Page 149 of The Sleep With Your Enemy's Sister Situation

He… he was just good…

“Keep fucking going, Fi,” he whispered into my ear.

I brought the paintbrush back up the canvas.

His fingers kept playing. Teasing. Working…

I peeled the paintbrush off the canvas and took a deep breath.

I dropped the bristles into red next.

This time I focused on the canvas.

I tried to ignore the tingling and surging pleasure between my legs.

I touched the paintbrush to the canvas.

Riff moved his finger down.

My eyes widened.

“Fuck,” I whispered.

“Now,” Riff said.

I started to move the paintbrush to the right.

Riff plunged his finger into my slit.

I looked down and cried out with pleasure.

My hips drove forward, wanting more.

He curled his finger and I felt my feet press against the thin rail halfway down the stool.

I almost started to stand up.

Riff’s left hand pulled me against him.

At that moment I had no idea what the paintbrush was doing. Or if I was even controlling it.

I was lost to Riff. Lost to the rush of pleasure.

His finger teasing my depth.

Curling at the exact right spot…

Instead of the G-spot, it should be the Riff-spot.

I slapped the paintbrush to the canvas over and over.

I slammed the paintbrush to the paint.

I put my head back and groaned.

“This is so good, Riff,” I groaned.

“Of course it is, Fi,” he said.

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