The Sculptor's Seduction (The Gentlemen's Guild Book 2)

by Dr. Rebecca Sharp

  He sat unmoving until he heard the front door of the shop below open and close behind her. He heard her voice over and over again – ‘I like the pleasure… Sloane’ – and he knew there was no stopping it now; he was too far gone.

  Sloane stared at the paper in his lap, his right hand shaking with the need that still vibrated through his body. “Fucking hell…” he cursed. His head dropped back against the edge of the chair as he let his hand fall to grab the paper that sat on his lap, the touch sending him over the edge. His hips jerked violently against the seat, a strangled groan erupting from his mouth as his release tore through him – shredding every ounce of restraint he had left and ruining a perfectly fucking nice pair of pants.

  No, this had not been a good idea, he thought as his orgasm began to subside. Tossing the paper off his lap and onto the ground, he pushed himself up from the chair and stalked out of his studio, opening the second door that had been at the top of the stairs which led into a small apartment he furnished to stay at when he was there working late on a project.

  Cyn was a fucking deadly sin.

  Chapter 3

  Cyn was just putting on her mascara when she heard her phone buzz on the nightstand. She scrambled over to the bed, grabbing her cell off of the charger.

  Tash. Finally.

  “Thank God,” Cyn answered. “I was about to send the police out after you.” It was almost eleven. Usually, Tash wrapped up her evening… adventures… much earlier in the morning.

  “Yeah, well I’m pretty sure I should be fucking handcuffed for some of the things I did last night,” Tash replied with a breathless laugh. “Holy shit, Cyn. Holy fucking shit.”

  “Is that a good holy shit or a bad holy shit? What happened?”

  “Definitely a deliciously good holy shit. I’ve never… so many times…” Cyn listened to her friend and roommate ramble on about her night with Pierce. Her tale ending with, “I’m pretty sure that my legs aren’t going to work in a few hours after I finally get some sleep. We definitely cannot go to the gym today; well, you can, but I can’t.”

  Cyn laughed at her friend’s sexual overexertion. “Well, I’m glad you had a good night. I was getting worried there when I didn’t hear from you early this morning.”

  “Oh, it was so good. If you only knew…” She trailed off, clearly remembering more of her ‘delicious’ interactions with Pierce. Cyn, meanwhile, moved back into the bathroom to continue to get ready. “How was your night?”

  How was her night…

  “Interesting,” she drawled. “Yeah, I think that’s probably the best word for it.”

  “What does that mean? Was he any good?” Her friend pressed. “I mean, what was his name – Shawn… Steve…”

  “Sloane.” His name still sending shivers down her spine.

  “Right – Sloane.” Tash said matter-of-factly. “I mean, he seemed like the quiet-type, but those ones are usually excellent in bed, in my experience…” And boy, did she have more experience than Cyn; she’d been doing this for longer.

  They’d met at a club three years ago, right after… well… everything that had happened with Marcus. Cyn had gone out alone – looking for alcohol and an escape. She’d wanted to stop her hurt and the way she decided to accomplish that was to just sleep with whomever she desired; she’d put too much value on her relationship with Marcus and now, she needed to learn that sex meant nothing – otherwise it would always have the potential to destroy her.

  Tash had struck up a conversation with her at the bar; they both loved to dance and ended up out on the floor enticing nearly every guy in the club with dance moves that were definitely not taught at Juilliard. It was the first time she’d felt powerful. She’d watched how Tash toyed with all of the men watching her, keeping them in the palm of her hand as she flitted from one to the next; they’d fought for her attention, for the chance to be with her. Cyn had been amazed, realizing for the first time that, like Tash, she could be in control; she could take whatever she wanted from whomever she wanted and then cut them off; she didn’t have to be the one who was always expecting more, always assuming every interaction had to mean more.

