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

by Dr. Rebecca Sharp

  “Hey there, sleepyhead.” Tash’s raspy voice greeted her as she walked out into the shared kitchen in their apartment.

  “Oh, hey. I didn’t think I’d see you this morning.”

  “Well… yeah. My plans for the day ended up being cancelled – which I’m not complaining about since my night ended pretty late.”

  “Yeah, I got home late too, but I didn’t even hear you come in.”

  “I think you were a little busy…” Tash’s grin said that she’d come home about the time that Cyn had finally gotten some relief from Sloane. “Glad you took my advice though – best way to get him off of your mind.”

  “Yeah, hopefully.”

  “I made some eggs; there are still some in the pan if you want them.” Cyn sent her a grateful smile, walking over to the stove and loading up a plate. “So, I take it your night was just as unfulfilling as the previous one?”

  “I danced last night.” Cyn couldn’t stop the confession from spilling out from her lips.

  “You stripped for him and he still managed to keep it in his pants?!” Tash exclaimed, her hand coming up to catch some of her bite of food as eggs began to fly from her mouth. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

  Cyn shook her head frantically. Don’t you dare cry about this, Cyn; control is everything.

  “No… no.” She shook her head one more time. “I danced ballet for him, Tash.”

  If she thought her first confession had shocked her friend – it was nothing compared to the second. This time, there was no outburst, just a silently, somber astonishment.

  “We were talking… I don’t even remember. And then he asked me to dance for him. I mean, he doesn’t know about the Paradise, so I could have done anything and yet, I just started to move into a routine that I knew by heart; it was like I couldn’t stop it.”

  “Does he know?” Cyn just shook her head. “Shit, Cyn. That’s big… that’s…”

  “I know. But there was none of the nauseating, debilitating pain; I don’t know why.”

  Tash looked down at her food, slowly shaking her head back and forth.

  “I told you to be careful. It’s a whole different level of the game when you are working for the attention; you’re no longer in control. I know how important that is to you.”

  “I know.” But she also didn’t know what else to say. She couldn’t stop wanting him.

  “It’s your life, Cyn, and I will support most of whatever you choose to do with it and this is no exception. I just want to make sure that you understand the path that you are going down isn’t the one that I have shown you; the one you are going down has two possible endings, one of which you’ve already experienced.”

  Cyn stared at her friend, knowing that she only had her best interests at heart.

  “I just—” She paused as her phone began to vibrate in her pocket. Pulling it out she saw an unknown local number. She didn’t know why she answered it – usually she would just let it go to voicemail; but this time, she didn’t.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey Cyn. It’s Sloane.” Her heart thudded in her chest and her eyes shot up to Tash’s questioning stare.

  “Oh, hi…” Why was he calling her? Was he going to tell her that he no longer needed her after last night? Had she gone too far? “I didn’t… I wasn’t…”

  God, she sounded like a moron.

  “Who is it?” Tash asked her, concerned by her stuttered words. “What’s going on?” Cyn shushed her, waving at her friend to indicate that everything was fine; Tash ignored her directions. “Is it him?!” She persisted.

  Cyn shot her a look and walked back into her bedroom for the focus to finish the call, leaving the door open so that Tash would hear that nothing was wrong.

  Aside from the fact that her body seemed to be trying to offer this stubborn, abrasive, and attractive man her heart on a silver platter.

  Sloane strolled into One57’s gym the following morning, determined to do some damage. Clearly, his workout the previous day hadn’t done shit to diminish his desire for Cyn.

  He hadn’t stayed at the studio last night, instead returning to his apartment. He’d stripped out of his uncomfortably stiff jeans and t-shirt as he walked through his bedroom and headed straight for the shower. With the nozzle turned as cold as that sucker would go, he stepped head first into the punishing stream. Only the cold hadn’t affected his erection in the slightest. He stood with his hands pressed flat against the cold tile, letting the water rush over him.

