Page 55 of Stone: The Precursor

Descending the steps two at a time, I reach the back door to her gallery. Soft jazz music notes escape through the wall. It’s different, with an electric melody. It adds something interesting to the music. I knock, waiting, energy buzzing through my body.Time to see my girl.

“Who is it?”

“Open the door, Countess.”

The door doesn’t open right away. I can sense her reluctance.

“What do you want?” Her hesitant voice comes through the wood.

“Open the door.”

Again, she makes me wait. She wants to deny me, but her natural curiosity won’t let her. I’ve come to know my girl. She’s inquisitive. She cracks it open, peering around the edge. Her expression is filled with confusion.

“Is there something you need?”

The cute frown on her face is sexy as hell. Bratty energy radiates from her green eyes. She has no clue what I need. Namely her laid out on the floor, my cum coating her breasts and belly. I push open the door easily, forcing her back.

“Hey! You can’t just come in here like you own the place, Stone!”

I don’t tell her that I’ve been in her gallery before, that I’m in the process of getting a key to the upstairs apartment. I close it behind me and lock it. I don’t want to be disturbed.

I take her in. The black smock she’s wearing. The same one she wore to the dinky art studio she used to paint in. It covers her white overalls and pink T-shirt. My eyes roam over the rest of her, from her beat-up sneakers up her thighs encased in those tempting fishnets. I visually assess her, looking for signs that the handsy motherfucker touched her, but she seems unruffled, untouched.

“Can I help you?”

“What are you doing?”

“What do you care?” She puts her hands on her hips.

I do care way too much. That snarky, bitchiness is sexy on her. She’s changed since last summer. I stand there and will my cock to go down. I raise a brow.

“Nice move with the eyebrow. See you around.”

When she moves to open the door, I block it with my body.

“What are you doing? Move!”

I peek over her head, noticing that she’s painting the walls. “How are you getting to the ceiling?”

“None of your business,” She scoffs.

When I spot the paint-splattered buckets stacked up high, irritation radiates through me. She had better not be fucking using plastic buckets to reach the top. “You’re standing on buckets?” Images of her falling make my body run cold.

She shrugs like it’s not a big deal and stands in front of me. “I don’t have a ladder.”

“Fuck’s sake.”I pick her up and set her aside, then walk into the space.

“Hey!”

Picking up the roller that is almost her size, I look at the rickety ass contraption she had set up. “You’re going to break your neck on this shit.”

“My neck. My problem.”

I don’t turn around because her sassy comeback is giving me an inconvenient chub. Instead of thinking about how sexy her snark is, I kick the buckets aside, watching in satisfaction as they fall over and roll away.

“What are you doing!? Cut that out!”

“It’s not safe to stand on.” I pick up the roller and start rolling the white gray paint on the wall.