Run to Love (Triple R Book 1) by Jules Dixon Read Free Book Online

Any fantasy I could’ve concocted about his physique was woefully misguided. He was a hundred times better in real life. One thousand times better .
    Every muscle deserved flawless representation on the paper, and his man parts—although not explicitly porn-sized—complemented him in proportion. They were a specimen of male I’d never seen before, not that I’d seen a wide variety. Three. That was the breadth of my knowledge. Jude was all man down there, trimmed man, covered in a fine mesh of curly, sable brown hair, and his testicles dropped like two weighted golf balls. His penis curved perfectly, the pink tissue caressing against his sack like it was in the most comfortable place ever.
    Before the hour of class ended, I’d downed three bottles of water because the tense and anxiety-riddled situation had me sweating like a high school slut at confessional.
    Edwyn leaned over. “You okay, gorgeous?”
    “Just overwhelmed.”
    “I can relate.” Edwyn examined my sketch. “Holy crap, Presley, that’s amazing!”
    I scrutinized the drawing and swallowed hard while a bead of sweat trickled down my temple. It was my best work. What I’d created was almost a line for line, shape for shape, curve for curve exact replica of the original human work of art.
    “Thanks.”
    I flipped the sketchpad to cover my efforts and packed my supplies, hoping to hightail out of the room through the back door and straight to the bathroom and avoid talking to the man whose mental image I’d masturbated to last night. The thought mortified me to the molecular level. In my efforts to pack up, I became oblivious to everything else happening around me, until a deep voice weakened my knees.
    “Hi, Presley.”
    Squatting at my art bag, I mumbled a choice curse word and stood. “Hello, Jude.”
    “Um, so you’re an artist?” He adjusted his black robe and retied the long sash.
    “Yeah, as a hobby. Nothing da Vinci or Matisse would be proud of, that’s for sure.” I cringed as my bladder spasmed.
    His brow furrowed. “Well, just wanted to say hello. I’ll see you on Friday at five a.m., bright and early.”
    “I’ll be there. Have a good night, Jude.”
    “Thanks. Bye, Presley.”
    The last smile he flashed qualified as heavenly and a memory that would probably keep me up tonight. My legs failed to move past the doorway, so I waited for him to brush ahead of me before I turned to run to the women’s bathroom.
    ****
Jude
After changing in the men’s bathroom stall, which was only big enough for a leprechaun, I splashed cold water on my face. My first time posing as a nude model, and although my horizontally oriented and absolutely-lacking-any-body-consciousness younger brother would probably be a better choice, I assumed he suggested my name because of his rotating work schedule, but maybe one of the girls had nixed the idea, too. I didn’t know if they had that kind of pull in his life or not.
    I didn’t mind the posing, but I didn’t realize Presley would be in the class. Watching her penetrating green eyes flash from behind that white sketchpad, teasing me every time I glanced her way, was enough to get the heavy-hanging weight lifter to start pumping up from his inert position. By sheer will alone, I kept him lifeless. I brought every penis-deflating baseball-like meditation to the forefront of my thoughts, instead of the wicked dreams I’d had for the last two nights about both normal and depraved sexual positions I wanted to see Presley contorted in, watching her coming undone under me and with me. The visions are killing me … slowly.
    I collected my bag and walked out of the bathroom, not remembering which way the front door was. Before I had time to react to the wrong choice of direction, my body slammed into someone. I recognized a female gasp and the clatter of a bag, purse, and paper hitting the tile floor of the hallway.
    “Shit!” I grabbed for the person, hoping to at least save her from following her