Page 226 of If You Give an Artist a Killer Muse

“It’s hot,” I say simply as I push my shorts and panties down. “Too much clothes.”

He releases a strangling sound and looks away. “Put your clothes on, Briar, for fucks sake.”

“As I said before, this is my place,” I chirp, standing completely naked now. “If I want to walk around in my birthday suit, I will.”

His hands are shaking, and he accidentally drops some of his belongings. Growling, he bends to pick it up. But before he could straighten up, I throw myself at him.

“What the fuck, Briar!”

“You love asking me that question, you know that?”

“Get off me!”

“No.”

“Briar! Get off of me, or I will destroy everything that matters to you!”

“Does that mean you’ll destroy yourself?”

“Wh-What? Fucking get off of me, you crazy psychotic woman!”

“Mmm, you’re the one pinning me down,” I thrust my hips against his erection and grin when he groans.

As if he realizes what he’s doing, he snatches his hands away and tries to stand up. But there I am, tackling him back to the floor with me on top of him.

“Briar!”

“Rurik!”

He curses under his breath, but I can’t help but notice the desire flashing in his eyes. “You’re fucking annoying!”

“And you’re being an asshole,” I whisper against his ear, licking his earlobe.

He shudders, and his breath hitches when I start nibbling his throat and sucking his Adam’s apple. “Mmm… Fuck… I fucking hate you.”

No, he doesn’t. But I’ll let him think that if it’ll get him to tell me what the fuck is on his mind and this change of behavior of his. He says he can walk in here and end things without giving me a reason?

Jesus, I kind of miss messing with him like this.

Rurik makes another sound that makes my pussy quiver and oof. Am I crazy? I’m not trying to have sex with him right now — but if it leads to that, who am I to stop it?

“Love when you talk dirty to me, angel.” I purr against his ear.

“Briar,” He growls as I roll my hips against his erection.

“I promised you I wouldn’t let anything come between us, remember?” I remind him, kissing his jaw. “That includes you, angel.”

Rurik finally stops struggling against me, and I quickly get off of him to reach for the bathrobe lying on the bed.

When I turn back, he's already standing, running his hands through his hair in agitation and then tugging it. He opens his mouth as if to speak, but no words come out.

Instead, he mutters under his breath, shaking his head. His expression is one of frustration, on the brink of tears, and he tugs at his hair as if he might pull it out.

The sight is unsettling and disturbing.

What the fuck is wrong with him?

I stride to him, wrapping my arms around his waist. “Rurik. You’re scaring me. Tell me what happened?”

---