Sculptor: A Steamy Romance Read online

  2

  Stella

  I try to keep my cool as I force my legs to keep moving away from the hunk who made me come for the first time from a man's touch.

  My knees are shaking as I bumble toward my gray Aston Martin, and I feel like they’ll give out any second now.

  I’m in absolute shock—I can't believe what I just did!

  I mean, I can, but I'm still shocked I let things get so far.

  None of my pageant training prepared me for a moment such as that; my composure is ruined.

  But at least he isn’t seeing it.

  It’s not just the naughty things that have me shaken—it’s the potential consequences.

  What if someone found out? What if someone had walked in while we were going at it?

  My life could have been ruined!

  If my fiancé finds out what happened, who knows what he'll do.

  He's extremely rich and powerful, and part of the reason he’s marrying me is so that he can have virginal me.

  I'm still technically a virgin, although no one's ever licked me before, but even though it's an arranged marriage, I still cheated and I feel terrible.

  Still, I’m glad before I marry that old, withered guy I had one experience with a handsome virile man who sets me on fire.

  I’ll move on with my commitment, but at least I’ll have that sweet memory.

  Oh, who am I kidding?

  I'll never get Derek out of my head now.

  I take a deep breath, hoping to walk steadier the last few yards to the car my fiancé gave me.

  Derek Carter.

  That it was my first crush sitting in that studio—a guy I haven’t seen or heard from in over seven years—is another reason my knees can’t stop shaking.

  No matter how many clues I gathered to track the artist known as Dagor down, I never expected him to turn out to be the boy I was in love with since I was nine years old.

  The minute I saw him, I knew I was doomed.

  I recognized his back tattoo as he sat there shirtless, sculpted and inked, bent over his work, and I suddenly realized my crush on him hadn’t really gone anywhere.

  My heart started pounding loudly, echoing in my ears, and all sorts of other body parts started pulsing. I felt alive, heated, and in great danger.

  I almost felt like I was a kid again, reduced to a primal response, frozen until I steeled myself to complete what I went there to do.

  Before I turned his music off and he turned around, part of me was still in denial that it was him, figuring it had to be a coincidence or something—that maybe he and his team got the same tattoo together, and one of them had become the sought-after artist instead, but when he turned to me and those familiar green eyes met mine, it’s a wonder I didn’t collapse then.

  He had no idea the power he had over me from that moment on—he could have gotten me to do a lot more than I did.

  I crushed on Derek as a tween and straight through my early teens, easy to maintain since he was my brother's best friend and around all the time by then.

  I haven't seen him since they stopped hanging out.

  He and my brother joined the military while I was in junior high, and at some point, I guess they just grew apart.

  Probably since my brother dropped out of military training but Derek stayed.

  When it became clear they were no longer friends, I was crushed Derek wouldn’t be stopping by anymore, and as the years passed, I thought I'd never see him again.

  And now here is, seven years later—the man behind the Dagor sculptures, and looking even more devastatingly handsome than before.

  The fire in Derek’s eyes as he seethed in anger then burned with obvious desire made me wet immediately.

  My brain almost stopped working—it’s a wonder I was able to keep my physical composure and not let on how much louder my heartbeats had gotten in my ears, how much my pussy tingled with interest, how desperately I wanted him to finally say he felt the same way about me as I felt about him so many years ago.

  I knew our age difference was a big problem back then, but we’re both adults now and I wanted him to welcome me properly.

  The way he looked at me at first, I thought he remembered me, but it was soon obvious he didn’t.

  The shy girl with the frequently frizzy hair, black-framed glasses and heart eyes? Yeah, I guess I look nothing like that girl anymore.

  He has no clue who I am and that’s probably a good thing—I was so pathetically in love with him back then.

  At least now I can get more real responses from him; he won’t do that condescending sort of exaggerated niceness to a friend’s younger sister.

  He’ll interact with me on a genuine level and see me for who I really am, and I’m not that insecure young girl anymore—although my heart aches for him now more than ever.

  Thankfully, it’s a bit of a drive from Derek’s secluded studio—I’ll have time to compose myself again before meeting up with my best friend, Celeste, at a shopping center later.

  I definitely have to stop home first and clean up.

  And put on a new pair of panties.

  I try not to think about what use Derek has for the ones I left behind.

  I take another deep breath as I settle in behind the wheel then start the car, getting my bearings and sorting out the navigation.

  It’s a good thing Derek got distracted so quickly—he didn’t get to press me about how I found him.

  I could tell he was about to grill me about it at first, but other matters quickly became more pressing.

  I smile to myself at my tiny dirty joke.

  The first thing I do when I get to the shopping center is head to the jewelry story I left my engagement ring in to be cleaned.

  Harold would be so mad if he knew where I’d left his precious gift.

  I don’t know how much it’s worth exactly, but I’m sure he wouldn’t have recommended I drop it off at any old jewelry store to be polished.

  Maybe subconsciously I was hoping someone would lose it or run off with it.

