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

by Dr. Rebecca Sharp

  “I’m burning…” she whispered. His eyes opened and his brow furrowed.

  Releasing her finger, he said, “I don’t think it’s that bad, sweetheart. It will be ok.”

  He watched her throat move as she swallowed. “No, Sloane. I don’t feel my finger anymore.” She licked those full, red lips of hers. “I’m burning…”

  Her meaning clicked and a second later his mouth crushed hers. His tongue delving inside her lips to taste the sweetness he’d only just sampled, hungry for more. Her body pressed back against him and he groaned as her ass pushed against his painfully swollen arousal; he hadn’t had time to… relieve… himself earlier after what had happened this morning, which meant his cock was thoroughly enraged, demanding its release.

  The stove began beeping, but Cyn seemed perfectly content to ignore it. After the third obnoxious siren, he tore his mouth from hers, both of them breathing heavily.

  “You focus on serving dinner, gorgeous.” He began to kiss along her jawline. “And you let me focus on serving you.”

  Cyn moaned, turning her head to look for the spoon that had fallen on the stove – the movement giving him access to her neck. His mouth attached to her neck, sucking and kissing the soft skin as she began to stir.

  His right hand reached down to rest on the side of her thigh, slowly sliding up her sensitive skin, taking her dress with him. He felt her quake underneath his touch as his hand moved towards her front, the tips of his fingers brushing her inner thigh.

  Sloane sucked in a harsh breath, feeling the heat radiating from her center even before he touched her. Her left hand smacked down on the countertop next to the stove when he finally brushed over her lace-clad sex, supporting herself as her body shook with pleasure.

  “Just keep stirring, sweetheart,” he encouraged her as his finger hooked underneath the edge of her panties and pulled the moist fabric to the side of her folds.

  “I’m burning, Sloane,” she repeated breathlessly, her mouth parted, gasping for air as all of her energy tried to focus on stirring the aromatic sauce bubbling on the stove.

  He groaned hearing her whispered words as his hand slipped into her core. “Don’t worry, gorgeous, I won’t let you go up in smoke.”

  Two fingers slid over her clit, mimicking the circles she was making with the spoon. Her hips began to undulate against him, her hand moving faster as a not-so-subtle encouragement for him to do the same.

  His other hand on her hip pulled her tighter against his arousal, enjoying the friction her delicious ass created as she moved against him. His forehead dropped to the back of her shoulder as he continued to tease her sensitive bud. He felt more of her desire surge from her, his fingers following its trail, pressing deeply into her entrance to fill her.

  Cyn gasped his name. Her torso began to tip forward so his other hand left her hip, skating up to cup her left breast, holding her upright while he kneaded the swollen flesh. He felt her body climbing. Her inner muscles began to quiver against his fingers as they pushed in and out of her. Her body arched against him, rubbing against his tortured cock while her breast pushed harder against his hand.

  With a muffled curse, his fingers pulled the edge of her dress down over her erect nipple, grasping the begging peak in his fingers.

  Sloane wanted to taste her so badly; his mouth watered at the thought of the sweetness that coated his fingers slipping onto his tongue. But, not now. He would have to wait for his dessert.

  Her muscles began to tense and Sloane knew she was reaching her peak. His thumb began to flick over her swollen core, while his fingers stayed planted inside of her, feeling her passage tensing around him – imagining what it would feel like around his cock.

  “Cyn.” He groaned her name just before she screamed. Her body coming apart in his hands. He stayed pressed firmly against her, trying to control his raging desire at the feel of her orgasm around the parts of him that he allowed to enjoy her.

  God, to feel that hot, wet fist of her climaxing around his erection… Just thinking about it, Sloane knew he might die from the pleasure.

  It was a sacrifice a certain – throbbing – part of him was willing to make.

  His hand righted her dress as he slowly slipped his fingers out of her, leaving her underwear where it was. He felt her breathing heavily as he leaned over her shoulder to whisper in her ear, “Leave them.”

