Recluse (Wolfes of Manhattan 2)

Finally, I had to pull away and inhale.

The hell with an inhale. That was a gasp.

Water dripped onto my shoulders and chest from my wet hair. Roy smiled and handed me a smaller towel.

I squeezed as much water as I could out of my hair and into the towel as he did the same.

Then I looked at him. Just looked at this incredible man, his damp hair sticking to his shoulders, his cock huge and erect, even his large feet perfectly formed and beautiful, not a callus in sight.

He stroked his index finger down my cheek and over my jawline. “You’re absolutely breathtaking, silver.”

What did he see in me that was so special?

I thought back to the portrait I’d begun in his studio. Yes, the techniques had come back to me. Yes, I’d been moderately pleased with the result so far. But I’d never be satisfied with it.

I’d never be in the same artistic class as Roy Wolfe.

Never in a million years.

The man was a genius. He had painting in his soul. His work spoke to me—to everyone—on so many different levels.

Then I couldn’t help smiling. The gorgeous abstract he’d created just last night, his depiction of me, hadn’t satisfied him.

He didn’t think he got my eyes right.

How could he not know that he’d glorified my eyes? Made them so much more than they were in reality?

Was an artist never satisfied with his work?

Was I no different from him?

Emotion coiled through me. I was feeling something. Something new. Something vibrant and real and a little bit scary.

It wasn’t love. It was way too soon for that.

But this man had awakened something in me. Something I’d never known and could have never even imagined.

“Roy.”

“What, silver?”

“Take me to your bed.”

He didn’t pick me up and hoist me over his shoulder. No. I could imagine Rock doing that, but not Roy.

There was a gentleness about Roy. Not in a sissy way, of course. But in a gentlemanly way. No, that wasn’t right either.

He was an artist.

And he’d make love like an artist.

Last night had been fast and furious in his studio, But tonight…

Tonight I’d experience the real Roy Wolfe.

I couldn’t wait.

He took my hand, entwining our fingers together, and led me out of the bathroom and into the bedroom. We were already undressed, which disappointed me in a way. How I’d have loved to peel each layer of clothing from him, exposing his majestic body inch by inch.

Or grab both sides of his shirt and rip it off him, making the buttons fly.

Or command him to strip for me and then ogle him as he disrobed, teasing me.

Maybe I’d do all those things in the future.

Maybe.

Would there be more than just tonight?

Would we ever have what Rock and Lacey had?

Because damn, what I was feeling was…

No, I’d already decided. It was too soon for love.

Too soon…

He gently pushed me down on the bed, knelt before me, and spread my legs. “I wanted to taste you so badly last night.” He inhaled. “You’re ripe, silver. Ripe and wet and pink and glistening. I can’t wait to bury my tongue deep inside you.”

My nipples tightened and my pussy throbbed.

I was so ready. How long had it been since someone had gone down on me? A long, long time. Blaine hadn’t liked it, though he’d had no problem with me blowing him, of course.

The few times I’d experienced it, I’d loved it. Loved it.

And now—

“Oh!”

His tongue slid over my clit.

Shit. This wouldn’t take long.

I closed my eyes and leaned downward until my back was flat on the bed. If it wasn’t going to last long, I sure as hell was going to savor every minute.

“Damn, silver, you taste like heaven.”

He nibbled at my clit this time, and then slid his tongue downward, over my slit and back up again.

I gripped the comforter in my fists, tensing my thighs.

“Relax, honey.” He kissed my inner thigh. “Relax and enjoy.”

Oh, I was enjoying. I was just tense and eager. Couldn’t wait. Couldn’t wait—

“Fuck!”

Torpedoes shot through me.

Torpedoes that shook me to my core.

How was I coming after only a few seconds? How?

But the how didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. Nothing except the explosion Roy was causing in my body, in my heart.

I tingled, the shivers racing from my pussy outward, through my body, my limbs, my fingers and toes.

One big quake took me over.

I moaned. I yelled. What words, I couldn’t say. Only emotion emanated from me. All logic, all thoughts, were gone.

When I finally began to descend, my pussy again became my focus. Fingers were inside. Long thick fingers thrusting in and out, in and out, in and out.

And a voice. A deep masculine voice.

“You’re so hot, silver. So hot. Keep coming. Keep coming.”

I sank then. Sank deep into Roy’s mattress, cloaked in sheer delight and contentment.

I could never move again and be completely happy. Hopelessly and blissfully happy.