Masterpiece (10 page)

“I only agreed to let you
paint
me, Mr. Cash,” I remind him.
I know this will ignite
him even more
and I want to do that. I want him rough and raw and ready.

But Max Cash is no pushover.
He’s as stubborn and hot
as I am.
“I’ll paint you, sweetheart. But first there’s somethin’ else I’m gonna do
.
My baby’s wet pussy needs
some attention,” he says.

My baby.

I love the sound of that.
I’m his. He’s mine.

I think about feigning a protest but his mouth is already at my breast, feeding like a starving man. He pulls my nipple deep into the sweet fire of his mouth, tugging and licking and biting on one breast then the other as he grips me with his rough hands
until I’m moaning and writhing and sighing his name. I’m so slippery now the honey
of my desire coats the tops of my thighs and slides between the slippery cheeks of my ass.
As I writhe under his mouth, the slickness of my body makes me wild … crazy. I need his mouth …

“Max,” I breathe, but he’s already kissing a line down my stomach, burrowing his tongue into my navel until I squirm. Then he slides lower. Jesus, he’s so
strong
.
Roughly, he
pulls my thighs apart and pins them in place. Even if
I
wanted to move, there’s no way in hell I could. I’m completely at the mercy of this rugged rodeo hero and his killer eyes and wicked mouth.

Oh god, he’s
there
. His breath is hot against my wet, needy flesh.

And then
he licks me.
Like the dream.

His mouth closes over the lips of my pussy and he sucks on me as his tongue slides into my core, pushing deep into me. In and out, over and over. “My little cherry tastes so fucking good,” he says against my swollen petals. “
Mine
.”

He starts slowly licking my pussy, opening me, finding my clit, which he licks like it’s
candy. The
deep, sweet ache inside me
starts to build. Ma
x latches onto my clit and sucks hard with his mouth, flicking masterfully with
his tongue.
He uses both hands.
His fingers slide just inside my pussy and rim the cove of my ass at the same time, rubbing and
dipping in a subtle, mind-numbing rhythm. Just like that, the pleasure overflows and my core starts to clench and spasm
in wild bursts of bliss, over and over.
The pleasure is so pure and so good, I feel drugged. Changed. Addicted to his touch.

Max keeps licking me,
everywhere
, like he can’t get enough.
He’s so hungry. So
dirty
. He licks the tiny pucker of my ass, poking his tongue into me, then he laves his tongue along my pussy, delving and stroking until I’m wet all over again, not just from his tongue but from rippling waves of my own need
.
“
Fuck
, you’re sweet, baby,” he says. “You taste like fucking heaven.” He kisses my clit. I realize my fingers are weaved through his thick black hair as he pulls back and looks up at me. “I’m going to paint you like this, Elle. One painting. Then this sweet little cherry is mine.”

Everything about me is already his.
I wish never had to disengage from Max Cash’s tongue.
Or any other part of him.

I almost wonder if I’m still dreaming. This is too good to be true.
He’s
too good to be true.

“I have something I want to try, baby.”
He stands up and I almost ask him to come back. To do that again. To take me
now
.
“If you want to,” he adds, “and I think you will.”

He takes a small box out of his bedside drawer and pulls the plastic wrapping off before opening it. It’s a small pink bendy object, curved in a u-shape, rounded into a small bulb on one side, and thin and flat on the other.

“What is it?”

He sits next to me on the bed.
He’s smiling. That
lazy grin that kills me every time. He strokes my cheek and it’s the gentlest I’ve ever seen him.
“It’s a
vibrator.
I want to use it on you, if you’ll let me.”

My big, rugged cowboy has a sweet, playful side and I know it for sure: I’m a goner. I’ll
never
recover from Max Cash.

“If you say yes, I’ll gently slide this inside you. It will
almost
get you off while I paint you.
But not quite
.
This part,” he says, holding the thin end, “will rest against
your clit.
I’ll control the vibratio
ns while I paint. I work fast
but it’ll take me an hour or two to paint you
.
And I don’t want you getting lonely.” His dark eyes shine.
“Sometimes, I’ll come over to you and kiss you and lick
you and get you nice and wet and ready for me. But there’ll be other times I
’ll have to keep painting, when the momentum gets going.”

Wow.

He’s not only a rodeo hero and an artistic genius, he’s a sex techie.
“Oh,” I manage.

“This’ll vibrate against your g-spot
but it won’t go deep enough to do more than that. That little cherry is all mine.
So what do you say, baby? I’ll make you feel so good. Will you let me? Say yes, Elle, darlin’.”

It feels strange to be so open and vulnerable to this complete stranger … and now
this
. But Max Cash stepped straight out of my dreams. I feel like he’s already a part of me.
And I don’t want to refuse anything he asks of me. If he can pleasure me as ridiculously well as he did a few minutes ago, then I’m all in.

“All right,” I say shyly, which is totally unlike me. This is new territory for me – all of it.
I don’t really feel shy, just curious.

He gently touches the vibrator to my clit and presses the button of a small white device he holds in his other hand. The low vibration zings through my core
.
I can’t help it: I moan, writhing against the vibrating nub.

The vibrations stop. Max’s eyes are dark, his dazzling face framed by his mane of black
hair. Watching my eyes, he easily slides
the bulb-shaped end an inch or two deeper into my slippery pussy.
He pushes the button again. This time the vibration pulses inside me whi
le the other end zings against my clit. The pleasure is so intense I
almost come. My orgasm
reaches the very edge of its shatter-point but then he clicks the button off.

