Back in the bedroom, I peeled off the soaked tank top, leaving just my lace bra and black thong, watching his Adam’s apple bob as I traced a finger along the waistband. "You’ve been staring all day," I purred, sinking to my knees. His cock twitched free the second my lips brushed the tip—no more pretnding this was about art. I took him deep, savoring the way he groaned, his hands tangling in my hair. Turns out, the real masterpiece was him fucking me against the bed, my milk-slicked skin sticking to his chest as he ruined me for every other man who’d only look and never touch.

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