Page 41 of Dragon Prince of New York

Watch you touch yourself

Spill my cum between your tits

Throw you over my knee and spank your ass pink

Wake you up with my face between your legs

Fall asleep with my cock in you

Wrap your hair around my fist and fuck your mouth in the shower

Fuck you on the couch

Fuck you on the kitchen counter

Fuck you on the balcony

Fuck your mouth and your cunt and your ass until I own every part of your body

It goes on and on, with more and more detail.

Tie you to the bedposts in my favorite hotel and fuck you so hard and loud you wake all the guests

Fuck you from behind on a stage in front of a hundred people so they can see how completely I wreck you, so they’ll know you’re mine and mine only

Suck your sweet little clit under the tablecloth at an expensive restaurant while you stuff yourself with chocolate cake tokeep from screaming my name

On the last page, there’s only one line of text.

Let you paint my portrait before I take you against the window in your studio

My eyes drops to the gift attached to the note, the blank canvas with a bow around it. Is he…? Does he mean now? Picking up the canvas, I tentatively walk down the wide hall toward my studio. “Cyrus?”

No answer.

I peek into Midas’s office. Empty. My breathing picks up as I make the short trip from Midas’s office to the room where I’ve spent the last few weeks trying, and failing, to paint Cyrus. When I push open the door, the canvas slips from my hand and thuds on the floor.

Cyrus is completely naked, stretched on an ottoman he must have carried in from the living room.

“Took you long enough.” His golden hair is lit like a halo from the light shining through the window behind him. It makes his tattoos look like they’re shimmering and metallic. Beautiful.

My gaze follows the twirling lines down to the hard appendage raised against his abs. Veins crisscross the golden tattoo. Pre-cum drips from the tip. It jerks as if reaching out, begging to be touched.

Just reading his list was enough to get me worked up, and the sight of him only adds to the tension building in my core. I take a step forward. And another. Drawn to him like a moth to a flickering flame.

“My eyes are up here, Finley.” Cyrus’s laugh snaps me out of my hyper fixation for a second, but I’m not easily embarrassed. To prove it, I stick my tongue out at him and stare even more pronouncedly at his impressive package.

“Brat,” he laughs even harder. “Come here. I didn’t get to finish my meal at breakfast, and I’m starving.” He holds his hand out. “Come here and straddle my face.”

My thighs clench and heat flickers in my core, but I stop walking. A small sign of rebellion. I know I can’t fight him, not really. No matter how hard I try to stay away, he draws me back in every time.

Maybe Aeson’s right about soulmates. Or maybe I’m just weak. I’m not sure I care anymore. But that doesn’t mean I can’t take back a little control.

I smirk back at him. “You can eat me out after I paint you.”

It’ll take more than a day to paint him, but I can get a good base sketch before I give in to my traitorous body. I force myself to turn back to the door, where I dropped the canvas.

Cyrus growls and stalks forward. “I said I was hungry.”

---