  Before Tash left the club that night with a very good-looking Latino, she gave Cyn her cell number. Cyn had the courtesy to wait until ten o’clock the next morning before texting her – ‘I want to do what you do.’ It started with just more nights at the club – drinking enough to feel good, dancing enough to feel desired; intoxicated by the control she could wield over someone else through their desire for her. She selectively slept with men that she was attracted to, finally beginning to train herself that sex could just be sex.

  “Cyn?” Tash’s annoyed voice broke through her memories.

  “What? Yeah. Sorry, I’m getting ready for work.” And she was running behind.

  “Do you have showings today?” Tash was fun, energetic, and easily distracted – completely forgetting whatever she’d been asking about Sloane. Thankfully, since she wasn’t sure she had an answer.

  “Yeah, I have three this afternoon and then I’m at the Paradise tonight.”

  Right. She also had a day job showing houses for Keller-Williams and worked most nights at one of the most exclusive strip clubs in the city – the Paradise; not quite what she’d planned for her life, but hey – sometimes life makes you trade in your pointe shoes for poles.

  She’d forgotten the connection by now, but somehow Tash knew the owner or manager of the Paradise back then and after seeing Cyn dance at clubs, she’d asked her if she ever thought about stripping. The question had taken her aback, she wouldn’t deny it.

  You don’t go to Juilliard aspiring to be a pole dancer. Although, if they knew the strength that it took to work the pole, they might think twice about their course offerings…

  She’d taken a few days to think about it. Finally, Tash just told her to try it one night – no pressure, no strings. One dance was all it took; the way that they looked at her – like she was everything and anything that they could want; the way that she could bring their cocks to attention and the men to their knees… she was in control, especially at the Paradise. Dancers were in charge of who they wanted to offer any extras too. If someone upset or annoyed her, she could have them banned. At least there, she knew that the men who ogled her were only after one thing – one thing that she decided whether or not she wanted to bestow on them.

  It was the last thing she’d ever imagined herself doing; it became the only thing that made her feel safely in control.

  “Gotcha… I was gonna ask if you wanted to grab lunch, but I guess you’re swamped. So, anyway,” Tash said emphatically. “What happened with Sloane? I’m super curious now, seriously. Plus, I’m about to get in a cab and you know how I hate to sit in awkward silence with the cabby because I never know what to say.”

  For all that she could talk, Tash had these random circumstances where she was awkwardly quiet and uncomfortable – cab ride and elevators were the ones that came to mind.

  “Alright, one sec – ooph!” Cyn stumbled trying to put her kitten heels on while keeping the phone propped between her ear and shoulder.

  Where did she even start? – Definitely not with the erotic dreams that had plagued her all night.

  “He was interesting… and he was really looking for a model, which I can’t discuss because I had to sign an NDA.”

  “Ooo kinky.” The enthusiasm in Tash’s voice was unmistakable.

  Cyn let out a burst of laughter, taking one last look around before grabbing her briefcase for the showing and the gym bag that contained everything she needed to change at the Paradise. Tonight, it included a few more things since she was going to Sloane’s afterward; the thought had her biting her lip.

  “Yeah… no. At least, not from what I read. He literally didn’t want me to touch him, Tash. It was ridiculous.”

  “Wait, what? Why not? Is he gay?”

  “Definitely not. Most. Definitely. Not.”

  “So, you did end
up getting some then? I told you, the quiet ones are always the best in bed.” Cyn could just imagine what the cab driver was thinking right now.

  “No, I really didn’t and not for lack of trying or for lack of him being physically attracted to me. That part was blatantly obvious.” Cyn smiled. “There was no way he was going to be able to hide that large of a hard-on in that tight of pants.”

  “So, he wanted you… but he didn’t want you?” Tash asked in clear confusion.

  “Yeah, it was so weird. Maybe it was because I’m an escort… some people are funny about that… except then why ask me to come back?” Cyn mused as she climbed into the Uber that was going to take her to her first apartment showing on the Upper East Side.

  “Well, I know what I said about the quiet ones, but he seems like a wasted effort if you ask me. Just model for him and call it a day.”

  “Mmm, I don’t know about that. I think I can crack him – I’ve learned from the best.”

