Becoming His Muse, Part Three by KC Martin Read Free Book Online Page A

grind against him, finding my rhythm again, riding him and the waves of pleasure pouring through me. He bites his lip, trying to hold back his own climax as I crest and crash over him. My pussy clenches and releases its waves of radiating energy.
    “Oh, god,” he moans, losing control. I feel him pulse inside me as we come together. He holds me tight to him until our shudders subside. I fall against his chest to catch my breath. I hear his heart beating fast.
    We hold each other until we calm down and then Logan gets up to dispose of the condom. When he returns he kisses my lips, cheeks, nipples, and belly. When he moves lower, I touch his hair and say, “What are you doing?”
    “Being true to my word.”
    His mouth clamps onto my sensitive clit. “You don’t have to…”
    “Be careful what you wish for, Ava.” He doesn’t let up until I come again in his mouth.
    After, feeling limp and satiated, Logan gets up to put the pizza in the oven and pour some wine.
    For the rest of the long, sweet night, he remains true to his word.

Chapter Eight
    Between exams, studio time, and another trip to DnC’s loft, the following two weeks fly by and then we are on our way to New York.
    When we emerge from the bowels of Penn Station on Friday evening, a light snow is falling. The tall buildings and hum of the city envelope me. I feel as if I’m stepping into a painting of my life, as if a new story is just beginning.
    Christmas lights blink from windows and street lamps. People bustle along the street, intent on their destinations. A scent of roasting chestnuts wafts by.
    Logan steps onto the street to hail a taxi. Immediately, one of a stream of yellow cabs pulls over. We climb in.
    “Eleventh and Waverly in the village,” says Logan to the cab driver.
    “I thought you lived in Soho,” I say.
    “I sublet my apartment for the duration of the residency so we’ll be staying at my friend’s place.”
    I’m a little disappointed. I wanted to see Logan’s apartment, his home.
    “He’s gone for the weekend. But he always keeps the place well-stocked—food, booze, music, movies, condoms. We won’t ever have to leave.”
    I whack him on the arm and laugh. “I’m here for the museums and you know it. I want to see art, be inspired, soak up the genius of masterpieces.”
    Logan leans over to me and whispers in my ear.
    “The only art I’m interested in is the masterpiece between your legs.”
    I’d have whacked him again, and harder, for a crack like that, except that the way he says it is utterly genuine and full of longing.
    His green eyes bore into mine and he adds, “And what’s between your ears, of course. It’s not what you think. You are my inspiration, Ava. All of you. Your pussy, your eyes, your mind, the mole on the outside of your left tit.”
    He reaches for it as he says the word.
    “Logan! We’re in a taxi .” I glance at the cabdriver.
    He laughs. “You think these guys haven’t seen everything already driving around this city?”
    He slides his hand from my knee to my upper thigh. My whole body tingles.
    He leans closer and whispers more ardently.
    “Ava, everything about you inspires me. And when I am between your legs, when I’m inside you, I feel a masterpiece growing inside me. So if you, my inspiration, want to go look at dead people’s paintings to get inspired then I will trail along behind you, waiting for you to be filled with a passion that art gives you, until you are overflowing and ready to lie back and let me take my fill of you.”
    I’m afraid he’s going to try to do that right now. He’s sliding his hand right between my legs. I’m wearing thigh high socks under my skirt and I feel his fingers brush up against my soft folds barely concealed by my silk panties. Instinctively, I want to give in to his touch, but we’re at a stop sign and people are looking in the cab window. I push his hand away and try to distract him.
    “What about your chapters?”
    This seems to work.