joined bodies. His hot come shot into my mouth and I swallowed the waves as they came.
I was so sensitive, quivering deep inside in a way that told me I could come again and again if he were to be inside me. But he made no attempt. His body went lax beneath me.
I climbed off him and kept my distance. It wasn’t unheard of for a patron to want to cuddle, or fall against me like a pillow, but most of them didn’t want to be touched afterward. I prepared myself to ask the dreaded question of whether I should stay or go, but Mr. Douglas spoke first.
He lay there breathing hard, his eyes closed, hands on his abdomen. “You will stay with me tonight. Aye?”
“Sí, Se?or,” I whispered. Inside I was jubilant. I allowed myself to lay back, momentarily spent, and closed my eyes.
A moment later I heard him say, “Don’t move.”
I stayed still, but cracked my eyelids. He was staring down at me, a sort of wild look in his eyes. His gaze raked me up and down, and he slid quickly off the bed, rushing to his easel and propping up a blank canvas.
Was he going to paint me? Goose bumps sprang to life across my skin. The thought of his artistic eyes all over me…immortalizing me. Shit. It made me want to cry. Standing there naked, he practically fumbled the paints in his hurry to get them open, as if the sight of me would somehow disappear. I tried to imagine myself. My hips were twisted, one knee falling across the other. The loose silk of my black dress was around my stomach. It still clung to one shoulder, but drooped lower on the other side around my elbow, revealing one taut breast. One of my hands was draped over my waist, and the other was lazily flung over my head. My hair was pretty much everywhere. The silver-gray covers were bunched up around me. But he seemed to be seeing so much more than all that, and that’s what made me emotional.
I swallowed it down and lay very still, letting this strange, confusing, alluring man paint me.
She was fucking extraordinary.
Colin hadn’t come to the villa seeking a muse, although that had been the ruse. He hadn’t expected to experience any true inspiration. It was a fucking job. But every moment there, every moment with this girl, was a surprise. This place dug into his depths and unearthed urges and emotions he never allowed to surface. He felt it all here. With her.
His hand stilled on the canvas as he watched her eyes flutter closed, and with a jolt she opened them again. Shite…how long had he been at it? Hours?
“Close your eyes,” he ordered her. “Rest.”
She complied, immediately falling into a deep breathing pattern. Awhile later she shifted in her sleep, but that was okay, because every detail was engrained in his mind. Every curve, angle, shadow, and color. At some point during the night he finished. His eyes were drooping as he climbed into the bed. When he pushed back the covers Angela must have felt the movement because she wiggled and burrowed under as well. Colin flicked off the light and they both slept soundly with a sliver of moonlight spilling over them through the balcony door.
It wasn’t the sun that woke Colin the next morning. It was Angela’s soft, perfect arse nuzzling against his morning wood under the soft sheets. His sleepy eyes cracked open to find the girl still half-asleep, her eyes closed. She moaned, feeling for his hand, finding it, and pulling it over her breast. When he squeezed it must have fully woken her because she gasped in alarm and tried to turn, saying, “Lo siento, Se?or!” What the hell was she apologizing for? Her forwardness? Colin felt a stab of anger at anyone who’d be such a prick.