  “As flattered as I am, even I know when to cut my losses. Why waste your time?”

  “I don’t know… I feel like we are in this power struggle even though we just met. Not to mention, he’s gorgeous. You left before getting the full picture – tall, broad… and those eyes; I could tell you the things that they do to me, but I’m trying to stay in a professional state of mind. I mean, Pierce is straight-up gorgeous, but Sloane is that kind of sexy that sneaks up on you and fucks you from behind before you even realize that you were bent over waiting for it.”

  “Jeez, Cyn… I think you might need some quality time with your vibrator because it sounds like you need some release and I don’t think that’s coming from Sloane any time soon. Seriously, how long has it been?”

  Cyn groaned. She really was letting Sloane make her all hot and bothered – and the worst part was that it was precisely because he was trying not to want her.

  “Shut up – like four months.” Or closer to six; she’d been picky lately. “I just want to see him give in to wanting me.”

  There was a distinct pause of silence. Cyn was about to check and see if the call had dropped before Tash replied, “Just watch yourself, Cyn.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Just make sure you don’t push yourself past the limits of what you are willing to feel just in order to prove that no one can deny you.” Tash sighed. “Alright, I gotta go. I’m home and I have no hands to search for my keys. I’ll talk to you later.”

  “Yeah… talk soon,” Cyn said mildly, the caution of her friend’s warning making her feel uneasy. She hung up the phone and stepped out of the car in front of the brand new, multi-billion-dollar apartment building – One57 – that she had the pleasure of showing this afternoon.

  She stared up at the sleek, modern skyscraper, wondering what it would be like to live at the very top floor. That definitely wasn’t in her cards. No, for the past six months or so, she seemed to be stuck in this in-between place. She cringed remembering how she’d told Sloane last night that she was saving up money to open a dance studio. Where had that even come from?

  Some place that beat inside her chest that she’d been trying to forget about for years.

  She hadn’t thought about her dream since, well, just before graduation. After what Marcus had done, she completely shut out him and any part of her life that had to do with her heartbreak. Unfortunately, that meant eliminating ballet; ballet and Marcus were inextricable in her mind; he’d tainted every chassé, coupé, and croisé. Ballet had been romantic and idealized – just like how she had felt about their relationship; it had made her weak. And so, she hadn’t danced ballet since. Her pointe shoes and ballet flats were tucked away in a box somewhere in her closet; she was surprised she hadn’t burned them at the time.

  She’d thought about ballet since then, but not about opening up her school. The moment the words had come out of her mouth, it had taken a practiced restraint to conceal her own shock at the admission. Sure, she’d been saving her money, but towards what purpose, she wasn’t sure. That’s what she’d been trying to figure out the past few months – where was her life going? She’d had a plan before, but that plan was impossible now.

  It wasn’t that she was unhappy with her life, she thought as she rode the elevator up to the fortieth floor. She enjoyed every aspect of it – her friends, her jobs, her freedom – and yet, she’d started to feel like something was missing. Even though there was an emptiness, it had begun to weigh on her.

  Except last night.

  No, last night with Sloane, she hadn’t felt any vacancy inside of her. Maybe it was because she’d been working so hard at keeping control over herself; or maybe, the challenge of breaking him down was what she needed.

  The elevator announced her arrival. A rehearsed smile spread over her face as the doors opened and she moved to greet the realtors and their clients who were there to look at the vacant apartment.

  His chest heaved as it tried to drag oxygen back into his depleted body. He’d sprinted the last half-mile of his run – a run that had been three miles longer than his normal five at five. Five miles at five AM every day.

  His body had craved a greater physical exertion even though his sleep had been restless – and she was the reason for both.

  His still-vibrating legs carried him through the flower shop and up the stairs into the tiny apartment where he’d spent the night. He needed to grab his things and go back to his real apartment – the one that had a shower. Thank God, he kept a spare set of running clothes there because he’d just completely tossed his pants from last night; it probably wasn’t the smartest thing to do considering how expensive they were, but the thought of wearing them again, knowing just how close he’d been to losing control, wasn’t something that he needed to do to himself.

