Page 148 of The Sleep With Your Enemy's Sister Situation

“Any other questions, sweetheart?” Riff asked.

I slowly moved my head left to right.

He wanted me to paint while he pleasured me.

“What am I supposed to paint?” I asked.

“Whatever the fuck comes to mind, Fi,” he growled. “I don’t give a fuck if you just make random lines. Got it?”

My teeth actually chattered for a second or two.

Oh… my… Riff…

His finger began to pull at the t-shirt, inching it up my legs.

When I felt his fingertips touch my bare skin, I sucked in a breath.

“Now, Fi,” he growled into my ear.

My hand started to shake again and I reached my paintbrush for a color.

Any color.

I smacked the bristles into a glob of pink paint.

Pink? Really?

I touched the canvas.

Riff moved his fingers up my legs with force.

His middle fingertip pressed against my clit as I pressed the paintbrush to the canvas.

I shut my eyes and groaned.

“Oh, fuck,” I whispered.

I slid the paintbrush down the canvas.

I pulled it away.

Riff dug his finger with a little more force.

My hips bucked a little.

I thought I was going to launch myself off the stool.

Nope.

Riff’s left hand prevented that.

Holding onto my hip, keeping me in place.

His fingers touched curves that I didn’t exactly approve of on my body.

Standing and having him touch my hips was a much different thing than when I sat down.

But this was Riff.

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