Page 19 of Big Forbidden Blacksmith

“Oh, baby,” I whisper, brushing a stray tear from her cheek. “We can absolutely do that. I’ve got savings we can dip into if we want to get a place here at some point. And who knows? You’re young. Your art career is just getting started. I’m sure there’ll be a lot of travelling for us to do to.”

Her pretty face splits into a bright smile, before it falls into a cute look of consternation as she looks at the half-finished work on her easel. “Darn it, I need to finish this painting,” she says. When I try to turn her attention to me by dropping a hand to knead at her ass, she bats it away. “Knox, stop it. At this rate, I won’t complete any of the paintings of you I start.”

“I just wanted to help you relax,” I drawl, leaning down and brushing my lips softly against hers.

“I’m not sure if relaxing is the right word—”

She breaks off into a moan when I palm at her breast over my shirt. The way she feels under my fingers is unreal. Soon enough, I have her well and truly relaxed as she comes on my tongue, her cries reverberating prettily off the walls.

“I love you,” I whisper as her body trembles against me. “I always will.”

Epilogue

Five Years Later …

Lara

Some people paint the sky, others paint the sea. Me? I paint the things that inspire me to open my eyes every day.

The way my husband’s eyes light up with need when he sees me. The sound of his laughter, the warmth of his embrace. These are the things that bring color to my world and make me feel alive. During the five years we’ve been married, I’ve worked hard to immortalize these things in pictures.

Knox is my muse, my inspiration, and my soulmate. He is the reason I create as well as the reason I live. There’s no telling what would have happened that evening years ago if I hadn’t taken the wrong turn and run into him. Thank god I did, or I might not be here right now.

“I’m so proud of you,” a warm voice says as big, strong arms wrap around me.

“Be good,” I scold him. “We’re in public.”

I can feel him smiling without even needing to look. He knows more than anyone how much work I put into this art show. I wouldn’t have gotten to this point if he hadn’t pushed me to.

The showroom is packed with people, most of whom I don’t know. Somehow, they found their way here. When the gallery owner told me that we’d sold out the opening night and needed to start considering a second open house for people to meet me, I was floored. After the opening night, I’d planned on taking a break to focus on my family, but Knox had none of it. He thought this was important for me to do, as did Ashley, who offered to babysit our daughter out at the ranch while my husband and I were in the city.

His reassurance has made this whole night that much better.

That doesn’t mean he’s not also making it a little difficult in the most irresistible way, though.

We should be focusing on mingling with the people who’ve turned out for this meet and greet, but I can’t focus after I feel his hard cock press against my ass. It’s only been a few hours since we fucked in our hotel room, but it feels like it’s been ages. And now he’s teasing me.

And the bastard knows it’s working.

“Do you think they’ll notice if we leave?” I whisper, rocking back gently into his crotch.

“You’re the artist being featured. Of course they’ll notice,” he murmurs back after kissing the shell of my ear. “Not that I care. Aren’t artists known for being eccentric? Disappearing for a moment is nothing. They can wait to talk until after I’m done with you.”

I nod frantically and start to pull him to the gallery’s entrance when someone steps in our way. The need to fuck my husband in some dark, secluded is so strong that I almost shove them out of the way, but instead I plaster on a smile. But then I see who it is, and the smile drops.

“Pierre?” I say, dumbfounded. “What are you doing here?”

“Lora!” he cries out, a sickeningly fake smile plastered to his face. He takes my arm and pulls me toward a cocktail table, as if I have nothing better to do. I feel the warmth of Knox’s body press into mine, supporting me.

“It’s Lara. Or Larissa, if you’re feeling formal,” I correct him through gritted teeth.

“Of course, Lana.” He waves his hand like it’s nothing. “I heard there was a gallery show happening, someone new and exciting, and I was curious. I never would have expected to run into you here, and after all these years …”

“Well, the pieces being shown are mostly mine—”

“You see, Lila, this is the kind of artistic greatness I hoped to find in you. I’d heard the artist sold out in record time for this gallery. How impressive is that? Of course, I shouldn’t ask you that when you know so little about art.”

I open my mouth to attempt tell my former mentor that the art is actually mine. Instead of words, a gasp comes out as I feel a hand start to trail up under my dress and up my thigh. “Oh—”

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