Page 17 of The Rake and the Muse
“Will you let me draw you from behind? Bent over and so wet?” he asked, then resumed swirling his tongue in that most forbidden place, pushing it inside of her to stretch it just slightly.
“Yes,” she moaned before taking him all the way to the back of her throat again.
He thrust into her mouth and shifted his tongue to lick and flick her nub, slipping two fingers inside of her. She moved her hips, rocking against his movements. He pressed his thumb to the hole of her arse, massaging it while he continued working his fingers and tongue. Unable to hold back any longer, she rocked on his face and moaned around his cock when she came. She sucked hard after she rode the intensity of her orgasm.
“Jules, I’m going to…” He tried to encourage her to stop, but she sucked him harder. He groaned and her mouth filled with the warmth of his seed, and she swallowed it down, unrelenting so that she pulled every bit of his climax from him. It was salty on her tongue, and she relished the feeling that she had been the one to elicit the response from him.
He licked her one more time and then she moved herself from atop him and shifted to lie beside him on the bed, their heads on adjacent pillows. Theo turned his head to look at her and she met his gaze, both of them smiling at each other. She felt no awkwardness or embarrassment, only satisfaction and contentment with the man beside her.
“Are you certain you haven’t done that before?” he asked, his tone half jest and half serious.
“Never,” she replied. “I have touched myself while imagining what it would be like, though. The reality is far better.”
He reached for the blankets and pulled them over them, turning on his side to face her. She did the same, leaving only a few inches between them.
“Do I get to visit you tomorrow night to sketch you again?” he asked.
“I’d be disappointed if you didn’t.” That was the truth. She’d be disappointed if he didn’t do other things as well.
He laughed. “Does that mean you enjoy being my muse?”
“Well, it comes with perks,” she said.
The candles had tapered out and the fire was reduced to embers, so the room became dark, only the light of the moon shining across one side of the bed.
“Tell me about when you first started painting,” he said. His voice was tender and genuine, and she was tempted to pluck her heart from her chest and hand it to him.
“My mother loved to paint, and I used to watch her. She would allow me to use some of her paints and brushes to try them out for myself. After she passed, I began painting to feel closer to her, and then I found it to be something I couldn’t live without.”
“That is much like me and drawing. I would draw with chalk instead of working on my letters.”
“What made you start drawing naked women?” She didn’t do so to judge him in the slightest, just wished to understand him better.
She could see the wide grin on his face in the moonlight.
“There is nothing more beautiful than the female form. I felt like if I could capture the essence of the female form, then I would be a skilled sketch artist.”
“And have you done so?”
He reached out and brushed her hair away from her face. “Not until tonight.”
Her breath caught, and she swallowed hard, attempting to stop herself from reading too much into his words. He was speaking of art, not feelings. Their arrangement was one of mutual intrigue, and she would do well to remember that.
She was at a loss for words and just watched him. They lay quietly together in the dark. His eyes drifted closed, and even though she knew she should wake him so he could return to his chamber, she threw caution to the wind and allowedhers to do the same.
The next morning, Juliet blinked her eyes open. The scent of sandalwood infiltrated her senses and the weight of something across her midsection pulled her focus. Theo lay beside her, sleeping peacefully, and his arm had made its way around her in the night. There was something more intimate about that moment than anything they had experienced together thus far.
The room was bright from the daylight breaking the horizon. It was only a matter of time before Bess would knock on her door to help her ready herself for the day.
Brushing the hair off his forehead, she took in all of his masculine features. The chiseled lines of his face relaxed from sleep. She thought he was even more handsome seeing him that way, and she had already acknowledged he was the most handsome man she had ever seen.
She drew a deep breath and reminded herself not to lose her heart to him. He would never marry her, nor did she have the desire to marry. At least she didn’t believe she did, and not without love. She could only take what was offered during the house party and likely never see him again, unless he attended society entertainments. The notion of parting from him caused her throat to grow tight.
“Something the matter, Jules?” he asked, his voice gravelly. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”
“Not at all,” she lied. “But you will have to depart soon if we are to avoid being caught.”
He leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss on her lips, then shifted her beneath him so he hovered over her. “Not until I’ve broken my fast.”
