Page 10 of Claiming His Muse

“Don’t feel stupid,” Jenny says. “I was kind of antagonizing you on purpose. Your jealousy was… cute.”

“As long as you think it’s cute, I guess I don’t mind.” I reach out to tuck a lock of golden hair behind her ear. “If we’re being honest, I haven’t stopped thinking about asking you out since the first time I saw you. I was actually planning on introducing myself, but you got out of the studio before I had the chance.”

“I had a class I had to get to,” she says, blushing furiously.

“It’s a good thing I decided to sit in on another class to talk to you then, huh?” I ask, the words only making her blush even deeper.

“So you didn’t want to paint me?”

“Oh, no. I did,” I assure her. “It’s just… I had other reasons, too. Part of me knew that if we were meant to be, things would work out. I couldn’t stand the idea of you being with someone else in the meantime. So I pulled some strings to try to make things happen.”

“Well, I’m glad you did,” she says quietly, looking at me through her lashes. “When I saw you at that second session, I was working up the courage to talk to you the entire time. I’m not sure what I would have said. I’m not really good with words.”

I chuckle and shake my head as I say, “Now we both know that’s not true. Your writing is beautiful.”

“I’m better with written words,” she says. “I’ve never really been much of a talker.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that,” I say.

“Like the poem I wrote for you,” she says. “I… I didn’t know how to say it, so I wrote it.”

“I think I feel the same,” I tell her. “Those roots you’re talking about. I want to nurture them. I want to see what grows.”

“Blake…” she murmurs, tears collecting in those gorgeous, gorgeous eyes.

I set the notebook on the counter gently before stepping in close. She looks up at me with a serene expression, leaning in expectantly. Softly, I cup her jaw, stroking it gently with my thumb. Then I bring our mouths together.

The first touch of our lips sends an electric shock through my body. Jenny must feel it too, because she drapes her arms around my neck and presses our fronts together. I inhale sharply and press my tongue against her mouth.

She opens up to me, allowing me entry and whimpering softly. The noise goes straight to my dick, and I start to get hard against her. It’s only a matter of time before she can feel it, and I find myself not caring if she does. If she’ll let me, I plan on letting her really feel it.

I run my hands down her sides, stopping when I reach the hem of her dress. Then, slow enough that she can tell me to stop if she wants, I lift the fabric. Hooking my thumbs in the elastic of her panties, I shove them down while her hands go to the front of my jeans, unfastening them in an effort to get to my dick.

Chapter 8

Jenny

Now that we’ve confessed, things are moving fast, but not fast enough for me. I want Blake. I want all of him as soon as I can get him. So I strip him of his pants and underwear in one smooth motion.

He chuckles against my mouth before pulling away and lifting my dress over my head. It hits the floor with a dull thud, and I’m left standing in nothing but a bra. That gives Blake pause. He stops, taking in my nearly-nude appearance with hungry eyes. In turn, I stare at his long, hard, perfect cock. I want to get my hands on it, but as I’m reaching out, his voice stops me.

“I know it’s nothing I haven’t seen before,” he says, low and hot, “but I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of looking at you.”

I giggle, glancing down at my body and back to him. I reach behind my back, fingering my bra strap, then mutter, “I want to see all of you.”

Blake chuckles before taking his shirt off and tossing it onto the floor with my dress and panties. He grins at me and says, “Your turn.”

Without any hesitation, I unclasp my bra, letting it fall to the floor. Now that we’re both naked, the air grows thick with anticipation. His gaze makes me feel like I’m on fire in the best way. I wish I had the words to move this along.

I must not need them, because after a beat, Blake’s mouth is on mine again. This time, he kisses me harder than before. There’s an undercurrent of desperation in the slide of lips. The same feeling grips at me, and I wonder if he can tell, if my need is just as palpable as his.

“Bedroom,” he says, pulling away and looking down at me with fire in his eyes. “Where’s your bedroom?”

“Down the hall,” I reply, going in for another kiss.

“Which door?” he mumbles, his lips still insistent against mine.

“First one on the right. It’s still op–”

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