Page 47

She rolled toward him, tracing her palm along his chest. “There’s an answer to that, but it mostly comes down to Americans getting stubborn when told what to do.”

He arched into her touch, thunder rumbling in his chest. “ I do not like being told what to do.” Though he liked doing what Poppy wanted him to do. It helped that she mostly wanted him to do pleasant things, like making love and drinking coffee.

“So you’ve said.” Her gaze followed her hand along his hip. “I’d love to paint you just like this. You’re so beautiful.” Her eyes flickered to his for a moment, uncertain, then she smiled as if relieved.

“Am I?” Rai looked at his own body. “I am not chiseled or washboard or…beefy?” Had that been the word? None of the websites he’d visited had made much sense, truthfully, but the photos had not looked like him.

“Well, you don’t look like the cover of a spicy mafia romance, but honestly neither do those cover models when they’re just lying around.

That look’s all about dehydration and body oil and a bazillion pushups before the photo shoot.

Not to mention all the work in Photoshop.

” She stroked his arm, face thoughtful. “You don’t lift weights, do you? ”

“I am very strong. ”

“Do you go to the gym?” Her hand slipped down to traverse his stomach.

He managed to keep from asking what a gym was. The truthful answer was easy. “No.”

“So you’re fit, but not pumped. I like it.”

Rai adopted one of the poses she had asked him to try the day before. “Then why do you not paint me like this? Like one of your French girls?” He had not yet remembered to look up the meaning of French , but he was certain from the context in which Poppy had used it that it meant something sexual.

She laughed. “I am pretty sure your mom doesn’t want a painting of you naked.”

“Why would she care?”

Her eyebrows went up. “Your mom is going to hang a painting of your penis on her wall?”

Rai frowned down along his body again. “Is it an unsightly penis?” He’d thought it quite normal.

“It’s…a penis.” She gestured vaguely, cheeks turning pink. “I mean, it’s awesome, as penises go. I’m… I’m generally in favor of your penis. If there were a penis beauty competition, you’d be on the podium. Ten out of ten, no notes. Just… It’s for your mother .”

“She has seen me naked many times. She would not care.”

Poppy bit her lip. “What do you want?”

“I want to be painted as you see me. Will it bring greater joy to your eyes if I wear the necktie?”

Her lips quirked in a crooked smile. “I mean, we could do naked with the necktie. Best of both worlds.”

“I would be more comfortable without it,” Rai said. “And I think my mother would prefer seeing me comfortable.”

“Well,” Poppy murmured. “Maybe a non-penis-displaying pose. Or I can arrange some discreet drapery.”

“You seem quite concerned about my penis. Do you not like it?”

“It’s more that I like your penis too much.

” Poppy curved her hand around his cock.

He gasped and closed his eyes, concentrating on the feel of her warm hand.

“If I’m looking at it for hours on end, I don’t think I’ll be able to concentrate on painting it.

” She brushed a kiss across his lips. “For the record, that’s not a problem I’ve normally had when working with a live model. It’s just you. ”

“I…am honored.” It was madness that he should want her so again, so swiftly after achieving bliss. Though it was a hazy desire, peaceful, indolent pleasure at her caresses, desire without urgency.

They kissed tenderly for some time before Poppy suggested a shower, and Rai eagerly agreed, sighing with relief as the water soaked into his skin.

He was careful to resist absorbing too quickly—another hazard of being under Poppy’s eye constantly—but even so, he was well hydrated by the time they had returned to her studio, following a pleasant meal with her mother.

He’d worn the shirt with blue waves in honor of Poppy’s thoughtful gifts, and her eyes were warm with recognition of his gesture when she helped him remove it for their painting session.

Poppy shoved the cushions into a new configuration and encouraged him to lie on his belly, propped up enough that the water bottles on his hat would not spill, and he had to admit, he was far more comfortable with water a mere sip away.

He lay there and watched Poppy as she alternated glances between him and her sketchpad.

She made faces as she drew, fierce grins and perplexed frowns and quirked expressions of concentration, and watching them made it easier for him to lie still.