  Not that that would actually change anything—I’d still be engaged to Harold, and he’d probably just replace it with firm instructions for taking care of it.

  In the end, I’d end up paying for it, one way or another.

  I slip the sparkling ring on my finger, hating its presence even more despite its obnoxious beauty.

  I check the time.

  Celeste will be here any minute now, so I seek out a bench near our designated meeting place to wait.

  I’m trying to stop my mind from replaying parts of my encounter with Derek when I suddenly hear a buzz—a text has arrived on my burner phone.

  It can only be from Derek since I obtained the phone for just this purpose and he’s the only one with the number.

  Just testing, goddess, the text says, the wording all I need to confirm identity.

  Yes, please send your rate, I type back.

  It’s the only piece of information missing for the transaction to be official, and I need to send half the deposit now, the other half due upon completion.

  The process of actually wiring the funds to him should be easy enough since my husband-to-be once commissioned his work—the piece I fell in love with in Harold’s mansion is the reason I sought out the artist behind it, after all, knowing a sculpture from such an artist would make the perfect gift for my mom.

  The wooden anthropomorphic tree reminded me of her somehow, exuding immense passion, enormous stress, yet immense strength.

  I’m still staring at Derek’s text when Celeste finally arrives.

  "There you are," she says, bright blue eyes shining, short, curly blond hair bouncing with her excited movements, her cheeks flushed.

  Somehow, her round cheeks always seem to be flushed.

  "Sorry I'm late,” she says.

  She’s always late, but I don’t bother pointing that out.

  "No prob! It gave me time to pick up my ring from the cleaners. And to think.�
��

  Her brows come together a little, an extra spark coming to her eyes.

  I know she’s sensing the weight of my scandal, but I can’t really talk about what happened earlier today just yet. And certainly not all of it.

  “Think about what?” she asks casually, but I know that tone.

  She knows something major has gone down, and she is practically salivating.

  "I'll tell you later. Come on, let's go find that outfit,” I say as I grab her arm and pull her toward the first store.

  I feel sort of bad for her.

  Her brother's getting married the same month as me and she's a bridesmaid in both of our weddings, but we're currently shopping for a dress for some other wedding for an old high school friend of ours.

  She says she's not bothered, but it must suck to feel like everyone's getting married at once while you're still single.

  Obviously, I didn't have to help her choose a dress, but we take any opportunity to hang out, and I think she actually appreciates my fashion opinions.

  "So I'm thinking blue this time since peach and purple are taken for the other weddings,” she says.

  "Sounds good to me! Let's see what we find."

  Celeste hasn’t let me totally get away with not sharing what happened today, sliding in a probing question every now and then, but I keep shaking my head or finding a way to smoothly change the subject.

  I know it’s killing her—being denied something you know is going to be so juicy can’t be fun, but I haven’t gathered my thoughts yet, and with something like this, I have to be very careful.

  I know I’m probably overthinking it, but I figure approaching with caution is best.

  I mean, what do I say?

  That I ran into my old crush earlier and realized I still have feelings for him?

  I know it sounds simple, but I don’t want to hear any opinions on that right now when everything is still so fresh.

  Plus I have to get my story together—I don’t want to slip about the identity of Dagor.

  The two being one and the same is still a secret, and though Celeste has been my best friend since childhood and has proven herself capable of keeping secrets, I still feel protective of Derek and don’t want to be the one to out him.

  I smile at whatever she just said as her dress gets rung up, recognizing I was supposed to respond, but not hearing a word she said for the past minute or so.

  I feel bad so I’ll just tell her a little.

  Thankfully I haven’t let her in on my plan to get my mom a Dagor sculpture for her birthday yet, so I can just leave that part out and tell her I ran into Derek on my way here.

  I start steeling myself to open up as we’re leaving the store, but I choke on my words and freeze in my tracks, my eyes locked straight ahead.

  I’m aware of Celeste stopping a few paces in front of me once she realizes I stopped, and she’s now staring at me—or so I assume since my eyes are on the man who had his mouth on my pussy just a few hours earlier, a man who licked me till I climaxed on his face.

  "Stella?" Celeste asks, her voice sounding sort of far away.

  Her eyes move from my face to the object in the path of my focused eyes.

  "Goddess," Derek says in a rumbling voice and with a wide, white-teethed grin that soaks my new panties immediately. "Fancy running into you again."

  "What are you doing here?" I ask, practically quaking and embarrassed my voice came out so unsteadily.

  "It's a mall,” he says, shrugging his sculpted shoulders. “I’m shopping. Grabbing some art supplies.”

  I start wondering if he followed me, but his eyes slide to my ring finger and I immediately want the earth to swallow me.

  I feel unreasonably guilty about wearing it, and I start fiddling with it as if it’ll help relieve some of the shame.

  He probably wouldn’t have missed it even if I’d been holding my hand behind my back—it’s huge and extra sparkly from being cleaned.

  I’ve probably been blinding half the people in my path with it.

  “What the hell is this?” Derek asks, indicating my finger, his green eyes flashing.

