Page 61 of The Art of You

Oh, I do.But he was right, maybe not for our first time. “Oh-okay,” I whispered—more like whimpered—as I fought to catch my breath and return to reality.

My legs remained locked around him as he straightened to find my eyes. “What the hell was that?” His brows tightened as he eyed me with apprehension, both of us breathing hard.

“I think it was art.”

I was about to explain what I meant, but he distracted me by tracing the pad of his thumb along the line of my lips, and I caught his flesh with my tongue.

“Such a bad girl.” He unwrapped my legs from his waist and stepped back.

I set my feet against the cabinet doors for support while studying him. He had no idea how naughty I could be for him. How long I’d waited for this, never thinking it’d happen. But the images I’d conjured up to keep me warm at night were explicit and erotic.

The wicked gleam in his eyes as he stared at me had me parting my knees and drawing a hand between my thighs. I wasn’t wearing panties, and I was ready to show him just how bad I’d truly been prepared to be when coming to his room tonight.

His gaze shot between my thighs, his hands going to hiships as if working to restrain himself. Chest puffing out. Nostrils flaring.

Leaning back on my elbows to remain in this position with my knees open, I nearly lost my balance.

He swooped in and bent forward, drawing his good arm behind my back. “You want me to touch you, do you?” It was more like a promise than a question falling between us, and I could only nod my affirmative. “You want me to feel how wet and ready you are? How swollen with need your beautiful cunt is for me?”

I let go of my shorts, needing both hands to brace at my sides now.

“Tell me, Bella. Tell me you want me to put my hand between your thighs and make you come. To slide my fingers inside your slick pussy and fuck you while you wish it’s my cock instead.”

Oh my God.Dirty talk from Hudson sent me over the edge. To the Land of Fairy Tales (not the Grimm ones), where I’d happily live every day. A place of miracles and unicorns. And even Santa Claus. Anything was possible with this man.

“Tell me. Use your words, darlin’.” He set his mouth against mine and demanded, “What. Do. You. Want. Me. To. Do?” How a man could punctuate each word and turn syllables into erotic harmonies was beyond me, but it was a thing, and he just did it.

I inhaled as his hand went to the inside of my thigh and traveled beneath my shorts, and I lifted my hips in expectation.

“Touch me, please.” It was one thing to think dirty things while getting myself off with my vibrator every night, it was quite another for me to stare into the eyes of a man I’d always considered off-limits and say them.

“I need more than that.” He started to pull his hand away, and I panicked.

“Fuck me with your hand while I imagine it’s your tongue on my clit,” I rushed out, not wanting to lose him. “And yes, I’ll be wishing it’s your cock inside me.”

A dark smile cut across his lips. It was one I’d never witnessed in my life and was grateful he’d saved it, gifting it to me during a moment like this.

With his other arm still around my back, keeping me in an arched position, he finally gave me what I wanted. He guided my shorts down to my thighs to give him better access, and he palmed my bare pussy like he was taking ownership of it. Staking his claim that it’d be his forever and no one else’s.

He captured my moan of relief at the contact and kissed me hard while dragging his knuckles along my wet sex.

He stroked me with his fingers. Then, moving them in and out, dragging my arousal over my sensitive flesh, he brought his mouth to my ear. “Do you know how badly I wanted to do this while you were at my apartment that weekend? I wanted to rip your bikini off with my teeth.” He stopped touching me, and it was pure torture waiting for more.

“What else did you want to do to me?”

“Pull your pussy to my face and feast on you all day long.” His fingers went to work again. Stroking. Soft and slow. In and out.

And I lost control. My stomach muscles nearly spasmed from trying to resist before I came hard, unable to contain my cries. “Oh, God. Yes, yes, yes.” I trembled against the heel of his hand as I climaxed, and he caught my last “Yes” with his lips as I about collapsed onto the counter.

I would’ve whacked my head against the glass if it wasn’t for Mr. Stealthy coming to my rescue. His hand flew up to cradle my skull, keeping me safe.

A few quiet, sated moments later, a devilish smile crossed his lips and he helped me off the counter before rightingmy shorts in place. He cocked a brow, eyeing me up and down, then went to the sink to wash the smell of sex from his hands. Good idea, because I just remembered where we were supposed to be.

We were no longer safe in the land of Make-Believe, but had returned to my parents’ house, thrust back to the reality of dealing with an unknown number of enemies with unknown motives.

He dried his hands, then faced me, resting his hip against the counter. And just like that, a mask of indifference moved over his face at lightning speed. The bulge in his sweatpants and my swollen lips were the only proof we’d taken a hell of a lot longer than five seconds of “airport” time.

“What now?”

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