I kissed him, stroking him once more before I pulled away. “Stay right there.”
He frowned when I climbed off him and sat on the end of my own lounger, picking up the sketchbook and pencil. He remained where he was, bending one knee so he could rest his elbow on it, his cock standing proud against his stomach. He looked just like the statues of the gods we’d seen in Greece, but with a bigger dick.
“Do you know why all the sculptures of men in Greece and Italy always have small dicks?” I asked as I turned to a new page and started outlining his form.
He frowned at me. “Why would I know that? Wait, why do you know that?”
“Art student.” I smirked as my eyes took him in from an artistic perspective, though the man was art. “They believed that a small penis was a sign of intelligence. Hence they depicted their gods and warriors with beautiful bodies and small cocks—strength and intelligence.”
“I don’t know if you’re insulting me or complimenting me. Are you saying it’s small or big?”
I snorted. “Well, I don’t have a lot—or any—experience other than you, but I’m pretty sure it’s not small…”
He lifted a brow, a smirk playing over his lips. “So I’m unintelligent?”
I laughed. “No, babe.”
“You better hurry up drawing my monster dick, piccola, because I’m about to bury it somewhere in a minute.”
“Nope.” I kept drawing, my eyes touching on every bit of him as I captured his likeness.
His damp hair, the carved lines of his face, the tattoos, abs. And, of course, I couldn’t miss the dick that was standing to attention like it was on duty.
“My pussy is off limits until I’m done.”
“Who said anything about your pussy, princess? You just called me unintelligent. Your smart mouth definitely needs occupying.”
My entire body heated at the thought of him fucking my mouth. Or any of me, really. He had me addicted, craving him at all times. I met his gaze as he brought his coffee to those wicked lips.
The sea breeze picked up a little, cooling my flushed skin. “I’ll make a deal with you.”
His lips quirked. “Well, our last deal worked out very well for me, so let’s hear it.”
“You let me draw you, and when I’m done, I’ll suck your dick.”
“Done.”
“Nuh-uh, I’m not done. I’ll suck your dick, but I want you hard and begging,” I said, offering him the same terms he once gave me, well, twice gave me.
His face split into a grin. “Created a damn monster…”
“Well? Are you going to keep it hard for me so I can get a pretty picture?”
He didn’t answer, simply gripped his dick and stroked it. The muscles in his forearm corded, the veins popping against his heavily tattooed skin. Fuck. He made the act of stroking his dick a master class in seduction, and my mouth went dry. I pressed my thighs together, totally unprepared for the need that slammed into me at the sight of him.
“Like this, princess?”
I swallowed hard. “Yep,” I squeaked. I should have known by now that he always got the upper hand, and I would never be in charge here. He had a good ten-plus years of experience on me, and he played dirty.
After a couple of minutes, I wasn’t drawing anymore, my attention fixed on his tattooed fingers gripping his dick, his thumb sweeping the drop of pre-cum over the head.
His gaze met mine, the muscles in his neck straining on a groan. “I think you should beg to suck my cock, Emilia.”
And damn him, I fucking did.
EPILOGUE
GIO
Three years later…
I pulled into the parking garage of the Academy of Art and found Emilia’s car, stopping behind it. For the most part, I left her to it with college and her social life because she had a life outside of me. And I wanted that for her. As long as I was the favorite part of that life, I was happy. Today was different, though. She was only a week off her last exam. In a couple of months, she’d get her degree in Art History. So, I had a gift for her.
Taking the box from the passenger seat, I got out and leaned against the hood. I replied to a few emails on my phone while I waited, but it was only a few minutes before I heard Emilia’s voice echoing off the concrete walls of the garage.
“No one is going to stab me, Adamo. He was trying to hug me.”
“My orders are clear. No touching,” Adamo replied back to her.
“My husband’s orders. Gio is unreasonable and irrational and—”
She rounded the corner and faltered when she saw me. Her sundress rode up her tanned thighs, cardigan falling off one shoulder. Her hair was in a messy bun, a pencil rammed through it. She was so fucking cute.