Page 58 of Unleashing Chaos

It’s a lie and the truth. The art stirs something that has sizzled inside me for weeks. Ever since he was there for me when I needed to get away from that club, ever since he took his shirt off that night when I realized I could see into his room, when he almost kissed me. I could go on and on. Every night I dream about touching him, putting my mouth on him, but I’ve stifled that need. But in this place made to intensify desire, I’m all out of fight. I want to know what those fingers will feel like inside me.

I slide my hand between my legs, placing it on top of his. With a racing heart that makes me tremble, I guide him to move my panties to the side. “Please touch me,” I beg.

Jace’s fingers glide through my slick center, and he hisses, “Fuck, Desi.”

The kisses he peppered along my neck and shoulder have turned into sucking and biting. He finds that sensitive part of me that aches for his attention and presses circles to it. Every rotation is gentle and slow but with just enough pressure to have me lifting my hips for more.

I know I should conduct myself like a princess of this realm. But I can’t stop chasing that feeling that makes my skin tingle and the muscles in my abdomen tighten. I want to come apart, even with an audience.

“Please,” is all I can manage. I can’t wait any longer; every nerve ending in my body crackles with pent-up energy, and if he doesn’t give me what I need, I’m going to explode.

Not only that, but I want to touch him. I love the position he has me in, at his mercy, but I want to put my hands on him. I grip his thighs, wishing with everything in me that I could feel his skin under my fingertips.

“What are you begging for, Desideria?” His fingers slow. It feels good, but it’s not enough. Not even close.

“You. I need you to make me come. Don’t tease me anymore, Jace,” I whisper, rolling my head toward his neck, kissing up toward his jawline.

He doesn’t take his gaze away from the violet, pink, and red images. He studies every brush stroke and mimics them between my legs. His free hand slides up my torso, leaving a trail that burns through the thin fabric of my dress. He grips my neck before easing his two middle fingers between my lips. “Suck,” he commands, and the domineering tone in that one word nearly unravels me.

I draw his fingers into my mouth and brush my tongue along the undersides. A moan rumbles in my chest and I suck harder. The strokes under my dress become bolder, faster. His thumb rubs me in a way that my own fingers fail to do, and he dips inside me.

“You’re so warm and tight. Can you do it, little hurricane? Can you come for me like this?”

I groan and nod, tightening around his finger in answer, lifting my hips to push it farther inside me. There is something so damn sexy about the way he’s using me as his canvas to re-create the art that is being fashioned around us, and it makes me feel like the most desirable creature to ever exist.

As he rubs my clit harder, I shift against him, wishing so badly that I could wrap my hand around the length that I feel at the small of my back. I whimper as he stretches me, adding a second finger. Sucking harder, my cheeks hollow out and I fantasize it’s his cock I’ve got my lips wrapped around.

As if she is inspired by the reaction of my body, the sweeps of the artist’s brush move faster and the color shifts from the romantic pastels and reds to bold, bright splatters. My skin pebbles and my core winds tight while chasing the release it so desperately needs.

“That’s it. Let go and come for me,” Jace says, his voice deep and dripping with his own desire.

The longing in his tone is my undoing; I can’t hold back another second. The coil inside me unfurls, my lips parting, his name rolling off my tongue like a prayer. His hand down my neck, across my collarbone, and into my dress. My nipple is already hard, but when his fingertips brush over it, it tightens to the point of pain.

“Jace,” I gasp, lifting my hips and writhing against his hand, losing all regard for where we are and the fact that we aren’t alone. All I care about is chasing the high he’s giving me, giving in to the lust I’ve been feeling for weeks, and basking in the knowledge that he wants me too.

Everything slows and the warmth of the afterglow settles upon me. I turn to my side and rest my head on Jace’s chest, his heart pounding under my ear. He brushes back the damp curls around my face, and I meet his gaze. Holding my stare, he brings the two fingers that filled me to his mouth and sucks them clean.

“Is that what you’ve been chasing after with that drawer full of toys?” he asks.

“Uh, yes. Suffice it to say, I never catch it. Not like that,” I murmur. “Why don’t you let me—”

The clicking of heels echoes through our moment, and I find the beautiful demon placing her sketching device on the hook by the door. She bows her head and says, “You may stay and enjoy my art if you like. Thank you for giving me the inspiration to create it.”

I soak in the final results. She felt the sexual tension between us, and as it mounted, the wild, sexy painting on the walls and ceiling came to life. The art is an expression of exactly what she felt radiating from us.

“You’re welcome. Thank you for sharing it with us,” I say.

“It was my pleasure.”

She slips out of the room, and Jace slides out from behind me and stands. He crams his hands in his pockets and strolls the perimeter of the room, admiring our collaboration with the artist. “Did she physically feel what we did, or is it just the emotion that she could interpret?”

“Just the emotion. Only Lux can tap into someone’s lust in a truly invasive way.”

He continues to walk, and I can’t help but notice the strain of his jeans over his erection. He was just as turned on as I was, yet he never sought his own release. It must be uncomfortable to walk in such a state. I know I can’t stop thinking about how slick my inner thighs are after what happened between us.

I was about to ask if he’d let me touch him when the artist stopped painting and packed up. I wish I had been able to get the words out. Now the spell has been broken.

“That was intense,” I say, walking up beside him, my fingers brushing against his. “I’d heard about how it could affect you, but I’d always thought people were exaggerating.”

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