He pushes upright again and yanks my hands between us, and my fingers wrap around hard, smooth flesh. Our gazes lock as his hands guide mine on his shaft, up and down in tight, long strokes.

“Fuck, that feels good.”

He’s huge, spanning the stack of my fists and then some, and I’m glued to the sight of his tip popping through the top of our joined hands. A drop of moisture leaks from the crown. He increases the tempo, pumping in quick, jerky motions, then frantically shoves my hair out of the way, ordering me to keep up the pace.

“I’m gonna come so fucking hard all over those tits.”

My body responds to the gravelly sound of his voice, the rapid soughing of his breaths, and I feel my nipples tighten, begging for him to follow through on his promise. He throws his head back with a groan, and seconds later, his warm, thick release spurts onto my chest.

Silence descends in the moments that follow. Sebastian grips the back of the lounge, eyes shuttered as he catches his breath.

He’s beautiful in the aftermath.

As if he heard the unspoken thought, he lifts his lids, and our gazes collide. I’ve never wanted him as much as I do now, trapped beneath his body, and drenched between the thighs as his cum bathes my chest.

Almost reverently, he kneads my breasts, smearing his release all over the jewel nestled between them. “We tainted his precious diamond.” He gives my nipples a hard pinch. “My cum is all over his property.”

The double meaning isn’t lost on me.

Because that’s all I am to someone like Heath Bordeaux. A possession, a thing to stow away with the rest of his treasures.

And to Sebastian, I’m just a plaything, easily taunted by his cruelty.

Masking the hurt rising inside me, I push against his chest. “You got your payment. Now I want to see my painting.”

He stands, zips up his pants, then helps me to my feet. “Turned out uncannily accurate, if you ask me.”

I’m not sure what he means until I’m standing in front of his masterpiece, blinking in astonishment at the familiar face staring back.

Her skin flushed and lips dewy.

Textured shadows obscuring her more intimate areas, offering a sense of modest seduction.

But those expressive brown eyes impart every thought and emotion she doesn’t want the world to see.

That’s me on that canvas…and I can’t believe it.

“She’s beautiful,” I whisper, awestruck at how he captured me. At how he sees me.

He lingers behind me, heat penetrating my backside, and curls his fingers around my shoulders. “Because you are, Novalee.”

The girl in the painting is tastefully positioned, sexily aroused, and she gazes at her audience with aching want in her bedroom eyes.

It’s a picture that spells desire.

Testifies to her desperation.