Page 10
Story: Hounded: Ashes to Ashes
I wasn’t sure how I’d convinced him to go this far. It reminded me of my attempts at sexy roleplay. He usually gave about fifty percent of what I asked for before his nerves or gentle nature got the better of him. Like the time I talked him into playing kidnapper. My so-called scary dog lacked the ability to be menacing even for a minute, so the act ended with me thrown over his shoulder and carried to bed in a giggling fit.
This exercise had gone as far as getting him out of his clothes and me seated before my easel, and now we were in a stalemate.
My lips curved in a smile before I called over in a sing-song voice. “Loren…”
He glanced at me, sharply focused, and my heart flip-flopped. I swallowed to keep my voice from cracking because the absolutesmolderof this man was enough to choke me.
I smiled again, this one a bit wobbly, then flapped my hand at him. “Pose for me, baby.”
His brows dipped, and I snickered.
Swiveling in my seat, I faced him fully and tucked my paintbrush behind my ear. “It’ll be tasteful, I swear. Like an art class study.”
Snorting, Loren turned aside, giving me a view of his left hip and the soft ridges of his ribs, punctuated with muscles. As if I wasn’t having a hard enough time concentrating. Besides those impeccable obliques, he had an eight-pack, long sinewy arms with tendons that roped around his biceps, and the perfect Adonis V like an arrow that pointed straight at his dick. The thought of it made my mouth water.
I swallowed again, definitely salivating, then added, “I never went to art school, you know. These are experiences that could really improve my craft.”
Loren looked at me again, more scathing than before. “You’re full of shit,” he grumbled.
God, he was cute when he was pouty.
I stood, no longer able to resist the urge to get closer to him. Maybe I should have taken up sculpture instead of watercolor. That would have given me an excuse to touch every inch of him and claim it was research.
Instead, I shuffled over in my bunny slippers and entered his personal space. When he didn’t quit his grip on his manhood or relax the arm barred across his torso, I laid my hands on the narrowest part of his waist and leaned against him.
“Please?” I batted my eyelashes. “Let me paint you like one of my French girls.”
“No.”
His skin felt like velvet beneath my fingers, and those long, espresso-brown locks spilling over his shoulders invited me to play. Forget painting. Forget posing. We could take this exercise to the bedroom and turn it into a workout.
“Please?” I tried again, really milking it.
Despite me crowding him and craning my neck to catch his gaze, Loren kept his attention averted, watching Dr. Frankenfurter prance across the television screen with a level of interest that almost made me jealous.
After a long, quiet moment, I pinched his bare butt cheek. He jumped, then glowered down at me.
“Come on, Lore,” I whined. “At least fix your face. I don’t wanna immortalize you scowling.”
“I’m not…”
My chastising look silenced him. He glanced over his shoulder at the wide, short window behind him with the curtains thrown wide to give a view of the trailer park outside. He sighed loudly.
“The neighbors can see my ass,” he muttered.
Sure enough, a woman was out across the road, watering her hanging tomato plant and missing the best show of her life.
Catching Loren’s chin in my hand, I turned his face toward mine. “Lucky them,” I said, bouncing my brows.
He rolled his eyes, and I pushed up to peck a kiss to his lips.
I stepped back and held up my fingers to make a frame, horizontal then vertical, sizing him up. He harrumphed another breath while I pondered and finally announced, “I also don’t want to immortalize you with a limp dick.”
Loren grinned, wry and so damn sexy that I could have swooned like a southern belle, thrown myself backward and let him catch me, but he spoke first.
“So, you’re painting porn now.”
I crossed my arms, indignant. “It’s a tasteful nude.”
Table of Contents
- Page 1
- Page 2
- Page 3
- Page 4
- Page 5
- Page 6
- Page 7
- Page 8
- Page 9
- Page 10 (Reading here)
- Page 11
- Page 12
- Page 13
- Page 14
- Page 15
- Page 16
- Page 17
- Page 18
- Page 19
- Page 20
- Page 21
- Page 22
- Page 23
- Page 24
- Page 25
- Page 26
- Page 27
- Page 28
- Page 29
- Page 30
- Page 31
- Page 32
- Page 33
- Page 34
- Page 35
- Page 36
- Page 37
- Page 38
- Page 39
- Page 40
- Page 41
- Page 42
- Page 43
- Page 44
- Page 45
- Page 46
- Page 47
- Page 48
- Page 49
- Page 50
- Page 51
- Page 52
- Page 53
- Page 54
- Page 55
- Page 56
- Page 57
- Page 58
- Page 59
- Page 60
- Page 61
- Page 62
- Page 63
- Page 64
- Page 65
- Page 66
- Page 67
- Page 68
- Page 69
- Page 70
- Page 71
- Page 72
- Page 73
- Page 74
- Page 75
- Page 76
- Page 77
- Page 78
- Page 79
- Page 80
- Page 81
- Page 82
- Page 83
- Page 84
- Page 85
- Page 86
- Page 87
- Page 88
- Page 89
- Page 90
- Page 91
- Page 92
- Page 93
- Page 94
- Page 95
- Page 96
- Page 97
- Page 98
- Page 99
- Page 100
- Page 101
- Page 102
- Page 103
- Page 104
- Page 105
- Page 106
- Page 107
- Page 108
- Page 109
- Page 110
- Page 111
- Page 112
- Page 113
- Page 114
- Page 115
- Page 116
- Page 117
- Page 118
- Page 119
- Page 120
- Page 121
- Page 122
- Page 123
- Page 124
- Page 125
- Page 126
- Page 127
- Page 128
- Page 129
- Page 130