Page 33 of If You Give an Artist a Killer Muse

Will I like the lumpy feeling of his Adam’s apple against my tongue?

The gasp that comes out of him as my tongue swirls around his finger nearly makes my legs buckle. I look up at him as I slowly pull away with a pop and grin as he stares at me with wide eyes.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, angel,” I whisper as I stand on my toes to press my lips against his jaw and nibble his skin. "In fact, please do. Your filthy words are like music to my ears."

I expected Rurik to shove me away, yelling and telling me to leave him alone again, maybe even calling me crazy, his favorite go-to nickname for me. So imagine my surprise when, the moment my teeth lightly grazed the velvety skin of his jaw, Rurik drew in a sharp breath and shivered.

Fucking shivered.

I deeply inhale his scent—a spicy, woodsy smell, like mahogany with a hint of lavender and espresso.

Shit. He smells so good. My eyes roll to the back of my skull. I don’t realize his hands are on my shoulders until he grips them tightly.

The best part is? He’s not pushing me away. No, he's keeping me in place.

I’m getting fucking greedy because I want to know what else would he do if I push him some more?

To my disappointment, he lets go of me and quickly steps away to create distance between us. Do I pout like a fucking child who was denied her chocolate ice cream?

Fucking, yes, I did. Ugh, I need to chill.

Rurik's finger hovers before him, and he blinks as if waking from a trance. His gaze slowly rises, locking onto mine with an intensity that sends a thrilling shiver down my spine.

At that moment, I see a flicker of something beneath the surface, a tumultuous mix of emotions swirling in those penetrating blue eyes.

Anger and confusion simmered there, but they were overshadowed by something deeper, something more… Feral? My breath hitches as his throat moves when he swallows, and I feel the weight of his gaze bearing down on me like a predator sizing up its prey.

Uh. What the hell was that?

Fucking glorious, that's what that was.

Come on, Rurik. Tell me what you're thinking. Were you imagining it was your cock my tongue was licking? How filthy are your thoughts?

To my disappointment, Rurik blinks again. It's as if a heavy mask descends upon his face, erasing the intense look he had moments earlier and interrupting whatever thoughts were racing through his mind.

Where did you go, angel?

After finally collecting himself, he clears his throat and wipes his finger on his shirt. He shoots me a disgusted look.

“Don’t do that again,” he forcefully snaps, even though he sounds as if he just ran a marathon.

“Were you picturing your finger as your cock?” I ask teasingly. “Wondered how it’ll feel if my tongue licked your dick clean?”

My mouth twitches as he clears his throat again and turns around to walk away, not even saying anything as I walk beside him. I can’t help but grin like an idiot once more. I’m definitely wearing him down. He’s not going to be able to resist me.

I just know it.

We walk silently for a few seconds until I spot more flowers sprouting from the ground. I quickly pluck one and return to his side, offering him the new one and the one from earlier.

Rurik frowns at it and rolls his eyes, not taking it.

“Take the damn flowers this time, angel.”

He’s gorgeous, but my patience is starting to run out each time.

“No, Briar.” Rurik snaps, “I want nothing to do with you and your overbearing bullshit. Get the fucking hint.”

“But I want everything to do with you.”

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