  After a few minutes, it became clear that the heat radiating from his body was heating the water around him, Sloane cursed and wrapped his hand around his cock. He closed his eyes and saw Cyn dancing again, just for him, in the glow of his studio lights… naked. He groaned feeling his release explode out of him onto the wall; the water washing away the evidence of his desire in moments.

  It hadn’t been enough.

  Sloane pleasured himself a second time; finally, his erection subsided enough that he could collapse into bed without worry of permanent damage to himself – not that he ever planned on using it like that anyway.

  Masturbation had become a fact of life. He wasn’t like Pierce who seemed to need sex every day. For the most part, he could go months without needing to do what he’d just done. It had taken time for him to get to that point, but his body had become accustomed to it. The daily runs and intense workouts helped exert his body while his business and his art kept his mind focused on more important things.

  Normally, Sunday was a rest day. But not anymore.

  Whatever was happening to him – because of Cyn – was what he was afraid of. He dropped his keys, cell, and water bottle over by the weight rack and began his warmup routine – steadily working up through the weights until his muscles began to burn painfully.

  It wasn’t just his desire for her that was messing with his mind, but seeing how unraveled that desire made him. Most of the time, he’d just be able to sleep off his physical attraction to someone. Not Cyn. For her, his body wouldn’t be distracted from her. And the urgency and frequency with which it needed to be relieved only further reminded him of his father.

  And his different, nightly whores.

  His stomach rolled at the memory of the women his father had brought home – drunk… high… or just straight-up prostitutes looking for their money. It didn’t matter to Jeff Peterson; as long as it had legs that spread wide enough, he would fuck it. And it was never enough. Weeks would go by and Sloane would think everything was finally back to normal; until something or someone set his dad off and he would disappear for a day only to return with his latest piece of ass.

  Sloane moved to the pull-up bar as the familiar fire of rage began to burn in his blood. He remembered all the nights he’d cried, trying to pretend he didn’t hear the sounds of his sex-addicted father in the room next door.

  He’d lost count of how many pull-ups he’d done. Each strenuous flexing of his back muscles a small release of the anger he’d built up inside and diligently tried to suppress. He hardly ever really went back to these memories, but that was what Cyn did to him.

  She was making him feel.

  He didn’t want to feel. Feeling led to insatiable need, and insatiable need led to an addiction to pleasure, and that addiction was bound to hurt someone eventually, just like it had—

  “Man, you are fuckin’ killing those pull-ups.” Tristan’s impressed voice cut through the most agonizing of his thoughts.

  Sloane blinked a few times, registering his friend staring at him going nuts on the pull-up bar; a few other people in the gym had started to stare, too. He quickly dropped to the ground, feeling the blood pumping furiously through his arms; his muscles tingling in protest for pushing them past their limit.

  “Everything good, my man?”

  Sloane picked up his water bottle and took a long swig. “Yeah,” he replied, his breath still panting. “Tried a new pre-workout this morning…”

  “Oh, nice. You’ll have to let m
e try some of that. How many pull-ups did you even do?”

  “I… ahh… I wasn’t counting.” He bent over to grab his towel, purposely avoiding Tristan’s curious expression. “How’s Ellie?”

  “Incredible.” And there was that smile again, the look that made Sloane feel jealous of his friend’s happiness. “That’s why I’m late. I wanted to be down here an hour ago… but, you know what they say, ‘happy wife, happy life.’” The satisfied smirk told Sloane just how happy, Tristan had just been making his fiancée.

  He gave his friend a tight smile before moving over to the row machine.

  “Sorry for the TMI.” Tristan laughed – he wasn’t really sorry. “Oh, I’ve been wondering – how did everything go the other night with Pierce and those women?”

  And he thought he was going to have an hour’s respite from thinking about Cyn.

  “Well, thanks to Pierce, I now have a model.”

  “I wish I could tell you to just ignore him and not let him play his games, but – and I’m speaking from personal experience here – his schemes usually get worse the more you try to escape them.”

