Page 89 of If You Give an Artist a Killer Muse

He’s devastatingly beautiful. He reminds me of this big statue I saw as a kid—so tall, majestic, and captivating, yet with a hint of darkness lurking within him. I want to go over the carefully painted layers he’s done on himself and play with the shadows he’s concealing.

Fuck.

I can’t deny it anymore. I’m obsessed with this dick — The man and that huge thing hanging between his legs.

He finally stops washing his hands and dries them with a paper towel. He breathes deeply, his shoulders bunching up with each second he inhales, and then exhales sharply. I stare at the hickey already forming on his neck and grin.

He’s mine. All mine.

I can’t believe he let us do this a second time. I can’t believe he’s not running away again.

Now I can’t believe he chooses this moment to open his big fucking mouth to ruin my mood. “We can’t do this anymore, Briar.”

My grin vanishes. I cross my arms and tilt my head to the side, staring at him. “Did you miss me, Rurik?”

His cheeks flood pink again. “Fuck you, Briar.”

I grin widely again. “I thought you would never ask. When?”

He makes an exasperated sound and throws the paper towel in the trash, glaring at me. “I don’t like you like that, Briar.”

“Not according to what just happened a few minutes ago.”

He scoffs, “I’m a man. My body will react that way with any beautiful woman sucking me off.”

“You still think I’m beautiful?”

Rurik’s eyes flash angrily, but he doesn’t say anything.

“There were plenty of beautiful women in the party, Rurik.” I remind him, “But it’s not them you came hard for.”

“I’m still a virgin,” He reminds me. “I can grab any of those women now and show you how my body responds to them. Maybe I’ll experiment in different types of position or —”

I'm on him before he can finish his sentence. I slam my hand on his mouth, leaning in closer until the tip of our noses touches, and I can see my reflection in those surprised, piercing blue eyes.

“You touch another woman, Rurik,” I whisper, removing my hand from his mouth and leaning in so that my lips barely brush against his with each word I speak. “And you will find her head in a box, wrapped in beautifully decorated paper, with a big shiny bow on top.”

He exhales, and I inhale back, breathing him in. Then, like the vampire I pretend to be, I pull him to me and bite his neck. I'm rewarded with a shiver that vibrates throughout him as I ease his skin with my tongue, then suck on it hard, and then bite.

Bite, suck, and repeat.

“You’re mine, angel,” I whisper, nipping his earlobe.

He swallows hard, his hands moving to my hips. “Piss off, psycho.”

I wrap my arms around his neck, pressing my body against his as he leans against the sink. I glance at his face and tease, “Stop talking. You’re making me wet again.”

He lets out a huff, shaking his head.

But I swear…

I seriously thought I saw him smile before he replaced it with a scoff.

I want to open his mouth and pull that beautiful smile back up so I can stare at it more.

“You’re off your rocker, aren’t you?” Rurik sighs, his hands pressed against my lower back as if he’s afraid I’ll pull away at any moment.

Not in his fucking dreams.

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