They could have been there for hours by the time she sighed and set her pencils aside.

She had refilled his water bottles a few times, entreating him to remain prone, and it had felt entirely decadent, being waited on by the woman he adored.

The promised rains had come not long after noon, though they had been gentle and soft, pattering steadily upon the roof as she’d worked.

“I think I found a good angle,” she said, bringing the sketchpad and dropping to her knees on the floor beside him.

He shifted around to his side so he could see, smiling when he recognized his own semblance on the page. His glamour was not so different from his real face as he’d thought, and there was a wild sensuality to the pencil lines that appealed to him. “It is lovely.”

“For the painting, though? Is this okay? I have more.” She flipped back some pages to show other sketches of him from different angles. “I just like this angle best.”

He nodded, then caught at his helmet before it could fall off. “Yes. It is all I could wish for.”

She sighed and closed the sketchbook. “Fantastic. I can transfer the sketch to the canvas tomorrow while you’re at work, maybe get some underpainting done. I guess we can stop for today.”

Rai made to sit up but was halted by Poppy’s hand on his chest .

“Hang on,” she purred. “I didn’t say I was done with you yet.”

“Do you wish another pose?”

She shook her head. “You were really, really good today. You held the pose so well, for such a long time, and I don’t think it was just because of the silly hat.” Her hand traced circles on his chest. “You deserve a reward.”

“You have already given me—” He caught his breath when her hands stroked downward.

“Shh.” She fumbled beside their nest of cushions for a few moments, then revealed a condom. “Just relax. You like the blue ones, right? Let me take care of you.”

He nodded, laying back and letting Poppy take charge.

Her clever fingers caressed and teased, gripped and pumped, until he was gasping with lust. She had angled herself so he could only reach her shoulders, and each time he tried to sit up to caress her, she firmly pressed him back into the cushions, so he lay there and watched her, the expressions rippling across her face, satisfaction and playfulness and hunger, and when she finally had mercy and spread the blue condom along his length, he nearly wept from the anticipation of burying himself in her sweet cunt again.

And then she took him in her mouth.

His back arched and his hips jerked upward of their own volition, and he heard himself cry out in ecstasy.

She laughed and drew back, her lips plucking at the crown of his cock.

“Don’t act so surprised,” she said on a giggle, swirling her tongue around the sensitive head.

“Or are you telling me Mister Oral Sex for Breakfast, Lunch, and Dinner never had a blow job?” She sucked him deep into her mouth again, her tongue doing something indescribable in the process, and he let out another guttural shout.

The tiny part of his brain still capable of rational thought filed blow job away alongside gym and French and kink for later research, though in this case context did seem to say it all.

And it was not, of course, the first time he had been gifted such pleasure in his many years of life.

But it felt new, felt as if Poppy’s mouth was a miracle, a fantasy, a wonder unseen in the natural world.

Her mouth was so hot, and she was savoring him, devouring him as if she had not eaten for months, sometimes lavishing strokes of her tongue along his shaft, sometimes sucking him deep.

He stroked his fingers through her short wisps of hair and surrendered to her entirely, his mind a litany of love and sensation until his vision went white with the force of his release. Thunder and lightning crashed overhead and Poppy laughed, her voice saturated with satisfaction.

“See,” she said as she cleansed him with a cloth. “I told you having your penis out was going to distract me.”

“I have no complaints,” he said, feeling his voice shaking. The sun had gone down while he was lost in pleasure, and the rain was thudding against the studio’s windows in darkness.

She cuddled into his chest and sighed. “So you work tomorrow? It’s getting late.”

Rai wanted to deny it, to claim another day by Poppy’s side, but that would risk discovery. He nodded and tucked her close. “I fear so.”

“Well, that sucks. But you can come by right after work, right?” She pushed herself up.

Her face was in shadow from the warm, bright lights she’d lit him with.

“I’ll make dinner. And we don’t have to spend the whole night painting.

We can do fun stuff, too.” She flushed. “I mean, like movies and hanging out. Not just sexy stuff.”