  “I should’ve just talked to him… instead of getting stuck in this mess.” It was far too late for that now.

  It had been too late the second he’d said her name, calling her into his life.

  “Who did you end up picking?”

  “Cynthia.”

  “Well… I can’t say that I feel bad for you. I’m sure you’ll find a way to make Pierce’s idea of fun far more entertaining for yourself than for him…” Tristan trailed off with a suggestive hopefulness that he would get more out of the situation than Pierce.

  If he only knew… All Sloane could manage was a brief nod.

  “You sure everything is ok?” Tris asked. “Look, I know I came to you after hitting Pierce… or well, I guess technically, you came to me, but you know that beneath it all he’ll give it a rest if you need him to.”

  “I know.” Sloane sighed. “I’m gonna go grab a treadmill before they get too crowded – need to get my cardio in before I head back over to my studio.” He picked up his water bottle and towel, giving Tristan a tense smile.

  “Yeah, sure.” His tone sounded like he didn’t buy whatever it was Sloane was trying to pass off as nothing, but Tris respected him enough to not push it. “Catch up with you later.”

  “Tell Ellie I said hello.”

  “She said she was coming down in a little so depending if you go nuts on the treadmill you might be able to tell her yourself.” Tristan slapped him on the back and began to walk over towards the weights. “Oh, shit!” he exclaimed, stopping Sloane in his tracks. “We’ll see you Friday night, right?”

  The blank stare that Sloane responded with must have indicated that he had no idea or recollection of what Tristan was talking about. A Guild meeting?

  “Our engagement party. You’re coming, right?”

  Shit. “Oh, yeah. I’ll be there.” Sloane quickly reassured him, pasting a smile on his face. Friday. He was supposed to see Cyn on Friday when she was done with work.

  Except, he didn’t want her to go to work. He wanted her there with him.

  “Cool.”

  “Hey, do you mind if I bring a…”

  “Cynthia?” Tristan finished for him, quickly concealing the sudden elevation of his eyebrows in surprise. “Yeah, of course, man. And, don’t worry, I won’t tell Pierce. I think I’ll let you play that one out however you think is best…”

  “Thanks.” They parted ways again. Sloane was headed to the row of treadmills lined against the windows of the room, but the sharp stabbing in his stomach told him that he needed to eat; cardio would have to wait.

  Fucking Pierce.

  Sloane walked out of the gym, wondering what the hell he’d just been thinking. His brain had flown through a thousand facts in a few seconds – remembering the engagement party, realizing it was the same night he was supposed to see Cyn, and then the genius idea that if he brought her to the party, she wouldn’t be working that night – whatever that meant. And then the words were out of his mouth before any of the repercussions could sink in.

  The way that they had left things the other night; the way her switch had flipped as soon as he’d gotten too close – just the way that his had every time she came within kissing distance of him.

  He groaned remembering the heat of her kiss. He grabbed his shaker and mixed up a protein shake to hold him over until he could grab some real food on the way to his studio. He should have been stronger.

  Restraint, Sloane.

  But that look on her tear-stained face – the raw, open emotion that had crushed her – he’d felt responsible for it. And, in that moment, he would have done anything to take the hurt from her. It was the one comfort that he had – knowing that he hadn’t kissed her solely because of his need; he’d kissed her because he’d known it would heal her.

  But everything that was happening to him – between them – was far too complicated for Pierce to want to understand, even if Sloane felt the desire to explain it to him. No, Pierce was going to take one look at the two of them showing up to Tristan’s engagement party and smirk with the satisfaction of success.

  Fuck Pierce.

  Sloane never cared about winning – that was only something Tristan and Pierce had in common. He wasn’t going to say anything; let Pierce think whatever the hell he wanted. It changed nothing. If anything, maybe he would lay off believing that he’d succeeded in making Sloane uncomfortable.

  The truth was, he had.

  His cell vibrating in his pocket distracted him. Speak of the devil.

  “Hello.”