  His voice reminds me of the sort of calm that precedes a storm.

  I know I shouldn’t feel bad he didn’t know—that I don’t owe him anything considering the way things went down—but I can’t stop the remorse filling me.

  I’ve disappointed him, or even worse, hurt his feelings, and the thought of that is killing me.

  I don’t want Derek Carter thinking poorly of me!

  “Uh, I’ll make myself scarce,” Celeste says, her eyes darting between mine and Derek’s before settling on my face with a pointed look.

  She stares at me until I confirm she’s fine to leave with a slight nod of my head.

  What a friend—if the vibe had been different, she would have been squaring up to fight, but she knows there’s some sort of history here that needs to be hashed out.

  She probably assumes he’s some guy I dated and never told her about, a guy who is now unpleasantly surprised by my obvious impending nuptials.

  I guess that’s not too far off.

  “I’ll meet you at the gelato place in about ten minutes,” I tell her, impressed by how calm I sound while inwardly preparing for a storm.

  3

  Derek

  I don’t remember the last time my emotions jerked me around like this.

  Actually, I do—just earlier today when the goddess first walked into my life, and the rage filling me that someone dared trespass my studio quickly dissolved into all-consuming lust.

  When the goddess left me in my studio, spent, it took a moment to sink in what had just happened—like I’d gotten sideswiped by a bike going at full speed.

  She zapped me momentarily, but my energy returned with a vengeance and suddenly, ideas kept coming and I was sketching out all sorts of concepts based on her tantalizing form.

  Beyond the initial sculpture idea that flashed in my mind when I first laid eyes on her, I started envisioning so many ways I could transform her likeness—even considering painting her, though I haven’t picked up brushes in a while.

  I was inspired in a way I hadn’t felt since discovering my identity as an artist, bubbling over with possibilities—and not just for art.

  My life has been fairly tranquil the past few years—with the money I saved up, I was able to buy a place, and eventually a studio, entertain a revolving door of women, and I’ve been fine with that, but I suddenly found myself wanting so much more, and the goddess holds the key to my ultimate happiness.

  So much for not getting distracted by some tail.

  With the pressure on to complete two projects in a short span, my focus was smashed, and I couldn’t even look at the contents of the package she left.

  I thought taking a short break to pick up paint supplies in case inspiration struck me unexpectedly would help get me back on track, but now here I am, faced with the goddess again.

  I haven’t had a single person disrupt my life so much since I left the military!

  I’m back to being pissed at this betrayal, yet I still want to shove her up against the nearest wall and take her.

  She sure brings out the extremes in me because I was happy as fuck—practically whistling as I strolled up—until I spotted that piece of jewelry.

  Her engagement ring nearly deranges me, and I’m hoping she’s just wearing it to ward off losers coming on to her, but who am I fooling? A ring like that? As I suspected at first, Goddess is the trophy of some sugar daddy, a guy with hefty means.

  She hid that sparkling diamond from me to get what she wanted from me and now I’m losing it.

  How can she be taken when she’s mine?

  I knew a girl like her probably wouldn’t be into me for anything long term, but here I am, inspired to buy some paints—something I haven’t done in years—all because of the goddess and she turns out to be common after all.

  I grab her hand and lead her to a storefront under r
enovation, slipping through the construction and breaking into the abandoned store space.

  I lead her to a back room in case someone else has the same idea, and trap us in a space barely big enough for both of us—what might have been a changing room.

  “Does that mean what I think it means?” I ask her, shooting a disgusted glance down at her ring.

  She nods.

  So she really is taken? Where the fuck was that ring earlier? And who the hell is she tied to?

  Does he eat her till she comes as hard as she did when I had my lips on her cunt?

  “Well, I didn’t know I was eating out a taken woman. Color me confused—I’m pretty sure that wasn’t there earlier, and you didn’t say anything about a husband…”

  “Fiancé.”

  “Fiancé. He doesn’t mind you sleeping around, then?”

  Does he have a pencil-sized dick so that her pussy clamps down on my finger like it’s the biggest thing that’s ever been up that sweet, warm passage of hers?

  Does he take advantage of the fact that he has a goddess sleeping next to him at night?

  Why am I even calling her a goddess anyway when she’s just like all the others after all?

  She wants to give it up like that, I might as well get my fill.

  I press her against me, making sure to grind my hard cock against her.

  Her breath catches.

  “You want it right now, don’t you, you filthy slut…”

  The need is all over her face.

  Her delicious mouth is hanging slightly open and she has already closed her eyes.

  “You don’t understand…” she whispers.

  “What? That you seduced me, knowing full well you had other…commitments? That you distracted me for one purpose only—to get me to do your bidding? Well, your plan worked like a charm. How about you pay up on the first half of my commission? I’ve decided the price, and I can take it right now.”

  Her pretty peepers pop open.

  “You can’t be serious,” she says.

  I start loosening my jeans, looking straight into her stormy eyes as I do so, and my cock is out in no time, thick and ready to sink into her.