Heartbreak Hotel (Dark Friends-to-Lovers) by Kenya Wright

Author:Kenya Wright [Wright, Kenya]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: ZachEvans Publishing
Published: 2017-12-02T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 10

Hawk

As soon as Yaz left the studio, I freed my cock. She must’ve thought I was a degenerate. I surely did after these actions.

And then I groaned loud and moaned, “Fuck, Yaz. What are you doing to me?”

What the fuck was I thinking? Had she heard me? I’m not thinking. I just need to get this out.

I’d wanted her all during lunch, fascinated by her prickly vulnerability, the way her smiles never quite reached her eyes. I wanted to take Yaz to bed and keep her there until she was soft and satiated in my arms.

I might’ve been okay, if I’d been able to paint her. My cock might’ve gone down as soon as the paint and brushes came out. But I didn’t get the time and she was so innocent and sexy. Plump melons poked her shirt with her nipples, her eyes open like windows.

I had to have her. Innocence and pain swam in her gaze, but oh God that body was ripe to be touched and she looked like she hadn’t been fucked good ever.

The way she stared at me in the doorway made me crazy. It was bad enough she’d caught me with my hand in my pants. And what could I do? She’d caught me. There was no use of taking my hand out and mumbling a sorry. I was unraveled. She deserved better. Not some horny man rubbing his dick to the sight of her walking away.

But she caught me, and didn’t run off. Instead, she stared as if daring me to stroke it in front of her. Or maybe that was just what I wanted to believe.

Those few seconds were agony as she gazed at me. I wanted to see Yaz naked—her clothes off and legs spread open in front of me. But there would be problems with that.

So then why did I take her upstairs? Why put her in my studio?

In one hand, I stroked my cock. In the other, I grabbed a paint brush and walked over to the canvas. The fact that I did this made me deal with the reality of the situation.

Yes. I have to paint her.

The very thought threw my body into a lust-filled rage. My skin prickled with desire. My cock had never been this solid in its life. Yet, my hands charged with this drug-induced yearning to create.

There was nothing I could do. I had to satisfy both urges at the same time. And so, in my studio, I stroked my dick with one hand and painted her with the other.

It didn’t matter anymore as I spit on my cock like a vile man and began to rock into my closed fists. The tool swelled more. Like a weapon, it charged, ready to explode, and I wished Yaz’s face lay before it. I imagined her on her knees, big breasts soft and perky. I bet it would take two hands to hold one and lots of determination not to suck on those nipples until milk came.

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