Her body strung tight. Every muscle, sinew and tendon strained, fought its position. That’s what happens when you sit for a portrait and don’t move for thirty minutes.
If Rebecca widened her knees any further she would be in a full split. She endeavored to obey Alexander’s order anyway. Her body would. In moments like this, it followed Alexander’s lead as if tied to him by puppet strings.
Her arms shook as she leaned against them, her legs spread wide revealing even more of herself.
She studied Alexander’s eyes. As soon as she’d been positioned like this, he’d asked for them in his indomitable way. “Give me your eyes.” His silky voice had matched his presence so perfectly it was almost as if he wasn’t real.
But he was real.
Many people revered Alexander over the years. But they could never know him as well as she. She’d seen this nearly-invincible man vulnerable—when he was younger and hadn’t yet shaped himself to be the indomitable Alexander Rockingham.
Bu even then, vulnerable or not, she’d never see him weak. Even forty years ago, standing outside the Wynter’s locked gate trying to get inside to her and their dying lover, Charles. Today she doubted he would ever let something as feeble as a 16 foot iron gate stand between her and Eric.
She ached to swat the old memories away, stay present.
It was futile.
She drank in the icy blue sky that seemed to perpetually float in Alexander’s eyes. They were the most alive eyes she’d ever seen.
To think she and Alexander been separated for decades until a few years ago. How had she survived that time? How had she breathed?
Perhaps that’s why she’d always been so tired back then. Her energy had had a singular purpose during those lonely years: Don’t think about Alexander. Now that’s all she did. Thought about him—and now Eric who only had his legs visible behind the wide canvas on which he painted.
Any women’s magazine will tell you never to make men the center of your life. But those editors had never met these two men.
“Steady,” Alexander’s voice rumbled.
Her knees had begun to quiver. They would. The love of her life stood before her, had taken her to the precipice of coming many times over the last 48 hours—but not allowed her to release. Steady wasn’t possible.
First, he’d denied her an orgasm last night. Then in his office. Then after one orgasm, he brought her up to the precipice again in the limousine. They circledthe Capitol Building sixteen times (yes, she’d counted) before they were back where they started—at Club Accendos though this time in their private rooms upstairs. Instead of finishing her, Alexander delayed again. He wanted Eric to paint her portrait.
Alexander glanced down at the canvas that blocked most of Eric from her sight. Only his legs showed—bare legs. Of course, he hadn’t allowed the man to wear a stitch of clothing as he painted her portrait. She imagined his cock standing at full attention behind that canvas. The thought only made her thighs wetter.
Alexander murmured. “Beautiful choice of color.” She didn’t know if he referred to what he saw in the picture or Eric.
Great. Now she could only think of Eric’s incredible body. Men. They only got hotter with age.
The silver had deepened at his temples, and around that magnificent organ, unavailable to her right now. But the lines around his forehead and eyes had softened a bit since the day she met him.
Focus, she reminded herself. Stop thinking about the past.
Eric made an unhappy sound, a kind of deep grunt as if displeased about something. Her belly jumped a little. Perhaps he wasn’t inspired by her like this—splayed out, available.
“Everything OK?” She couldn’t help but ask the question.
Neither man answered. Instead Alexander placed his large hand on Eric’s shoulder and the man’s legs quivered. She didn’t need to see him to see how his whole body might be trembling.
Alexander moved to stand behind him. He was so tall his head rose above the canvas perched on the tripod. The sight of him vanished behind the picture. A long moan came out of Eric. His legs shot out straight as if jolted with electricity. What were they doing back there?
“Rebecca stay where you are.” Alexander knew her so well, knew her urge to jump off the small chaise to do just that.
A small whimper came out of Eric followed by soft thumps. It was sound of flesh being batted about. Her imagination fired. Alexander was teasing him. Maybe torturing him.
Alexander’s head reappeared as he straightened. His blue eyes met hers as his gaze honed on her anew. “Much better. Eric now matches you in that gorgeous color.”
Alexander emerged from behind the canvas and was at her feet in two strides. He smiled down at her. “Now, how about a little inspiration for Eric? To keep him … standing tall? Touch yourself.”
He spun on his heel and seated himself in a chair next to where Eric worked.
