Tempt Me
Page 29
“Too bad, I’m telling you anyway.” He rubbed a hand over her upper arm. Her smooth, damp skin was chilly to the touch. Perhaps he should concentrate on keeping her warm instead of troubling her with his problems. “I lied about the reason I don’t want you to visit me in Austin.”
“The p**n on the walls?”
“Madison, it’s not p**n . It’s my artwork. Mine,” he clarified. “I didn’t buy it; I created it.”
“You’re an artist?” She shifted away from his chest so she could look at him. “Why didn’t you ever tell me that?”
“Hey, baby,” he said in a creepy stalker voice, “I draw and paint portraits of nude women from memory. Wanna come view my collection?”
“Yeah, actually, I do want to see your work, naked chicks or not.” Her eyes lit up. “Have you ever painted me?”
The heat of embarrassment rose up his neck and face. Was he seriously blushing? “Yeah, far more than I should. I have at least five paintings of your left breast alone.”
“But not the right?” She looked down at her perfect br**sts. “Is the left one better or something?”
“Nope, it’s just usually in my dominant hand.”
She laughed. “Well, now that I know your secret, I can visit, right?”
“Someday.” He had started this thread of conversation to tell her that his father had moved back in, but that feeling of not wanting to disappoint her made him hesitate. He decided it would be easier to get rid of the old man than to remind Madison that he wasn’t as strong as she seemed to think he was. “But not next week. Next week it’s you and me in New Orleans. Did you forget?”
“How could I forget? I wonder . . . While you eat me out at the club, should I do this?” Leaning her back against his chest, she cupped her br**sts and tugged at her ni**les, making them hard and rosy pink. “If I play with my boobs, will our audience think it’s sexy?”
She was totally getting into it. He couldn’t imagine anyone not thinking his Madison was the sexiest woman alive. And she was his. How did he get so lucky? She lifted her br**sts in both hands, pressing them together into tit-fucking cle**age. “Or is it sexier to hold them together like this? Adam, tell me what looks hotter.”
Jesus. His c**k pulsed, protesting its mistreatment. He covered her br**sts and massaged them roughly. “Fuck, woman, why do you tempt me? Now I want to come all over your tits.”
She treated him to a deep, throaty laugh. “Well, what’s stopping you?”
Chapter Twelve
Madison wore a T-shirt she’d borrowed from Adam—one day she’d learn to bring an overnight bag when she had a date with him—and was resting on her stomach on the bed next to him. He was gloriously naked, which tended to make her hands wander. She’d yet to tempt him into tossing her on her back and possessing her body as he consistently possessed her soul, but she was working on it.
He’d made her all hot and bothered in the tub, stroking his c**k within the pulsing jets of the Jacuzzi until he’d erupted all over her chest. Then he’d insisted on washing every inch of her body and encouraging her to return the favor. After getting her worked up again, he hadn’t offered her release. Instead, he’d decided it was time to munch on snacks and watch TV.
They sampled from the banquet laid out before them on the end of the bed—an assortment of junk food Adam had purchased out of a vending machine while she’d dried her hair. Some show about a tattoo artist was on the flat-screen, but Madison couldn’t concentrate on television with Adam’s toe rubbing the instep of her foot and his arm resting against hers. All she could think about—all she ever seemed able to think about—was him. She pressed her head against his shoulder and closed her eyes. All the anxiety, the loneliness, the jealousy and the uncertainty had been worth it just to experience this perfect moment. And she had so many more perfect moments to look forward to.
“I think you need a tattoo, Madi,” Adam said. Unlike her, he was very into the program. He munched another nacho-flavored tortilla chip and licked the psychedelic orange cheese from his fingertips.
“I’m too squeamish to get a tattoo.”
He chuckled. “As much as you like being spanked? You’d love it. You’d get so hot and bothered, you’d probably jump me in the tattoo parlor.”
“I’d probably jump you in the tattoo parlor without any provocation.”
He kissed her with salty lips. “How about a practice run?” He leaned across the bed and snatched a ballpoint pen off the side table. Holding it in his teeth, he flipped her onto her back and ran his hands lightly over her skin as he lifted his T-shirt to reveal her bare belly. “Such beautiful canvas,” he said. He placed a kiss just beneath her belly button. “I think right here. What do you want as your design, Miss Fairbanks?”
“You do tattoos?”
He shook his head. “Nope. I just like to draw. How about a little pu**y just above your pretty pu**y?” His tongue flicked over the cleft at the apex of her thighs, and her body jerked. She hadn’t been able to locate her panties and was pretty sure that Adam had hidden them from her when she’d insisted on wearing one of his clean T-shirts after their bath.
“Adam,” she admonished. “Don’t you think that’s a little crude?”
He chuckled. “Absolutely.” He uncapped the pen and drew a curved line from her belly button to her mound.
She giggled and squirmed. “That tickles.”
“Hold still,” he said.
She tried, but his hand stretching the skin of her belly taut and the tip of the pen rubbing against her sensitive flesh had goose bumps rising, her ni**les hard and her pretty pu**y drenched. The intensity of his expression as he worked, with his tongue pressed against his upper lip, excited her further. He wore the same air of concentration when he played a guitar solo.
“Hot and bothered yet?” he asked, flicking his gorgeous gray eyes upward for a brief instant.
She moaned in the affirmative.
“I can smell your excitement. It’s making it hard to concentrate.”
She eased her legs open and was rewarded with a groan of approval and a tongue flicked over her swollen clit.
“That isn’t fair,” he said. “You know what your scent does to me.”
