Riding Wood by Abigail Graham & Vanessa Waltz

Author:Abigail Graham & Vanessa Waltz [Graham, Abigail]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2017-01-17T05:00:00+00:00

Sitting here is an exercise in patience. Flames lick up my back as I sit on the stool, surrounded by the warmth of a crackling fire. My clothes lie in a pile on the floor. This time his greedy eyes didn’t look away when my panties hit the ground.

This time I’ll have him.

The tight four walls of Lucas’ cabin close in on us, so small that there’s no escaping this heat. He rolls his sleeves to his elbows as though I’m the fire, and being close to me is too much.

I thought being a figure model would be a nerve-wracking experience, but it’s not with Lucas. Being sketched by an artist like him, the only man who’s ever seen me naked, and the only man I’ve ever felt a soul-deep connection with, makes it an intensely erotic experience. I watch his eyes follow the curve of my breasts, and his hand follows with a sweeping motion. He never meets my gaze. So precise. Dedicated.

I can’t sit here much longer. My mind keeps teasing me with images of me climbing onto his lap to straddle his waist. I want his fist in my hair.

“Thanks for doing this, Alexa” he says, his voice cracking the silence. “You’re an amazing subject.”

I hope I can be an amazing fuck, too.

If I’m being honest with myself, that’s what I’m really worried about. But I don’t know if I’ll ever figure it out, because he keeps behaving all professional when more than an hour ago he told me he wanted to bend me over his hood and fuck me.

And the thought makes me want to touch myself.

Why don’t you?

My lips curve.

Yes. Let’s see how well-accomplished artist Lucas Wood controls himself when I have my fingers deep inside my pussy. I’m coy, at first. I spread my legs, giving him a full view of my innocent pussy.

The sound of the scratching pencil halts as I lower my right hand to my mound, parting the delicate petals aside. I touch myself with two fingers, sliding in the thick juice. He watches me, not even pretending to draw anymore. Instead his gaze is irresistibly drawn to the ache between my legs.

“Alexa—”

But his voice cuts off abruptly with my gasp when I penetrate myself, making my fingers curve upward to hit that sweet spot. I’m so wet it’s obscene, full of fire for the way he looks at me right now, his eyes locked on my pumping fingers. My lips feel hot. I touch my boobs with my other hand. Grab the nipple and squeeze.

“Alexa,” he says in a stronger voice. “That’s enough.”

“Or what?”

I insert a third finger, widening my pussy just enough to make it hurt. He slams the pencil on the easel and gets to his feet. His long, thick cock is raised against his jeans, the fabric stretched so much it looks painful. It would be incredibly sexy if it weren’t for the fury thickening his features.

“I want you. You want me. What are you waiting for?”

He beats his anger down.

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