Excerpt:
The pen tickled her skin, leaving behind inked
notes and lyrics. She wanted to cry, but didn't. He was the most extraordinary
man she'd ever met and with each sketch of his pen, each new ink blot that he
skillfully crafted on her flesh, she fell deeper and harder then she could've
ever imagined. He was masculine yet soft, aggressive yet pliable. Hard work
left his hands calloused, yet each stroke of the pen was precise and swift.
And then he sang
without playing as he continued to compose on her skin. Hands down, no
comparison, it was the most sensual moment of her adult life.
As he shaded notes
and wrote lyrics, her arousal heightened until her nipples were hard. If she
thought her well of lust had run dry, she was mistaken. It pooled between her
legs and if the growing size of his erection was any indication, he was just as
turned on by their artistic moment as she was.
He picked and
strummed the strings of her heart as capably as he handled his instrument.
When the music died,
he nodded approval. "You inspire me," he said.
"If that's what
this is, I'll always aspire to inspire you," she whispered.
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