  He heard her inhale as his hand dropped from underneath her dress, letting it fall back in place. She turned to look at him, her eyes heavy with sated desire.

  “I just wanted a small taste,” he said, licking his fingers, “to hold me over until dessert.” A tight smile spread over his face as he let his hand smack her ass. “How long until dinner?”

  Abruptly turning, he flicked on the faucet and began to wash his hands.

  “Not long.” She cleared her throat. “Although, it would have been done by now if I hadn’t been distracted…”

  “I was just putting out fires,” he teased back. Reaching up to grab some bowls out of the cupboard, he winced as he bumped his straining cock against the edge of the counter, almost dropping the bowls.

  A quick glance over his shoulder told him that Cyn was too focused on the stove to see his moment of crippling pain.

  “Alright, go sit. I just have to make the bowls and I’ll bring them over.”

  Doing as he was told, Sloane took a seat at the kitchen counter, watching her move adeptly around his kitchen, seeming to find things in it that even he didn’t know existed.

  She leaned up to the counter, setting the bowls down in front of him. “Ready.”

  Sloane look a deep breath as she came over to sit next to him, his body twitching as she brushed his leg climbing up onto her chair.

  “It smells delicious,” he said.

  “Wait until you taste it.” Cyn eyed him expectantly, waiting for him to take the first bite.

  He put a forkful of the meat, cream, and pasta mix into his mouth.

  “Wow.” He didn’t even swallow before the word rushed from his mouth. “This is incredible.”

  Cyn smirked. “I told you.” And then she dug into her own bowl.

  The food was delicious and he was ravenous; although, eating was only satisfying one of his starving appetites, the other would have to wait until later, when he was alone and could relive the feel of her body underneath his hands.

  “So, what did you and your mom used to cook together?” Her question cut through the enjoyment that had suffused through him.

  Even though there was the familiar hurt in his chest when he thought about her memory, Sloane strangely felt like he wanted to tell Cyn about her; he wanted to finally share some of her memory with someone.

  “Sloppy Joe.” He laughed. “It was my favorite. We would make other stuff, but that’s what I remember most because I would always ask for it.”

  “Well, who can pass up a great Sloppy Joe?”

  “Exactly. It wasn’t her favorite though. She liked chicken marsala, but I would always whine about the mushrooms – or ‘the fungus’, as I liked to call it – so we rarely ended up making that. Funny to think that now I enjoy them.” He stared into the kitchen and it was like he could see her there in front of him, telling him that they couldn’t have Sloppy Joe again for dinner… because ‘daddy won’t like that.’ He shook his head and sighed. “I was a little shit.”

  “Kids are particular, but it’s great that you would cook with her. I don’t know that I’ve met many guys who would want to do that, especially as a kid.” Cyn took another bite.

  “She struggled with… ahh… depression. But cooking with me always made her smile. And I liked when she smiled.” He shrugged. “But, eventually, even cooking wasn’t enough to make her happy.”

  “I’m sorry, Sloane.” She bit her lip. “I can’t imagine what it was like to see your mom struggle with that. I know how my parents suffered those few months after graduation. I felt like I was living in a world where happiness didn’t exist and no matt
er how hard they tried to reach me, they couldn’t. And I was an adult… I can’t imagine being a child and having to watch that. Did she get help?”

  Sloane picked up the small butterfly sitting on the counter between them. Rubbing his fingers over it before setting it back down.

  “No. There was no helping her; she died. Our house caught fire and she didn’t make it out.” It was more or less the truth. He swallowed thickly feeling like the suffocating, black smoke was still caught in his lungs. Ok, maybe it was slightly less…

  “Oh, my God, Sloane. I’m so sorry.” Her hand immediately intertwined with his and a sense of calm broke over him.

  “It was a long time ago.”

  He watched her pick up the small figurine. “What’s this?”