She brought her dominant hand to between her legs.
“No, your other hand.”
Oh great. It would take her twice as long if she had to use her left. Then again, she had been in this position for so long her fingers were practically numb. Anyone who’s ever sat for a painting knows fifteen minutes could seem like fifteen hours. But she did what he asked, so grateful that he would allow herself to finally come.
She quickened her fingers eager for a release.
Alexander leaned further back into his chair. “Tell me when you’re close.”
Damn it. She was going to be told to stop again, wasn’t she?
Within minutes her body was on that edge, that glorious spot where you know you’re about to come. And whether it be strong or weak, a beautiful release of tension would follow.
But she was a good girl. At least she tried to be.
Ha, girl. At her age?
“Close,” she eeked out.
“Still your fingers, Rebecca.”
A shot of anger lit up her body from toes to hair. Alexander’s cruel streak was on fire today. But she had asked for his dominance. She had practically begged him for it.
Then he did something she had not expected. He rose. Removed his jacket. Draped it over the chair. Rolled up his shirt sleeves. He took his sweet time doing it, of course, revealing his flesh to her inch by inch. The soft sound of fabric as he bared his forearms joined the swiff-swiff-swiff of Eric’s brush moving over canvas.
The man may be in his early 60s but he was beyond beautiful. He took good care of himself, and it showed. Hard muscle that glided under skin and hair peppered with silver.
Two strides and again he was before her. He hooked a hand under each of her knees and twisted her so her back fell against the chaise’s curved side.
Alexander unbuckled his pants. “Eric, do you have enough where you can finish without seeing Rebecca?”
She craned her neck around Alexander and caught a glimpse of Eric appearing from behind the canvas. Nude. Beautifully erect. Flushed from head to toe. A wash of red paint smeared on one thigh. “I do. I can finish here without Rebecca sitting for it. I have her memorized.”
“Very good.” Alexander never stop staring at her. “Come join us. Rebecca, love. Open your mouth.”
He didn’t have to ask twice.
“You did so well during our little car ride. I’d like you to do the same for Eric.”
She loved being with Eric as much as she loved being with Alexander but that was not what she had in mind. Eric either. A flicker of disappointment rose in his eyes. Eric loved her. She was certain of it. But Alexander so infrequently gave himself to the man, his eyes drooping a bit was justified.
Eric, however, didn’t hesitate to appear by her head. She lifted her chin and let her head fall back. He fed himself to her open mouth.
He was not as thick and long as Alexander, but her heart sang with every inch he offered.
She sucked him in a little deeper as Alexander straddled the chaise and entered her in one long smooth stroke. He was always so careful, knowing her body required more care now. Her desires, however, had not abated one bit.
Alexander moved in. Eric moved out. Alexander back in. And together they started a rhythm.
Her hands moved up to Eric’s thighs, not to push him away but to draw him closer. He also was too hesitant with her, as if she were made of spun sugar. Serving these two men at once was a rare gift, one she wished they’d take—with more force.
But her prayers were soon answered. The thrusts grew longer, deeper. The climb back up to the ecstasy ladder was easy. Her mouth was too full to ask permission to come. She would just have to risk it because there was no way in hell she would be able to hold anything back, not when they glided in and out of her with such conviction. Finally.
“Eric,” Alexander growled. “Eyes on me.”
The thought of the two men gazing at each other was ultimately what did it. She came—hard. Sounds reverberated in her throat and her legs twitched.
Alexander’s chuckle soon filled the air, followed by a quick grunt of his own. He filled her completely as did Eric and they both finished inside her together.
As Eric drew himself out, and she caught her breath, a thought sliced through her brain. A vision so clear, she nearly forgot to keep breathing. It was the answer to a question that had been roiling in her brain—what was next for the three of them? She suddenly, inexplicably knew what to do.
She blinked up at Alexander, who cocked his head. “Rebecca?”
“Thank you. Sir.”
His smile returned. “What else is going on inside that pretty head of yours?”
“Nothing.” And everything.
She couldn’t wait to see the portrait Eric painted of her. It would be a constant reminder of this moment when an idea fell into her mind—one that would finally fulfill their destinies, one that would seal them together forever.