Chapter 4: The Billionaire's Muse

~ DANTE ~

I couldn't sleep. All night, I lay in my bed staring at the ceiling, my cock hard and aching, replaying the taste of her on my tongue.

The sound of her moans echoes in my head. The way she'd obeyed me, even while that smart mouth of hers wanted to push back.

Aria. Even her name tasted sweet.

By dawn, I gave up on sleep. I went to my studio, which usually brought me peace. It was filled with canvas, paints, and brushes.

I have loved painting because, with painting, I was in total control, unlike people whom I had to use money and sometimes even force to exert control.

I picked up my brush, intending to paint her expression and her glazed eyes, but I couldn't focus.

I try to paint her from memory. Her defiant baby blue eyes and her lush mouth.

The curve of her hips. But every stroke felt wrong. Inadequate. My hand couldn't capture what my mind saw, what my body craved.

I needed her. In front of me. Looking raw and completely vulnerable.

I checked my watch. Seven thirty in the morning. She'd probably still be asleep.

Perfect.

I gathered what I needed from the locked cabinet in my bedroom. A small rose-shaped vibrator.

A larger one, curved and ribbed. Both are remotely controlled. Both are capable of driving a woman to the edge of sanity.

And because I wasn't completely without romance, or maybe because I wanted to see how she'd react, I grabbed a single red rose from the arrangement Marie had placed in the hallway yesterday.

I made my way to her room and opened the door without knocking.

She was asleep, curled on her side, the sheets tangled around her legs. Her brown hair was a mess across the pillow. With no makeup, she looked beautiful.

I sat on the edge of her bed. She stirred, her eyes fluttering open.

"Dante?" Her voice was rough with sleep. "What time is it?"

"Early." I held out the rose. "For you."

She blinked at it, confused. Then she took it, sitting up slowly.

The sheet fell to her waist and I could see she was wearing one of my t-shirts. When the hell had she taken that?

"Thank you?" It came out as a question.

"Get up. Shower. Meet me in the studio in twenty minutes." I stood. "And Aria? Don't wear anything under the robe you'll find in your bathroom."

Her eyes widened. "The studio?"

"You're my muse, remember? Time to earn your keep."

I left before she could argue.

Twenty-two minutes later, she was testing me already, she appeared in my studio doorway wearing the black silk robe I'd left for her.

My easel is set up in the center with a blank canvas waiting.

And in front of the windows, a chaise lounge which I used for models.

"Sit," I said, gesturing to the chair.

She moved across the room slowly, taking in the space. When she sat, the robe fell open slightly, revealing the curve of her breast.

I had to adjust myself. My cock was already hard and already losing focus.

"I'm going to paint you," I said. "But first, I need to see something."

I held up the rose-shaped vibrator.

Her eyes went wide. "Is that…"

"Exactly what you think it is." I walked over to her, kneeling in front of the chaise. "Open your legs."

"Dante…"

"Open. Your. Legs."

She did, slowly, the robe falling away completely. She was bare underneath. And already wet.

I pressed the toy against her entrance. She gasped as I pushed it inside, her body accepting it easily.

"This stays in while I paint you. I control when it turns on, how intense it gets, and when you're allowed to come." I held up the remote. "Understood?"

She nodded, breathless.

"Answer me!"

"Understood."

I moved back to my easel and studied her. The way the morning light hit her skin and the rise and fall of her chest. The slight tremble in her thighs.

I pressed the button on the remote.

The toy vibrated to life and she jerked, her hands gripping the edge of the chaise.

"Don't move," I ordered. "I need you to be still."

I started painting. Quick strokes. Capturing the curve of her hip, the arch of her neck. But I couldn't concentrate.

I couldn't focus on the canvas when all I wanted to do was watch her come all over the chaise.

I increased the intensity of the toy in anger.

She moaned, her head falling back. "Dante…"

"Quiet. Don't make a sound unless I tell you to."

I painted her pleasure. The flush spreading across her chest. The way her nipples hardened. The slight parting of her lips.

She was close. I could see it in the tension of her body. I turned the vibrator off.

She whimpered in frustration.

"Not yet," I said, my voice rough. "You come when I say."

I turned it back on. Lower setting this time. Just enough to keep her on edge.

I painted for another ten minutes. Or tried to. My hand was shaking. My cock is straining against my pants.

Fuck the painting.

I increased the intensity to maximum. She cried out, her body arching off the chaise.

"Dante, please…”

"Come," I commanded.

She screams, her entire body convulsing. Her screams filled the studio.

I didn't turn it off.

"Dante…" She was panting. "I can't…"

"You can." I walked over to her, still holding the remote. "Again."

Her eyes were glassy, her body looking oversensitive. But she obeyed, her hips moving against the toy still buzzing inside her.

It took less than two minutes before she came again, sobbing my name.

I finally turned it off and removed the toy. She collapsed against the chaise, trembling.

But I wasn't done.

I held up the second vibrator. It was larger and more intense.

"No," she gasped. "Dante, please. I can't take any more."

Something in her voice made me pause. The genuine exhaustion.

And for a moment, just a tiny moment, I wanted to show her mercy.

And that thought pissed me off.

I didn't do mercy. I didn't go soft for anyone.

"Spread your legs," I ordered, my voice cold.

She looked at me with wide, pleading eyes.

"Now, Aria. Or we're done here and you can pack that sad little box of yours."

She spread her legs slowly, her body still shaking.

"Touch yourself. Use this." I handed her the second toy. "And don't stop until I tell you to."

She took it with trembling hands and pressed it against her clit.

I moved back to my chair and unzipped my pants. My cock sprang free.

I wrapped my hand around it and started stroking slowly.

"Turn it on," I said.

She did. The vibrator hummed and she gasped, her back arching.

I stroked myself faster, watching her. She was watching me too, her eyes locked on my hand moving up and down my cock.

"You want this, don't you?" I groaned, my voice rough.

She looked away, color rising to her face.

"Look at me," I commanded. "And don't you dare look away from me again."

Her eyes snapped back to mine.

"You want my cock? Answer me!"

"I…" She bit her lip. "I want it."

"Want what?"

"Your cock," she whispered. "I want your cock."

Fuck. Hearing her say it nearly made me come right there.

"Crawl to me," I said. "If you do, maybe, just maybe, you might get a taste."

She hesitated, looking desperate and conflicted. I saw the exact moment she decided in her eyes.

She got to her knees on the chaise.

"No," I stopped her. "On all fours. Crawl to me like the desperate bitch you are."

She climbed off the chaise and got on her hands and knees.

Slowly, she crawled across the studio floor toward me, her eyes never leaving mine.

My cock throbbed in my hand. This. This was the image I'd been trying to paint. Complete submission. Desperate need. And her beautiful surrender.

She reached me and knelt between my legs, looking up at me with those wide, pleading eyes.

"Open your mouth," I ordered.

She did.

I guided my cock to her lips, letting just the tip rest against her tongue.

"You're going to take all of me," I said. "Every. Fucking. Inch. Understood?"

She nodded, her mouth still open.

"Then show me how badly you want it."

She closed her lips around me and I groaned, my head falling back.

Finally… finally, I had her exactly where I wanted her.