Page 80 of The Sculptor

“That’s right,” he confirms with a kiss to my nipple. “No one else gets to see these but me, Ray.”

It’s not like I went around showing the neighbors, but I agree anyway.

Because hello, he was in the middle of something.

“No one but you, Dr. Potter.”

He hums in pleasure, then lowers, taking my nipple into his mouth.

“Mm-hmm…” My knees nearly buckle, but he holds me up until he has me thoroughly worked up and panting when he suddenly stops and steps back, smacking my butt like some football player. “Got it. You’re good now.”

He waves his hand as if telling me to proceed with decorating.

“Seriously?” I narrow my eyes. “That’s all?”

His mouth falls open in feigned shock. “I thought you wanted to decorate cookies?”

“I do,” I snap, backing him up against the small island, “but then you had to go and get me worked up. I don’t think that’s very fair. Do you?” I mean, seriously, how would he feel if I revved his engine and then walked away? “I think you’re being a cock tease this morning.”

His back hits the counter, and he chuckles. “I must say, that’s the first time I’ve ever been called such a thing.”

“And it will be the last, Dr. Potter. I have zero patience for teasing.”

The pupils in his eyes widen. “Now, that’s not true.” He twirls the strand of my hair. “I clearly remember you enjoying my teasing.”

Okay, he’s right there, but I’ll never admit it.

“But if I’ve upset you, I’m ready to make things right.” He seems so freaking cocky—so confident in his ability to melt me into a puddle of mush.

“Okay,” I tell him. “You can make it up to me.” A sneaky grin curls onto my lips as his cock jumps between us.

“Tell me what you need, Mrs. Potter.”

And this is where he goes down. “I need you to put your hands on the counter, Dr. Potter, and don’t move them until I tell you that you can.”

He smirks, but it falters. He didn’t expect to be the one on the receiving end of this game, even if his words say otherwise. “I think I like this bossiness, Ray. It’s turning me on.”

As it should. One of my favorite things is to play with Duke Potter when he allows it.

He drags his palms against my chest before extending his arms out wide and placing them on the counter.

“You might want to hang on,” I warn.

“Oh, yeah?” He sounds excited.

Stepping closer, I press against him and kiss the scruff on his jaw. “Yeah, things might get a little rough.”

It’s been a very long time since I’ve taken Duke in my mouth. I hope it’s like riding a bike because this girl is as experienced as a virgin.

But if there was anyone who would be a patient participant, it would be Duke, who rolls his fingers around the edge of the granite, bracing himself. “Do your worst, Ray.”

I chuckle. My worst he might actually get.

Holding his gaze, I watch as it turns from amused to heated as I lower to my knees, my fingers delicately pulling the strings of his sweats.

“Oh, fuck.” He throws his head back like standing still is painful. “I can already see this ending with your ass up over a bar stool.”

Meaning, he’s indulging me for as long as he can stand it, which, by the twitch in his forearms, isn’t long.

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