“Yes, I would like that.” He did not wish to rise from the cushioned nest, but he was the one who had laid the bonds of lies upon himself. The consequences were his to suffer. He sighed and kissed Poppy, allowing her to draw him to his feet. “I will think of you every moment of the day.”

“Well, don’t get too distracted. I don’t want to be the reason you get fired.”

He cursed inwardly. He had not considered that he might pretend to lose his job!

That would have allowed him greater freedom.

But now if he did, Poppy would feel guilt.

And he supposed he should continue to use his days to soak in the tub.

Although he had indeed survived the weekend, he had been fortunate in the weather, and he already knew he could not count on the rainy days to continue.

“I shall endeavor to remain indispensable to my employer.”

“You’re so dedicated.” Poppy ran her fingers through his hair, smiling at him, though her eyes seemed sad. “Did you want some food before you go? We have some snacks.”

Regret filled him, but he shook his head. “It is past the time when I should depart. I will call you at five tomorrow evening.” He removed his beer helmet and set it on the work table.

“Please do. I’ll be waiting with bated breath.” Poppy tipped up to kiss him, open-mouthed and passionate. “I’ll help you gather your things. You can leave the hat here, though, if you want. ”

After they had dressed, Rai went with her to the bedroom, stopping in his tracks when he saw the shreds of red and green wrapping paper on the floor.

You didn’t strike me as a save-the-paper kind of guy.

He glanced over his shoulder at Poppy, who was busily gathering the clothes they had flung about the room. “I didn’t see your bag,” she said as she folded his discarded trousers. “Is it in the living room?”

“Perhaps,” he lied. He had brought no bag, merely stuffed his clothes in his faerie hoard along with his water bottles.

“I’ll go get it.” Poppy set the clothes on the bed and hurried out the door.

Rai hastened to snatch up the fragments of wrapping paper, stuffing them as fast as he could through the portal to his cache.

He was not certain what he would do with the bits of paper, but even as he cursed their recalcitrance, the way they insisted on fluttering about and escaping in the wind of his motion, he refused to give up until every bit of the bright wrapping was safely tucked away.

It could not be more useless than the super balls that were still hiding in the corners of his pocket space. And he wanted it.

Poppy returned. “I can’t find the bag. What color is it?”

“Blue.” Rai scooped his clothing in his arms. “But it is of no matter. I shall retrieve it another day.” He would have to purchase a bag that he could conveniently find the next time he visited. His ruse grew more complicated with each day!

“If you say so.” Poppy hesitated, then hurled herself at him, wrapping her arms around his waist. Rai disentangled one arm from his piled clothing and held her close, inhaling the scent of her hair.

His hair bore the same scent now, from sharing her shampoo, but it smelled more enticing coming from her.

“I will return as soon as I am able,” he murmured, and kissed her cheek.

“You better.” She tightened her arms, burying her face in his shoulder.

“I shall.” He stroked her cheek, tilted her face for one last kiss, then turned to depart.

It was still raining outside, and Rai turned his face up into the pelting drops, savoring the feel as he strode quickly to the sidewalk and around the shielding oleander bush.

The showers and the water bottles and even the dishwashing had been enough to sustain him, but ah , nothing compared to the blissful freshness of rain, without chemical additives or cleansers or plastic.

He paused, shoving his armful of clothes into his hoard and tearing at the buttons of his wave-patterned shirt.

It would not do for his wings to shred it as he flew into the skies, not when Poppy had given him a gift to match.

The raindrops fell delightfully upon his chest and shoulders, and he closed his eyes and sighed as he set his wings free, preparing to launch into flight.

Something niggled at him, and he paused. A gift to match…

Splashing footsteps pattered suddenly behind him. “Rai, you forgot your—”

He whirled to meet Poppy’s eyes, which were round as moons as she stared at him. At his wings, which were trembling and crackling with the storm’s energy. At his true form, all exposed to her sight, no glamours shielding him, not even the pale filter over his skin.

“—umbrella,” she finished in a whisper, rain trailing down her cheeks in rivers.

And just like that, Rai’s masquerade was over.