  No, he’d taken them off last night, thrown on the pair of shorts he was wearing now, and taken the pants outside to the dumpster before bed – as though he couldn’t even stand to keep them in the room with him overnight while he slept lest they remind his dream-self of her.

  Unfortunately, pants present or not, that dream-self needed no help remembering the raven-haired vixen who’d almost shattered his celibacy. He’d slept nude and had woken to wet sheets and his hand wrapped around his aching cock.

  Christ.

  Even now with his body humming with adrenaline and exhaustion from his run, the damn thing began to harden. He slammed his fist into the wall in frustration. He was better than this; he was better than his father and he would be stronger than his sexual desires.

  Grabbing his shirt and jacket that he’d been wearing the night before, he stalked out of the tiny room, locking both that door and the door to his studio behind him. Rummaging through the pockets for his cell phone, he pulled it out and dialed Pierce’s phone number.

  “You’re welcome, my friend.” The cocky asshole answered the phone.

  “Are you entertained?” Sloane asked acerbically.

  “Very. Although I can’t quite tell yet what is more entertaining – your frustration or that delicious piece of ass I spent last night with.” He laughed. “I hope Miss Cyn was just as pleasurably exhausting as her friend.”

  “Why them?” Sloane asked, not that it mattered now. “I agreed to let you provide the options, why couldn’t you do it the normal way?”

  “Because, Sloane, normal is boring.” Pierce sighed as though just even having to explain himself was boring. “Just like the models you always pick. I’ve seen them – I know you always want the goody-two-shoes ones. And it annoys me to see you limit your work to uninteresting innocents.”

  “I’m not limiting myself,” he ground out, trying to keep his voice characteristically calm so Pierce wouldn’t read any further into his dissatisfaction.

  “I mean, I personally try not to waste time on virgins, but I guess if you’re into that kind of thing, it’s whatever,” the devil rambled on. “I just saw them and had a feeling that switching it up a little bit might be good for you.”


  “Yeah, I’m sure.”

  “Don’t tell me you sent her home last night? After all that hard work that I did… If you make me find more models, I swear, they will be far more… well, let’s just leave it at more. I think you know where I’m going with that.” He chuckled to himself, always thoroughly entertained by his own machinations.

  “No, I didn’t. Don’t worry, she signed the NDA; I’ll sculpt her.”

  “Wonderful!” Pierce exclaimed. “Now, if you don’t mind. I need to shower off the layer of sex that’s all over me and get out of here so the cleaning lady can take care of the mess I made.”

  Sloane rolled his eyes, “You’re ridiculous.” That effectively ended their conversation as he got out of the cab in front of One57. He glanced up quickly at the complex that his company, RSP Realty, had built – one of the many, successful new real estate developments he’d completed in the past few years. It wasn’t his favorite, but it was the newest and in the most convenient location for him so that’s why he’d chosen an apartment inside.

  Tristan and Ellie lived in one of the penthouses, but Sloane had chosen just one of the standard, multi-million-dollar, one-bedroom units. A bigger space hinted at things that he knew weren’t in the cards for him. Walking inside, he ignored the bustle going on inside the building; there were several units that had just become available and Saturdays were an ideal day for showings.

  The elevator opened onto the sixtieth floor and Sloane walked to the end of the hall where his corner apartment was located. Even though he hadn’t opted for a top-level penthouse, he’d still made sure that his apartment had been a little more customized to his liking.

  The door entered on the far right of the apartment. There was a decent-sized kitchen off to the left when you walked inside; he didn’t cook anymore so it was really only the microwave that ever got used. A half-wall with a countertop and bar stools separated the kitchen from the living space and dining area which lay straight ahead. Like all the other units, any wall that was on the outside of the building was lined with floor-to-ceiling windows. Walking inside, Sloane tossed his shirt and jacket on the back of the sectional that took up the living room, knowing he needed to send them to the dry cleaners.