Art Lovers Romance Series

by Becca Colton

  Another finger enters my soaking pussy, slowly sliding in and out. I can hear the sound of his fingers sliding through my wetness, and I want to be embarrassed but I’m too turned on to worry about such things.

  “Come for me, Cyn,” Derek growls between my legs. “Let me taste you again.” His tongue moves faster across my clit as his fingers increase their pace.

  My hips begin thrusting against his face, practically on their own, desperate to get closer to his talented tongue and fingers. I slide my hands down and grab two handfuls of his thick long hair, pulling him tight against me. My heart is pounding against my ribs, it’s thumping sounding loud in my ears. I’d swear I can feel my blood rushing through my veins, faster and faster, until my whole body is thrumming like a live wire.

  Derek curls his fingers up, finding that spot — that spot I’ve heard so many guys can’t find — and I come undone, my mind and body exploding with a heat I never imagined. I scream Derek’s name until my throat is raw, my fingers digging into his scalp, and I feel him remove his fingers, sliding his mouth down to capture my essence. A wave of lightheadedness washes over me and the world around me grows dim. For a second, I wonder if I’m dying. I decide death by orgasm is a great way to go.

  Chapter 9

  Derek

  I kiss Cyndie’s thigh as she relaxes, her fingers releasing me from the death grip she had my head in. I stand and look down at her, naked on my bed, her chest heaving, a sheen of sweat coating her skin. Little curly strands of hair are plastered to her forehead, and her cheeks are flushed with pleasure. She looks sexy as fuck and she’s all mine.

  After a few minutes she slowly opens her eyes. She looks at me and groans. “Oh god. You killed me and you’re not even undressed.”

  I tilt my head and look at her questioningly, one eyebrow arched. “Does that mean you want to stop?”

  “Hell no,” she almost shouts.

  I chuckle as I pull my shirt off. Her breathing quickens as I kick off my shoes and unbutton my jeans. She licks her lips as I slide my pants and boxers down, stepping out of them and moving toward her.

  Leaning down, I kiss her hip. Her breath catches as I slowly kiss my way up to her belly button. She squeals as I dip my tongue inside and I can’t help but smile. A low moan escapes her as I cover her beautiful big breasts with soft kisses, then nip at her hard nipples with my teeth. She gasps when she feels my hard cock slide against her wet slit. I grind against her, claiming her mouth with mine. Her hips rock back against me as our tongues dance against each other.

  “Fuck me,” Cyndie whispers, her breath soft and warm against my cheek.

  I raise my hips, enjoying the feel of her slick heat against the head of my cock, and then I slowly press forward. Cyndie sucks in a breath as I slide inside her and a groan escapes me as her velvety tightness wraps around me.

  “God, you’re so fucking tight,” I gasp out, already feeling the urge to fill her with my seed.

  I take her mouth in a passionate kiss, swallowing the delicious sounds she makes as I continue sliding in, stretching her pussy wide. When my balls are resting against her ass, I break the kiss and look into her eyes. “You okay?”

  Her gray eyes are almost black, her pupils blown wide with lust, and her cheeks are flushed. “I’m perfect.” Her sweet voice is a breathy whisper that makes my shaft throb deep inside her.

  Looking into her eyes, I slowly pull back until just the head of my cock is between her pussy lips, and then I slide forward again, picking up the pace with each thrust. Her breathing becomes harsh, ragged, as her head lolls to the side.

  “So good,” she whines. “So fucking big.”

  She grabs my biceps, her nails digging into me, as her hips begin meeting my thrusts with her own. “Derek,” she moans, her inner muscles gripping me even tighter as her pussy grows hot and wet around my thrusting cock.

  “That’s right, baby,” I growl. “Come around my cock.” I slide a hand between us and rub her clit with my thumb. Her moan instantly become a scream and she digs her heels into my ass, pulling me tight against her. I can feel her juices bathing my cock as she comes, pushing me over the edge. I lean down and sink my teeth into her shoulder as I explode, filling her fucked-for-the-first-time pussy with my cum, her inner muscles milking me dry.

