Page 74 of The Substitute Fiancée

I rummage through my painting supplies and find a large squirrel-hair brush. When I return, Alexander looks at me with curiosity.

I kneel behind him and lean toward his ear.

“I need to review my anatomy lessons,” I murmur.

I feel his body stiffen slightly. Then he exhales slowly.

“Okay,” he says in a slightly husky voice.

Taking the brush, I begin to draw the muscles of his back on his skin, naming them one by one.

“Trapezius,” I murmur as I draw. “Latissimus dorsi…”

My movements are slow, deliberately sensual. His breathing deepens.

“Do you often review your anatomy this way?” he asks, his voice altered by desire.

“No,” I say, blowing softly against his ear. “You inspire me.”

He tries to turn around, to grab me, but I gently pull away.

“Tsk tsk. I’m not done.”

I move around his body and straddle his thighs, ignoring his erection standing between us. Our eyes meet. His are dark, intense.

Brush in hand, I trace the contours of his face. The outline of his lips. Then I gradually descend to his neck, his collarbone.

“Deltoid,” I murmur as I move down to his shoulder. “Pectoralis major. Serratus anterior.”

My hand slowly descends on his chest, the brush grazing his skin.

“Rectus abdominis.”

I feel his muscles contract under my fingers. His breathing is now irregular. His hands settle on my hips, holding me in place.

“Sam,” he says in a husky voice. “You’re playing with fire.”

“I know,” I murmur, leaning toward him until our lips almost touch. “It’s for art.”

“You’re going to drive me crazy,” he breathes before flipping me onto the cushions.

His lips land on mine, hungry, devouring me. One hand grabs my breast through the fabric, while the other seizes my ass, pressing me against him. I feel his erection against my stomach, his hot breath on my skin, as he undoes my wrap top and his mouth captures my hardened nipple.

“You’re a work of art too,” he murmurs as he feasts on my breasts.

I think I could come just from the sensation of his mouth on my chest. My moans fill the room, my body tenses with desire. When he moves lower to remove my pants, I’m more than ready to welcome him.

“Come,” I tell him, “don’t make me wait.”

“You played with me,” he says in a husky voice. “Now it’s my turn.”

And with a perfectly controlled movement, he grabs my thighs and pulls me against his mouth. His tongue finds my clit, and my entire body arches with pleasure. A wave of heat overwhelms me, my muscles contract with desire.

“Tell me what you like,” he breathes against my pussy. “I want to know everything, to better make you die of pleasure.”

His tongue takes possession of my intimacy, alternating caresses, suctions, and pressure. I’m completely incoherent, my thoughts blur, my hands grip around his head.

“My God!” I moan, unable to control my cry.