Page 119 of If You Give an Artist a Killer Muse

And then I died again.

Okay, I didn’t. I sometimes wish I did, though.

But right now?

No.

Because Rurik is the one kissing me again, he came to my apartment. He came to me.

Shouldn’t I be putting my foot down and telling him to fuck off? Shouldn’t I be telling him that he’s too late and that I’m fucking over him already?

Except… I’m not.

Oh god, I’m not over him. Not with the way he’s holding onto me, not with the way he’s devouring my mouth as if he wants to consume me, not with the way he’s pressing his warm body against mine on the wall.

I moan as he trails his mouth on my throat and sucks on my pulse.

“Rurik,” His name leaves my lips before I can stop it. “Oh my god.”

“I thought I was your angel,” He whispers harshly, his hot breath causing goosebumps.

“Fuck,” I groan, his hands squeezing my breasts.

“Was Jamie my replacement, Briar?” Rurik growls against my ear. “Did you call him angel when you danced in his arms?”

He pinches my nipples, and I feel like I am on fire. I lift my chin and capture his mouth with mine. Our tongues fight for control as the feelings of anger, hurt, and frustration from earlier today disappear when Rurik groans hungrily into my mouth.

He pulls away slightly so he could snarl, “Did you invite him over to fuck him? You ignored me all day at the wedding so that you can play with a new fuck buddy?”

“Are you jealous, angel?” I purr, licking his jaw. “Didn’t think anyone else wanted me?”

“You said you wanted to be mine, remember?” His eyes flare with a spark of anger and lust as he growls, “You’re mine, Briar. Fucking. Mine.”

He finds the zipper of my dress from the back and undoes it, roughly shoving my dress down my ankles. He grabs my breasts, squeezing them, as his mouth attacks my throat again. Sucking, biting, squeezing.

Holyfuckingshitballs.

I don’t know where this is all coming from, but… Fuck.

I groan at the sensation he’s giving me with just his hands and lips. Goosebumps scatters all over my skin, my breathing came out in uneven puffs of air, and fuck… I am so fucking wet.

“The sounds you make,” Rurik roughly says, swooping down to catch a nipple in his mouth. “They are mine.”

I throw my head back against the wall as the feeling of his tongue swirling around my sensitive nipple makes my toes curl.

He moves upward again, kissing and biting my chest, my pulse, my jaw, my cheeks, and back to devouring my mouth with a grunt.

“How sweet you fucking taste,” He breathes, his hands making their way to my hips. “They are mine.

His fingers brush against the burn scar on my back from childhood, causing me to stiffen. “Rurik—”

“These scars you think I don’t notice?” He interrupts me, caressing the scars with his thumb. “They are mine.”

He moves a hand behind my thigh and pulls, making me wrap a leg around his waist. I can feel his hard length straining against his pants as he starts to grind against me.

“Your tight cunt dripping and warm,” He grunts, kissing me again as he pulls my other leg up to wrap around him. I hook my ankles together, and he wraps his arms around my lower back and ass to hold me in place. “Also mine. You’re mine, Briar. Say it.”

I want to say I’m not his, that I’m no ones. I want to say we should stop because I know how this will end. I want to say he has boundaries in place, and being his isn’t part of it. I want to say so many things.

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