When he asked if I wanted to eat first or get my surprise, I obviously went with surprise. Hence the walking sightless down a wing of his massive mansion.
“Hmmm, a group of extremely dominant men, and the girl they’re enthralled with at their mercy? I can’t imagine what the appeal could be,” he whispers, his breath tickling my nape.
I’d elbow him, but I won’t chance it in these heels. “Oh, shut it. How much longer?”
His arm grasps my waist, halting my steps. “We’re here,” he says, pulling the blindfold from my eyes.
It takes me a second to register where we are and what’s happening.
“Miss Bradford, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”
I look to Wes and back to the world-renowned fashion instructor standing only feet away. “Is…is she really here? Pinch me so I know I’m not dreaming,” I plea.
“Ouch,” I hiss when Wes’s teeth nip my neck. He quickly soothes the sting with smattering kisses. I lean into his touch but then remember we aren’t alone.
Straightening, I cover my obvious embarrassment with a cough. “I guess I’m not dreaming,” I joke, trying not to freak out that Chloé René is in the same room as me.
“I’m definitely here. Why don’t you come in? Wes had this studio set up with everything we’ll need for today,” she instructs.
Looking around the room, I see a designer’s dream: fabrics, mannequins, accessories, and sewing and embroidery machines. Everything’s here. My feet carry me to the Brother Entrepreneur Pro X 10-Needle embroidery machine, and I get a lady boner.
“It’s a beauty, isn’t it?” Chloé hums. “The things you can do with all the designs in your portfolio,” she muses, and my attention snaps in her direction.
“How’d you know about-,” my question dying on my tongue when I see my sketch pad on the table.
I turn an accusing glare on Wes. His hands are up in surrender. “I got a little help from Jams,” he admits.
Jams.Right, I forgot they’re two peas in a pod now. They game together at least once a week with Lev. She’s still a traitor.
“Uh-huh, you can explain how you got my sister to betray me later,” I tease before returning my attention to my instructor.
For the next three hours, I get an introductory course in design from the top instructor at Parson’s School of Design while Wes plays assistant, getting me anything I need. It’s the hottest thing ever, especially when he volunteers to be my model, and he has to strip down to his navy-blue boxer briefs.
We finally end our lesson, and Chloé informs me that she will be giving me private lessons for the remainder of the school year.
I nearly bulldoze Wes after she leaves. “Thank you so much,” I squeak when he catches me, his bare chest pressing against mine.
“Anything for you, Ariah,” he mumbles, staring down into my eyes. Wes lowers his head until our lips connect, our mouths drawn together like magnets.
My hands fist his hair, and I feel the minute our need grows when his dick presses into me through the material of his briefs.
He pulls his mouth back, and I whimper. “I should feed you,” he groans, almost as if he regrets having to say the words.
“Unless you’re feeding me your dick, no thank you.”
He growls, “Don’t tempt me.”
I reach between our bodies and slide my hand inside his boxers, jerking his shaft. “Tempted enough yet?” I coax.
“You’re being a brat, Ariah.”
“What are you going to do about it, Wes?” I taunt, twisting my palm around the crown of cock, using the pre-cum for lubrication.
He grunts, fisting my hair. “On your knees.”
Chills shoot up my spine. The anticipation of a repeat of our last encounter provokes me to disobey. Twisting out of his grip, I move across the room, pressing my back against the wall closest to all the fabric, and meet his eyes in challenge. “No.”
A predatory smile creeps along his closely shaven jaw. “Come here,” Wes commands, and I shake my head, refusing him again.
