The tip of his tongue circles my opening before gliding to my clit, where he turns me into a trembling mass of bones driven by need. Fisting my skirt, I let my head lull against the wall, lids fluttering closed, and lose myself to the sensory overload of Sebastian’s mouth between my legs.

The press of his thumbs dig into my inner thighs, spreading me wide open, and the strength in his upper body is the only reason I’m still on my feet. I’m moaning, my head spinning as perspiration drips between my breasts.

“I…I…need—” The plea fractures with a guttural cry.

“I know what you need,” he breathes against my wet slit. “No one will make you come as hard as I will.”

The steady licks of his tongue send me reeling. I hold his head between my thighs, my skirt forgotten as it falls where it may, and expel a choppy sonata of breathless cries as I grind on his face in wanton climax.

After the last wave recedes, he veers upright and crushes his mouth on mine. I’m so stunned by the bold move that I gasp and allow his tongue entrance.

It’s our first real kiss.

And it’s laced with the exquisite taste of me on his lips, accompanied by an aching groan in the back of his throat, infused with a desperate merge neither of us can deny.

He jerks my fingers to the hard ridge behind his fly. “See what you do to me?” His hand covers mine, urging a fast and firm rhythm against his jeans.

“I want to taste you.” My demand heats his lips, and they curve into a smile.

“Patience, princess. You’ll return the favor.” That smile widens with his usual cockiness. “The next time we see each other, you’re going to drop to your knees for me. No protests. No hesitation. No excuses. I expect you to suck the hell out of me.” Mischief illuminates his eyes as he thumbs my kiss-dampened lips. “And I don’t care who’s around to witness the massive load you’re going to swallow.”

Speechless.

Unhinged.

Shaking in the aftermath.

That’s how he leaves me after giving me the most powerful orgasm of my life.

But on the downward plummet to the cold, harsh ground, a sense of dread takes root because I know he’ll make good on his promise.

And he’ll do it at the most inopportune time.

8

Sebastian’s demand of reciprocity hangs over my head, which makes entering and leaving my studio an anxiety-inducing challenge. A few doors down from where he paints for the public, I scurry in and out of my own space, my breath catching in my lungs every time until I make it behind closed doors.