She grinned and spread her legs wider. She lifted her head and caught sight of his half-finished drawing. She’d expected perhaps a stick-figure cat, but the image was amazingly detailed, three-dimensional and realistic.
“The p**n on the walls?”
“Madison, it’s not p**n . It’s my artwork. Mine,” he clarified. “I didn’t buy it; I created it.”
“You’re an artist?” She shifted away from his chest so she could look at him. “Why didn’t you ever tell me that?”
“Hey, baby,” he said in a creepy stalker voice, “I draw and paint portraits of nude women from memory. Wanna come view my collection?”
“Yeah, actually, I do want to see your work, naked chicks or not.” Her eyes lit up. “Have you ever painted me?”
The heat of embarrassment rose up his neck and face. Was he seriously blushing? “Yeah, far more than I should. I have at least five paintings of your left breast alone.”
“But not the right?” She looked down at her perfect br**sts. “Is the left one better or something?”
“Nope, it’s just usually in my dominant hand.”
She laughed. “Well, now that I know your secret, I can visit, right?”
“Someday.” He had started this thread of conversation to tell her that his father had moved back in, but that feeling of not wanting to disappoint her made him hesitate. He decided it would be easier to get rid of the old man than to remind Madison that he wasn’t as strong as she seemed to think he was. “But not next week. Next week it’s you and me in New Orleans. Did you forget?”
“How could I forget? I wonder . . . While you eat me out at the club, should I do this?” Leaning her back against his chest, she cupped her br**sts and tugged at her ni**les, making them hard and rosy pink. “If I play with my boobs, will our audience think it’s sexy?”
She was totally getting into it. He couldn’t imagine anyone not thinking his Madison was the sexiest woman alive. And she was his. How did he get so lucky? She lifted her br**sts in both hands, pressing them together into tit-fucking cle**age. “Or is it sexier to hold them together like this? Adam, tell me what looks hotter.”
Jesus. His c**k pulsed, protesting its mistreatment. He covered her br**sts and massaged them roughly. “Fuck, woman, why do you tempt me? Now I want to come all over your tits.”
She treated him to a deep, throaty laugh. “Well, what’s stopping you?”
Chapter Twelve
Madison wore a T-shirt she’d borrowed from Adam—one day she’d learn to bring an overnight bag when she had a date with him—and was resting on her stomach on the bed next to him. He was gloriously naked, which tended to make her hands wander. She’d yet to tempt him into tossing her on her back and possessing her body as he consistently possessed her soul, but she was working on it.
He’d made her all hot and bothered in the tub, stroking his c**k within the pulsing jets of the Jacuzzi until he’d erupted all over her chest. Then he’d insisted on washing every inch of her body and encouraging her to return the favor. After getting her worked up again, he hadn’t offered her release. Instead, he’d decided it was time to munch on snacks and watch TV.
They sampled from the banquet laid out before them on the end of the bed—an assortment of junk food Adam had purchased out of a vending machine while she’d dried her hair. Some show about a tattoo artist was on the flat-screen, but Madison couldn’t concentrate on television with Adam’s toe rubbing the instep of her foot and his arm resting against hers. All she could think about—all she ever seemed able to think about—was him. She pressed her head against his shoulder and closed her eyes. All the anxiety, the loneliness, the jealousy and the uncertainty had been worth it just to experience this perfect moment. And she had so many more perfect moments to look forward to.
“I think you need a tattoo, Madi,” Adam said. Unlike her, he was very into the program. He munched another nacho-flavored tortilla chip and licked the psychedelic orange cheese from his fingertips.
“I’m too squeamish to get a tattoo.”
He chuckled. “As much as you like being spanked? You’d love it. You’d get so hot and bothered, you’d probably jump me in the tattoo parlor.”
“I’d probably jump you in the tattoo parlor without any provocation.”
He kissed her with salty lips. “How about a practice run?” He leaned across the bed and snatched a ballpoint pen off the side table. Holding it in his teeth, he flipped her onto her back and ran his hands lightly over her skin as he lifted his T-shirt to reveal her bare belly. “Such beautiful canvas,” he said. He placed a kiss just beneath her belly button. “I think right here. What do you want as your design, Miss Fairbanks?”
“You do tattoos?”
He shook his head. “Nope. I just like to draw. How about a little pu**y just above your pretty pu**y?” His tongue flicked over the cleft at the apex of her thighs, and her body jerked. She hadn’t been able to locate her panties and was pretty sure that Adam had hidden them from her when she’d insisted on wearing one of his clean T-shirts after their bath.
“Adam,” she admonished. “Don’t you think that’s a little crude?”
He chuckled. “Absolutely.” He uncapped the pen and drew a curved line from her belly button to her mound.
She giggled and squirmed. “That tickles.”
“Hold still,” he said.
She tried, but his hand stretching the skin of her belly taut and the tip of the pen rubbing against her sensitive flesh had goose bumps rising, her ni**les hard and her pretty pu**y drenched. The intensity of his expression as he worked, with his tongue pressed against his upper lip, excited her further. He wore the same air of concentration when he played a guitar solo.
“Hot and bothered yet?” he asked, flicking his gorgeous gray eyes upward for a brief instant.
She moaned in the affirmative.
“I can smell your excitement. It’s making it hard to concentrate.”
She eased her legs open and was rewarded with a groan of approval and a tongue flicked over her swollen clit.
“That isn’t fair,” he said. “You know what your scent does to me.”
She grinned and spread her legs wider. She lifted her head and caught sight of his half-finished drawing. She’d expected perhaps a stick-figure cat, but the image was amazingly detailed, three-dimensional and realistic.
