“Maybe I’ll try to disappoint you,” she says breathily.
Is she feeling it too? This flood of sudden hunger? This fucking certainty that something meaningful is happening here?
I take a few steps back before I lose it. She’s a soft young thing, too fragile for a man like me. I might break her.
She brushes wavy brown hair behind her ear. Smiles awkwardly. My hand twitches as I wonder if she’s getting wet. If I slid my hand between her legs, would I feel the heat first? Would herslick tight young slit tempt me with fire? Then, would I feel the waterfall of boiling release waiting to blow.
I clench my jaw. Those fucking tits squashed into that dress …
I want to taste her nipples. Learn their shape, their size, their texture.
She’s got a mole on her neck. Wonder if she’s got any other moles. Maybe a few freckle-like ones scattered across her ass or thighs. Making her human and real as I pound into her. Cause her body to sing wetly for me as I fill her up almost until she can’t take it.
She glances down.
Fuck.
She’s seen it.
My prick is doing a terrible job at hiding my need.
She quickly turns away.
Shocked, probably. Wondering if I’m some billionaire pervert who does this with every pretty tourist girl who passes through here.
Hell fucking no.
Just her.
Only her.
“I’ll get the supplies,” I snarl, turning quickly towards the villa.
I passoff the remaining tours to one of my employees. Stand at the balcony doors and watch Bella paint instead.
I was right. Pure talent wrapped in a curvy flawless package.
I’m not sure if she knows I’m here until she turns. Raises her eyebrows. “Disappointed yet?”
“Not even close,” I snap. “You’re amazing. You have something special.”
She rolls her eyes.
“Don’t do that,” I tell her firmly.
“Do what?”
“Look at me like I’m lying to you. Like it wouldn’t be obvious to anybody who sees you work.”
She bites her lip. Fuck. Does she know what that does to me?
It’s easy to imagine her biting it as I slip inside her. As her folds spread slightly and then eagerly for me. As an orgasm builds through her curvy body and makes her thickness shake as I hammer into her.
“Are you an art critic?”
Her sassiness triggers more heat in me. My cock twitches in my pants. I’ve been hard for almost forty minutes straight. That has to be some kind of record.
“I see the passion in each stroke. I see the care you take. I see … you.”
