French took Christmas celebrations very seriously. She pushed back. “Really, sir, I can’t let you do that. I don’t want you to miss your party.”
His eyes widened slightly, then locked on. Nicolai looked almost mad, well, not mad exactly, more determined. Then his lips curled up in an expectant smile and he flashed the look .
“Spicy or mild?”
Julianne bit her lip to hide her grin. There really is no denying this man when he wants something. And that's too spicy for words.
“Spicy, sir. Definitely spicy.”
January
Jacques pulled Nicolai aside and snapped, “What is wrong with you tonight? Get your head in the game or get the hell out.”
Nicolai didn’t answer. He didn’t have one. Instead of being interested in what they were doing, he was distracted and irritated and he didn’t know why. Maybe the room was too hot or the music too loud.
Or maybe the girl is the wrong girl , a nagging voice in the back of his mind whispered before he shut it out.
This is ridiculous .
To say he had a healthy appetite for sex was an understatement. He was a highly sensual person and the physical expression of that sensuality was as fundamental to him as breathing. But lately, he found it hard to muster any enthusiasm for sex.
It wasn’t as if sex wasn’t on his mind. In fact, for the past several weeks, he couldn’t think about much else. But whenever he found himself engaged in the act, he lost focus, each anonymous encounter leaving him more unsatisfied than the last.
When he was in his studio, however, he was highly focused. A flood of inspiration had come to him recently. He worked with a fervor he hadn’t experienced in years. Piece after piece of new art filled his gallery. At this pace, he would have enough for a show in just a few weeks. He couldn’t understand how he could be so expressive when he was alone and so blocked when he was engaged with another person.
Nicolai shook his head and stared down at the woman beneath him. Unlike Jacques, she didn’t seem a bit concerned that his mind was elsewhere. His body was there and that seemed to satisfy her just fine. Perhaps if he closed his eyes.
Bad idea.
As soon as his lids shut, she appeared. Standing alone with her back to him, her figure was cloudy. His eyes tumbled over the dark mane that spilled to the small of her back. She was a perfect hourglass with a slim waist and a luscious heart-shaped backside. As her small hand danced between her palette and the canvas in front of her, her whole body moved with a silent, sensual rhythm.
But she was oblivious to him.
Didn’t she realize how enticing the gentle sway of her ass looked as she moved her brush? Couldn’t she appreciate how her delectable fragrance washed away even the acrid fumes from her paint? How could she not understand that the exquisite piece of art was not the painting she was creating, rather her own lovely form while she created it?
The animal inside of him raged to mark the woman in his mind. He wanted to see his seed splatter across her back. To smell the combined fragrance of her female musk and his essence. To leave her breathless and sated and fully aware that she belonged to no one but him.
Nicolai groaned and thrust into the bland heat surrounding his shaft. His hips moved faster as the hunger for the woman in his mind consumed him.
Turn around. Turn around. Turn around!
He came in hard, shuddering spasms as he strained to reach her.
When he opened his eyes, Jacques was staring up at him through spiky black hair, his hand wrapped around a breast to hold it up for his tongue. Tonight’s entertainment, whose name Nicolai couldn’t remember, lie spread eagle between them, her eyes glassy from pain and sex and lust.
As he slid from her body, he felt utterly alone. Felt the blackness on his soul left by this endless parade of nameless, faceless lovers.
Will I ever feel clean again?
Have I ever been?
His vision blurred as the walls seemed to close in on him