  I run my hands through her hair and kiss her softly, and after a few minutes her legs relax, releasing me from her sensual grip. I slowly pull out and lay down beside her, wrapping my arm around her and pulling her close. She runs her fingertips up and down my chest, purring like a kitten.

  “I love you,” she says softly, and then gasps.

  I turn to look at her and see the fear in her eyes. It’s obvious she didn’t mean to speak those words out loud. I smile and press a kiss to her forehead. “I love you, too.”

  Cyndie smiles and relaxes, and then a hungry gleam appears in her eyes. She sits up and slides her hand from my chest down to my cock. “I want to try something,” she says softly, licking her lips. She wraps her fingers around my shaft and starts slowly stroking. “Can you do it again?” she asks. She gets her answer without me saying a word when my cock begins to grow long and thick between her fingers. She moans and leans forward, wrapping her lips around the head. I gasp when I feel her tongue press against my shaft as she takes more into her mouth.

  She can only take a little before she starts choking and quickly changes her technique, kissing and licking the head of my cock while her hand slides and twists up and down my shaft.

  “Fuck,” I groan, already feeling my balls tighten. I reach down and gently pull her away. She groans in frustration, looking up at me. “That feels great, baby, but I need to feel that sweet pussy around my cock again.”

  Her frustrated groan becomes a moan of desire as she slides a leg over me, positioning herself over my cock. I grab her hips and pull her down, our combined juices allowing me to slide all the way in one thrust. She gasps when I’m fully seated in her tight pussy.

  “God, you feel good,” she moans, her hips already grinding against me. I tighten my grip, my fingers pressing into her hips, and start sliding her up and down. Cyndie’s mouth opens in a surprised ‘O,’ her eyes opening wide. “Oh god,” she gasps, her pussy tightening around me. She falls forward, catching herself with her hands on my chest. “Oh god,” she repeats over and over, her hips rising and falling on their own now. I capture one of her hard nipples in my mouth, tweaking the other with my thumb and forefinger as Cyndie begins riding me faster.

  “I’m gonna —” Cyndie starts to say, and then her words are lost as an orgasm washes over her. Feeling her come pushes me over the edge and I slam my hips up into her once, twice, and then I’m filling her again as she grips me tight.

  She leans down and kisses me, our tongues dancing briefly, before she slides free and moves to lay by my side, snuggling tight against me. “I love you,” she says again, but she’s already asleep, exhausted, when I say I love her too.

  Epilogue

  Cyndie

  I feel the warmth of the early morning sun caress my cheek and a slow smile spreads on my face. Who would’ve thought pet-sitting would have such a huge impact on my life? Not me, that’s for sure. When my parents called and asked me to watch their pets, I figured the best I’d get out of the deal was a week with access to their pool. Instead, I got a hot and sexy husband who loves me with all his heart and a baby that would be arriving in about two months.

  I open my eyes and gaze out at the lake in our back yard. Yep. A lake. My parents were surprisingly cool about me dating and then getting engaged to their older neighbor, but it seemed weird to be having lots of wild sex right next door to my parents. Derek was completely understanding and had actually been contemplating a move. He always wanted to live in a cabin in the woods, complete with a lake in the back yard, and I knew I’d be happy anywhere as long as I was with him . . . and I didn’t have to worry about my parents hearing me scream every time I had an orgasm. So here we are.

&n
bsp; A deer at the edge of the tree line catches my eye and I turn my head to get a good look at it.

  “Hey now,” Derek says. “No moving.”

  I blush and turn my head back. “Oops! Sorry.”

  He chuckles. “It’s not really a problem. I’m actually finished.”

  I glance over at him excitedly. “Let me see.”

  He turns the easel around to face me and I can’t help the huge smile on my face. It’s me, sitting here on the patio in my gliding rocker, my right hand resting on my rounded belly. The golden morning light creates a halo effect around me. The best part, though, is in the lower left corner. In big, bold, but still artistic, swooping letters is the title: Baby’s First Picture.