  “The ugliest butterfly you will ever see.” He laughed harshly. “I made it for her; it’s the only thing I have left from…” He couldn’t finish, hating how the memories from that day were still scarred on him.

  “Were you inside, too?” she asked breathlessly. Her eyes wide with horror that he could have almost died as well.

  He shook his head. “No. No one else was.” He stared blankly at the stove. “I was waiting at my bus stop and I realized that I’d taken this from the house by accident. She always kept it in the kitchen and I would play with it absentmindedly. By the time I got back, the house was in flames.” He cleared his throat, willing himself to stop, but the story kept coming. “I tried to go inside to get to her; I made it as far as the kitchen… before I passed out from the smoke. Our neighbors called nine-one-one and I woke up in an ambulance.”

  Few people knew what had happened to him or his family and until now, no one except the emergency paramedics knew he’d gone back inside. But no one would ever know what he saw just before the smoke overtook him.

  He shut his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers as he tried to forget the image. He opened them to look at Cyn, hoping her face would erase every other thought from his mind. She stared at him with tears in her eyes.

  “What about your father? Where was he?”

  Probably fucking the blonde he’d left with that morning.

  Sloane stood, grabbing their plates and walking to the sink. He needed to distance himself from her and her questions that reignited his painful past.

  “I don’t know,” he responded tightly. The subtle change in her eyes told him she saw that his father was a topic that was off-limits. He nodded to the windows behind her. “There’s your sunset.”

  Sloane watched her turn towards the window, not missing her hand as it came up to wipe the tears from her eyes. He rinsed off the dishes as she stood and walked over to the window, her arms crossing in front of her chest as the red-yellow hues of dusk warmed over the horizon and set her figure aglow.

  Like a moth to her flame, Sloane moved slowly towards her. He cursed the undeniable pull.

  Why did everything with Cyn feel like a dream?

  With her, the side of him that he’d spent over half his life burying came surging alive. She gave that part of him that beat inside of his chest the strength to come out. With her, everything that would have completely petrified him with any other woman almost completely evaporated.

  If it had been any other woman, he would have let her leave with Pierce that night. If it had been any other woman, he wouldn’t have cared so much about her past; he knew this because he’d heard stories from his models before, he empathized politely with them, but never anything more. With Cyn, every fiber within him raged to right the wrongs done to her. If it had been any other woman, he wouldn’t have given a second thought to her nudity as he sculpted her; he knew this, too, because it was what had been occurring for the past almost eight years.

  But Cyn wasn’t any other woman; she was Diana and Venus rolled up into one.

  She turned back towards him and with the sunset behind her, she looked like she’d appeared out of the fire.

  As he got closer, he saw the tears that streaked down her face. His hands came up to her cheeks, his thumb brushing away the tiny drops.

  “What happened, Sloane?” she asked softly, begging him for an answer he couldn’t give her. “What happened to you?”

  He groaned, his forehead dropping to hers. “Don’t, Cyn.” One of his hands trailed down her neck. “You’re standing here in front of me like a goddess on fire – like Venus – calling to me. And I’m drawn to you like Perseus to the sun, flying too close to the fire that will consume me, but it’s the only place that I can hold you tight.” He let out a harsh laugh at his own weakness. “So tonight, Cyn, just let me enjoy the burn.”

  She managed to suck in a breath just before his mouth crashed onto hers. A second later he had her pressed flush up against the window as he devoured her mouth with his tongue, exploring every corner of sweetness that lay hidden.

  The feel of her mouth obliterated every other thought from his mind that didn’t involve her. Naked. Against him.

  Chapter 16

  His hands reached for the hem of her dress, pulling it up and over her head. The momentary separation of their bodies gave her arms the freedom to reach between them and deftly undo the buttons on his shirt, yanking it to the sides as his mouth took hers again. His hips jerked against her as her erect nipples touched the burning skin of his chest.

