The snap of elastic under my fingers makes her head careen upward, and I’m met with hungry eyes and an inspired twitch at the corner of her mouth. The pencil eraser taps on the notepad, a metronome in the otherwise silent room.
I clear my throat, stopping with my fingers pinching the waistband. “I feel like we should be playing some Ginuwine.”
“Hrm. Don’t move a muscle.”
Tucking the pencil between her teeth, Eira lifts to her hands and knees. And in a move that makes my breath catch in my throat, she crawls across the bed.
If she’s not doing that naked later tonight, I might just tear her clothes from her body and make her. She can be bossy? Well, so can I.
Sitting on the edge of my bed, she looks over at me with a sly smile, fingers tapping on her phone screen.
“Better?” With a wink, Eira slowly increases the volume, then sinks back into the small indent her body created in the bedding.
“I take back what I said. Now this just feels slutty.”
With a laugh that slides over my body like silky lotion, she turns off the song. “All right, no more lollygagging. Boxers. Off.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
They slip down to join the jeans pooled around my ankles. With a quick side step, I’m fully exposed, and my hands naturally fall in front of my dick. Or they try to, but it’s rock hard and bobbing in front of me, every slow lick of Eira’s lips making it twitch.
And she’s juststaring.
I can’t tell if she’s assessing me or trying to commit it all to memory. The glances at her paper become less frequent, and the slow rake of her eyes over my body take up most of her time.
“This is gonna take a while—might be better for you if you sit.” She points her nose toward the armchair in the corner.
Eira catcalls me again the instant I turn to follow her direction.
“You were right. Your assisbetter out of pants,” she says when I give her a look. “And your cock is really pretty. Has anybody told you that before?”
Fuck. That smile of hers has my anxieties collapsing like a house of cards.
“No,” I say through a laugh, sinking into the thick cushion. “Nobody has ever complimented my dick before.”
“Well, good. I’m glad I’m the first.”
For an indeterminate amount of time, she draws quietly and I sit naked, cock at full attention, watching her work. Coming closer and closer to leaping from this chair with every tiny poke of her tongue, every slow sip of bourbon she takes while she considers something, and every fleeting glance my way. My nails sink into the armrests, willing my body to follow her rules and stay still.
I need something to break the tension
It’s both the most frustrating and seductive thing I’ve ever experienced.
“Done,” she says with a gasp, as if the drawing comes as a surprise to her. “Damn.”
“That bad, huh?” I chuckle. “Thinking you should stick to fictional character porn, or what?”
“Thinking about how all the art I made after our night at the hotel really proves how shit my memory is.”
I choke on my own spit for a moment, and she stalks toward me with our shared glass of bourbon. She lets me take a sip to ease the tickle in my throat, then takes a slow gulp herself.
She’s been thinking about methatmuch?
“When do I get to see all this art of yours?”
“The others are for me, but I’ll let you see this one.” With a smirk, she holds up tonight’s masterpiece. And it really is a fucking masterpiece. How she was able to sketch every detail, right down to the small birthmark on my thigh, is beyond me.
“Holy shit.” I squint to get a better look. “How the hell aren’t you a famous artist already?”