  ◆◆◆

  The Photographer

  My dream of becoming a professional photographer has crashed and burned. Even selling off my photography equipment doesn't net me enough cash to cover the rent, so I decide to do the next best thing . . . or, actually, the absolute worst thing. I blow the cash on one last night out on the town, and go out with a bang -- literally -- in the arms of the hottest man I've ever met.

  The next day, an online ad brings me one last shot to avoid returning to my hometown as a failure. A talented photographer I admire is looking for an assistant. Unfortunately, he turns out to be the bang . . . the man I never intended on seeing again.

  I’m only supposed to be his assistant. It’s strictly professional. Except nobody told my heart that, and I don’t know how long I can resist that devilish smile or the hunger in his eyes.

  Chapter 1

  Harper

  “I’ll give you five hundred for all of it.”

  I stare at the man like he’s lost his mind. I gesture at all the photography equipment strewn across the counter in front of him. “There’s over three thousand dollars’ worth of equipment here.”

  The man shrugs. “It’s used equipment. Used equipment that will take up counter space that might not sell.”

  I glare at the man but bite my tongue. I know he’ll probably sell all this stuff in less than a month, but I need the money. I force a fake smile onto my face. “Five hundred is fine. Thank you.”

  He flashes me an oily knowing grin. The bastard. The rent on my little dinky apartment is due in a week. All fifteen hundred dollars of it. And the landlord isn’t exactly known for his generosity, although he did offer a discount in exchange for a monthly blowjob. Ugh! No thanks. I’d rather sleep in my car.

  And speaking of sleeping in my car, since five hundred dollars isn’t really going to help keep a roof over my head, I figure I’ll set aside some for a week’s worth of groceries, a tank or two of gas, and then blow the rest on getting shit-faced drunk. After all, pretty soon I won’t even be able to afford to do that.

  I bite back the tears as I climb into my seven-year-old Toyota. I’ve already packed everything and stuffed it in the back, just in case the landlord decides to slap a lock on the apartment door a few days early. I’ve heard from others that he has a tendency to do that since he then turns around and sells everything in the apartment.

  “Damn it!” I slap the steering wheel, my frustration boiling over. I moved to the city a year ago, ready to set the world on fire with my photography. I’m good, and that’s not just my ego talking. I’ve had brides-to-be ohh and ahh over my images, and then they take their business — and their money — somewhere else. I don’t know what I’m doing wrong, but it’s time to admit defeat. I’ll get smashed tonight and then call Mom and Dad tomorrow to tell them I’m coming home. I’ll move back home, move back in with my parents, and work at the local gas station or feed store while taking pictures on the side. At least I’ll take pictures on the side when I’m able to buy another camera.

  I shake the depressing thoughts out of my head. There’ll be time for depressing thoughts tomorrow, when I’m hung over and griping at myself for blowing money I could’ve saved. Tonight is all about getting wasted and feeling good. Hell, I might even have a one-night stand since I’ll be leaving this place soon. I laugh to myself. Yeah, right. I’ve never done that and I don’t see myself starting tonight. It’s a nice thought, though.

  I look in the rearview mirror at the dresses hanging up in the back seat. All three of them. I’m short and curvy, with more than my fair share of hips and boobage. Dresses aren’t really my thing. But I have a sexy little black one that everyone says makes my light brown hair and blue eyes really stand out. I’ll head back to the apartment that’s mine for at least a little longer, put on a little makeup, slide into that dress, and tell this town to kiss my ass with a little bit of style.

  Chapter 2

  Harper

  Two drinks and three guys trying to get between my legs with lame pickup lines later and I start rethinking this whole thing. I don’t know exactly what I was looking for tonight but being told “a little extra cushin’ for the pushin’ is A-OK with me” was definitely not on the list.

  I glance in the general direction of the door. I can’t actually see it because of the sea of people on the dance floor but I know it’s there. And beyond it? Plan B — Netflix and chill . . . and by ‘chill’ I mean ice cream.