  He froze at the sensation. He’d never had a naked woman pressed against him before – skin to skin. Feeling her breasts crushed against him… feeling her molded up against him… it was suffocating him with pleasure. It was just another step closer to that sun that was just waiting to engulf him.

  His hands skimmed down over her back, grasping the muscular flesh of her ass and pulling her hard against his arousal for one glorious second. Then, moving his hands to her hips and out of the way, he pressed her up against the cool glass of the window, swallowing her gasp.

  His lips greedily left hers in search of more. Kissing down her neck, his hands slid over the soft plane of her stomach to knead her breasts, pushing them up to wait for his mouth to arrive.

  Cyn’s back arched, her fingers digging into his shoulders as his mouth closed over one aching peak, pulling it hard into his mouth.

  God, he could spend an entire day worshipping her breasts.

  He could spend every day worshipping her.

  He loved how the pale mounds marked easily from his touch – he loved seeing his effect on her. He dreamt about the rose-pink buds and how they felt between his lips. Maybe this was his punishment for denying himself this pleasure for so long. He couldn’t get enough of them. He rolled the softly firm tip around with his tongue, gently biting and then soothing it. His left hand, meanwhile, tended to her other breast, caressing the swollen flesh until she was quivering underneath him, moaning his name, and begging for more.

  He wanted to give her more, but he just couldn’t get enough.

  The subtle lavender sweetness of her skin and the way she tried to push herself further into him.

  Sloane wanted nothing more than to drive himself into her and forget the consequences. If she was any other woman, he might have, but Cyn deserved so much more than what he could give her; she deserved so much better than what he would inevitably do to her. Then again, if she were any other woman, they would have never reached this point.

  With one last deep draw, he pulled his mouth from her enticing flesh. Sloane glanced up over her heaving chest to see her face flushed with pleasure and her cheeks streaked with tears from coming so close to her release. Ever so slowly her gaze dropped to his and as much as he wanted to sample her other breast the way he’d just done, the look in her eyes told him she needed him between her thighs.

  He knelt in front of her, breathing in deeply the intoxicating scent of her arousal. Taking in the sight of her panties still pushed to the side of her core, his hands grabbed the slip of lace fabric and easily slipped them down to the floor.

  “Now,” he rasped, “it’s time for dessert.”

  He traced hi
s finger down her slit, watching her desire drip onto his skin. Her legs dipped as she gasped his name. Her palms flat against the window. Placing his hands between her thighs, he pushed them apart slightly. Then, just like his finger had done, he took his tongue and traced the seam of her fold.

  Her fingers speared through his hair, digging into his scalp. It could have been painful if he wasn’t so fucking aroused.

  With a growl, his mouth closed completely over her. Cyn screamed his name, but it only registered as a dull, distant sound in his head. Every other sense dulled as he tasted her sweetened core.

  His tongue exploring every crevice until it centered over her sensitive bud. Around and around, he massaged it, enjoying the rush of honey that continued to flow into his mouth. He would never tire of this taste – that much he knew for certain. He would never tire of the feel of her hands on his head, pressing him harder against her; he would never tire of her softness captured and captivated by his mouth. More than that, he would never stop craving the feel of her as her body shattered against him, her muscles shuddering underneath his tongue, drowning him in her desire.

  He kept his mouth on her until she sagged against the window. He slowly licked over her one last time before coming to stand, groaning slightly at the movement, first because his knees were sore, but mostly because his erection was throbbing.

  Hell, his whole body was throbbing.

  His vision had trouble focusing, so he backed away from her, trying to suck in air. His head was pounding with need. Grabbing ahold of a chair, he dropped into it. His hazy gaze staring at her, still resting against the window for support as the dying light of the sunset covered her with a dark and warm glow – not unlike the look that came over her face.

  He watched, weakened with need, as she slowly swayed over to him with a look of pure seduction in her eyes. Not the forced kind that he’d seen when they’d met. No, this was pure, unadulterated lust.