“
Max
.”

“Sorry, sweetheart. I’ll let you come again when I’m ready.
I’m
the artist,” he smiles. “I get to decide.”

“But -- ” I protest. “Please!
Just a little more. Press it
again.”

His smile just about breaks my heart he’s so gorgeous. “You’ll come again soon enough, baby girl. But I don’t want to wear you out before the main event.”

“Please,” I whisper. I don’t even know what I’m asking for. The main event, yes, the main event.

With that, he leans over me, kissing my lips in a slow, scorching kiss. With his tongue in my mouth, he presses the button in an on off rhythm, once, twice. The sweet vibrating heat starts to compound. Just like that, I come again. Excruciatingly beautiful clenches pulse through my pussy, radiating through my body all the way to the tips of my fingers and toes.

“
That’s
because I’ll do anything you ask me to do, Elle Parker. You are the sweetest damn thing I ever saw, or tasted or kissed. I might not ever let you go. You got me hooked, and I haven’t even had my prize yet.”

You’re not the only one
, is what I’m thinking.
I love you.
Lud
icrous, yes. Because I’ve barely known him for more than a few hours. But how could any man ever top
Max Cash? It’s impossible. He’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Pure, undiluted alpha perfection. I have to have him.

He kisses
my lips once more, the kiss erotic in its lightness, then he walks over to his canvas and starts to paint. In his left hand, he’s still holding the button. In his right, his paintbrush dips into the paint, mixing some of the colors. Then sliding across the canvas.

I’m lying here mostly naked in this haze of lust and satisfaction, the waves of my orgasm still rippling, and yet watching him paint is possibly the most fascinating thing I’ve ever witnessed. His manner becomes softer as he focuses on his work. His gaze on my body is so intensely intimate
it turns me on even more.
I relax into my pose. My body feels soft and young and
…
beautiful
.

I can’t find any other model who’s as perfect as you are. None of those girls are what I want. I want you.

That’s how it feels, too.

Like he wants
me
.

All of this … the dream, the art, the orgasms … well, it’s starting to feel a little like destiny.

Chapter Eleven

Holy fucking hell, is all I can say.

The girl’s
insanely
hot, and so sexy it hurts. She comes at the drop of a goddamn hat.
And she tastes like some crazy mixture of honey and innocence and ripe fruit on a
sunny summer’s day.

I could be a happy man with this little librarian in my bed every night.

My cock agrees. It’s so hard
I’m literally about to bust through my button-fly.

But this little muse is blowing my mind. The paint is flying off my brush and I can already tell this is going to be one of the best paintings I’ve ever done. She’s so fucking nubile and sweet. Her breasts are creamy handfuls of perfection. I can’t wait to get my mouth back on those rosy nipples, and drink in all that sweet beauty. I can’t wait to come all over her lush curves and mark her with my seed and my gripping hands and my
biting teeth. I want to eat her alive.

And that
pussy
. God almighty. I could
taste
her cherry, like some divine invitation for me and me only.

She’s watching me with this near-sated, soft expression. I love her eyes. The
greenness
. The sharp intelligence. The fascination that’s nothing like they usually give me. It’s not raw adulation based only on the way I look or the victory of my ride. It’s sparked with something more.
We have things in common that are bigger than ourselves. And it’s mutual, like we’re equals.

She
gets
me on a level that no one else ever has.

It’s a strange thing to recognize but it’s true: I’ve never felt that connection with anyone before in my life. Not like this.

I feel it now: Elle Parker and I
need each other, it’s as simple as that. Even without the art
or the money or the gallery. T
hat understanding feels like a current between us. A charged, feverish anticipation.

Just for fun, I press the button. My brother Jack’s girlfriend writes a sex-related column for some women’s fashion magazine and gets given all kinds of sex toys as one of the perks of her job.
Go figure.
So they thought it would be hilarious to give me one of these new-fangled vibrators as a birthday present
, not that I’ve ever needed one before.

I’d never thought I’d use the damn thing but as soon as Elle agreed to be my model, the idea came to me. I can’t just have her lying there all hot and bothered and not be able to do anything about it when I’m in the middle of painting the goddamn painting.
So I decided to try it out. Apparently, it works.

She starts moaning and squirming on the bed. Her legs part further and her hands feather her skin.

I push the button again, to stop the vibrations. I don’t want her to come again, or get worn out
. Next time she comes, her
tight little pussy’s going to be clenching around my rock-hard cock.

“Cash, you’re a sadist,” she breathes. “I’m so close. Please. Just a little more.”

“Soon, baby.
Soon I’m gonna give you a whole lot more. Ten more minutes and I’ll be done with this.”

“Do you always paint them this fast?”

“It usually takes a little longer. I don’t usually have such a tasty piece of cake waiting for me when the work’s done.”

“Max?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m glad I found you,” she says quietly.
“Even if you don’t give me your paintings.”

My
heart feels tight when she says that. Jesus Christ, it almost feels like I’m
fucking
falling
for this girl.
She’s just so flawless. There’s not a single thing I can
criticize. Except maybe the sassy little attitude and the librarian glasses. Actually, I kind of like the glasses. Even worse, I kind of
love
the sassy little attitude.
“I’m glad you found me, too, sweetheart.”