  Screw that. I came to get shit-faced and I’m not even halfway there. Netflix and ice cream can wait. I get the bartender’s attention — a definite advantage of big boobs. Just lean over a bit, show some cleavage, and Boom! Instant attention. When he finally manages to raise his head from the girls and make eye contact, I order two tequila shots, and then slam them down one after the other as soon as he sets them in front of me. I didn’t have dinner and they hit me like a freight train.

  I look back out at the sea of bodies, moving to the beat of the music pumping through the air like a living thing. And then I get an idea. An idea that makes the teensy sober part of my brain quake in fear. I think I can dance. I can’t. The teensy sober part of me knows this. The drunk part of me that’s running the show sweeps that tiny sober part under a rug somewhere and I head to the dance floor. I close my eyes, forget about everyone around me, and let my body move with the music. The tiny sober part of me tries one last time to get drunk me’s attention and point out that I really can’t dance, but I’m not listening. The ability to dance isn’t required tonight. There are so many bodies out here I might as well be invisible.

  At least that’s what I think until a pair of hands grab my hips and pull me against a body behind me. My eyes fly open and I squirm enough to loosen the grip and turn around, ready to give the person intruding on my good time a piece of my mind.

  Except when I turn around, I’m staring at a light blue button-up shirt that’s not too tight but just tight enough to show the impressive pecs beneath it. I look up, and then find I need to keep looking up even more. At 5’ 5” I’m not exactly tall but this man — who still has his hands on my hips — has to be at least a foot taller than me. And holy hell! I take in as much of him as I can, scared he might disappear like an alcohol-fueled hallucination if I so much as blink. Intense hazel eyes gaze down at me, jet-black hair frames the face of a god, and the short beard that covers his chin and cheeks is practically begging me to run my fingers through it. He smiles at me and I can almost feel my panties melt. I try to remember what I was going to say when I turned around, but my brain is blank so I go with the first thing that pops into my head.

  “You have big hands,” I say, leaning toward his chest, like I’m sharing a secret.

  Those hands tighten their grip on my hips and tug me closer to him. I gasp as I feel something long and thick straining against his pants, pressing against me. He flashes me a smile that launches a thousand butterflies in my tummy and I squeeze my thighs together against the sudden ache I feel there.

  “If you think my hands are impressive, you should see the rest of me.”

  Almost against my will, my eyes drop down below his waist. The club is dark, he’s wearing black slacks, and he has me pulled tight against him. I can’t see it but I know his hands aren’t the only th
ing big about him. I lick my lips as I force my eyes back to his face, and notice him dropping his eyes to my mouth, following the movement of my tongue. If the hard cock pressing against me wasn’t a clue, the heat in his gaze lets me know what he wants to do.

  He slides one around my waist as he turns slightly, pulling me tight against him as he leads me off the dance floor. I have no idea where he’s taking me, and I don’t care. This guy has “night I’ll never forget” written all over him, and that sounds like the perfect way to spend one of my last nights in this city before I have to go back to the small town I came from.

  Instead of leading me to the front door, or the bathroom, Mr. Tall, Dark, and Please-Fuck-Me escorts me past the bar and up a small set of steps. He nods at the man standing next to a door at the top of the steps. The man steps to the side, opening the door. Of course. The VIP area. Why am I even surprised? This guy has VIP written all over him. I look around as the door closes behind us. There are three booths with wraparound seating. All of them are empty, but one of them has a glass filled with a dark liquid sitting on a napkin. He slides into the booth, pulling me with him, and then he turns those hazel eyes back to me.

  “What would you like to drink?” he asks.

  All I can do is stare. His eyes are burning into my soul, and his leg pressing against mine has another type of fire building between my legs. His arm is still around my waist, his fingers gripping me tightly, possessively. I lick my lips again, trying to force my brain to focus on the question, and then he’s leaning forward, his mouth claiming mine like a conquering army. I lean into him, moaning into his mouth as his other hand lands on my bare leg, almost instantly sliding up under my short dress.