Free Sarah Mine by Riann Colton

what she was looking for because her slick walls squeezed on my fingers as she came with another cry. “So sexy,” I said as I kissed down her arched neck, her fingers bumping mine. She reached up with her other hand and grabbed onto the pillow, as if that was the only thing holding her to the ground. With ease, she took a second finger, riding me as I found her swollen nipple waiting for me.
    I throbbed to be back inside that oh-so-greedy, oh-so-generous body. Abandoning her breast, I ran my cheek down her stomach, feeling the muscles tightening and pulling with each needy roll of her hips. “Move it,” I said, brushing her fingers. I smiled when she screamed, my tongue sliding over her. One more lick had her arching hard, squeezing my fingers and spilling over me.
    “Oh so sexy,” I said, sliding my fingers free.
    Get inside her now.
    It was my only thought as I brought her to orgasm again. “Hill.” A hand pressed on my shoulder. Down? Up? I had a feeling she had no idea. Grinning, I looked up at her. And lost my breath. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes closed though her lashes were fluttering. I grabbed her hand and slid it back where it had been. Rolling away from her, I grabbed my camera, then zoomed in on her face.
    I waited, watching her through the viewfinder, her soft cries sliding over my skin like a touch. Not yet. Not yet. “Sarah.”
    “Don’t you dare,” she moaned.
    Grinning, I shifted the shot and took it of her fingers. They flexed as her back bowed. Returning to her face, I caught the sensual image of her orgasm. I slid over her, unable to resist her anymore. As if I ever had.
    “I hate you,” she whispered as she lifted her head to kiss me. Slick fingers found me and I groaned as she stroked. “I hate you so much.”
    “No, you don’t,” I murmured as I let her guide me in. “Oh, no you don’t.”
    “No,” she moaned, her legs wrapping around my hips and she met my thrusts. “I really don’t. Come inside me, Hill.”
    “Look at me when I do.”
    Her eyes opened and I stared into them as I did exactly as the lady requested. It was the least I could do.
    Sarah
    “Can I show you something?” I didn’t look up from my sketchpad. What was I doing? There had always been fences with Hill. Places neither of us dared to go. I half expected to wake up and find him gone again. But he was still there, sprawled on my couch as he read a book, his jeans open at the waist.
    Sexy man.
    “Now?”
    Frowning, I contemplated the question. If not now then it would be never. Nodding, I finally met his gaze. “Now.” With a loud exhale, I set down my pad and pen, then stood up. The rubbing of his jeans over the couch cushions seemed loud to me as I walked down the hall, Hill following. “You showed me yours,” I said as I gripped the doorknob. “This is mine.”
    Pushing the door open to the studio was one of the hardest things I had ever done. Because this was it. Jax was right. I needed to tell Hill what had happened because someone would tell him. The hell if I wanted Brandi to tell him out of spite.
    It wasn’t the fanciest studio, but then I wasn’t the fanciest girl. Closing the door, I leaned against it as Hill gave the room a thorough look over.
    Then he began to walk around. There were a few projects on the go because a few people I had met in rehab and I were putting together a show. Alistair Holt, who had once been pretty big in the Canadian art scene with his photography, had decided that it was time to return to what he saw as his slippery slope downward and had contacted me and the others about doing a show in Vancouver, centered around our addictions.
    It was an opportunity of a lifetime and it terrified me. I was a bartender in a town of seven hundred people. No one knew. Not even Jax. “Don’t look at that one yet!” I held out my hand, stopping him when he approached a long ream of paper on the floor. He had been quiet since he had walked in. “I need to…” I rubbed a