  “Hey there, Sloane.” Pierce’s darkly entertained voice responded. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything…”

  “Nope.” His voice remained calm and nonchalant in spite of Pierce’s allusion.

  “Well, I should be,” he scoffed. “I wouldn’t have let that one out of my bed until Monday morning. Hell, I probably would have skipped working on Monday too just to make sure I had my fill.”

  “Did you call for a specific reason?”

  “I mean, just to collect my ‘thank you’ for providing you with probably the hottest model you’ve ever used.”

  “Thanks.” Why even bother fighting it?

  “You’re no fun, you know that? I almost regret helping Tristan because he was so much more easily provoked.”

  “Really, is there anything else you called for? I’m about to head into my studio to work.”

  “No fucking fun,” Pierce grumbled. “Seriously, how was she? I have to know. I mean her friend and I… well, I can’t complain; she kept up nicely. I can’t say I wasn’t a little disappointed though when you snagged Cyn out from under me; I was looking forward to exploring both of them.”

  “Do you really think I’m going to tell you?”

  “I know you don’t kiss and tell, but it was worth a shot.” Pierce sucked in a breath. “Man, was Cyn a piece of work though. God, I can just imagine those breasts… those long legs—”

  “I have to go; Morgan’s calling.” Sloane hung up on his friend. Pierce wasn’t imagining either of those things, he was just saying it to try and provoke him – which hanging up on him might be considered as, but Sloane couldn’t handle the temptation to think about those things himself. Especially when he’d felt them pressed up against him the night before, taunting his body with everything that he could have – everything that he wanted to have.

  Everything that he was afraid of needing.

  He walked into the flower shop; it wasn’t open on Sundays, but the owners were usually in preparing various bouquets and weekend deliveries.

  “Hello, Mr. Sloane.” Mrs. Stone greeted him with a smile. “Having a good weekend?”

  “Yes, thank you,” he murmured. “Have a good day.” He headed straight for the stairwell, taking the steps two at a time to the landing.

  Shutting the door behind him, he stared headily into the room, s
eeing Cyn floating across the floor like she had been last night. He felt the heat and desire of her body as it had molded to him; the feeling almost brought him to his knees. As though it had happened, he imagined himself pushing her up against the cool hardness of the marble and felt her shudder at the temperature shock. He saw his hands on her, her clothes on the floor, her legs wrapped around him as he pushed—

  Restraint, Sloane.

  He slammed his fist back against the door. His arousal ached heavily in the sweatpants he’d thrown on – a state that he now resigned himself to remaining in until this sculpture was finished and Cyn was out of his life forever. Sloane ignored the sudden burning in his chest at that thought.

  Focus.

  He needed to call her about Friday and then get to work. Rummaging through the small file cabinet in the corner, he pulled out her NDA and tapped in the number she listed into his phone and hit dial before he convinced himself not to.

  “Hello?” Every cell in his body responded.

  “Hi, Cyn. It’s Sloane.”

  “Oh… hi,” she replied, her voice sounded startled. “I didn’t… I wasn’t…” Her stammer surprised him. She hadn’t been expecting him to call – just like she hadn’t been expecting him to ask her to dance. It was in those unexpected moments that he saw the vulnerable Cyn that she tried to hide from the world.

  Sloane heard her shush someone in the background and immediately his desire turned to a jealous anger, wondering if she was with another guy. “What’s up?”

  “I’m sorry to bother you,” he began tightly, his mind assuming the worst. “I wanted to speak to you about Friday.”

  “Oh.” Sloane placed his hand against the cool marble, trying to breathe through his torrent of emotions while she waited for him to elaborate.

  “I forgot that I have an engagement party for a friend of mine – Tristan, he was at the Roof the other night.”

  “Oh, ok. It’s not a problem. Just tell me when—”

  “No,” he interrupted her. For a second he debated again whether or not he should invite her. But, the feeling he just got wondering if she was with another man… He would do anything to not feel that again. “I want you to come with me.”