Free Love's Portrait by Monica Burns

teased her with one sensation after another.
    She moaned at the explosion of sensation spiraling through her body. Her hips shifted restlessly, writhing beneath his expert touch. Never in her life had she experienced anything like this. Heat engulfed her, and she clutched at his jacket as pleasure streaked through her.
    “Admit it, you like what I’m doing to you.” His mouth nibbled at her ear.
    “N…no. I…”
    “ Admit it .” His fingers delved into her in a sinfully delicious thrust and her insides curled with tension.
    “Dear Lord, yes . Yes, I like it.” The words were a hoarse cry of need. In the deep recesses of her mind, she barely recognized the voice as her own. It was as though she was on fire from the inside out. He continued to tease her, his fingers working an incredible magic on her body.
    “Soon, very soon, my sweet, I’m going to fill you completely. I’m going to enjoy having this tight cunny of yours squeezing on my hot cock until you make me explode with pleasure.”
    There was a roughness to his voice indicated how aroused he was at the moment, while the erotic image he’d described filled her with a numbing heat. The words only served to make her hotter and she bucked against his hand. Her body craved more and she moaned low in her throat. His thumb swirled around her sensitive nub nestled in her slick folds.
    “Damn, you’re going to feel good wrapped around my cock. It’s going to be like hot, liquid velvet wrapping around me.” He rubbed harder at the spot between her legs until the caress tugged the last breath of air from her lungs. With a jerk, her body surged upward against his hand just before she exploded. Intense waves of sensation rolled over her and small shudders shook her body. Dazed she opened her eyes to look at him. Before she knew what she was doing, her hand cupped his cheek. She could see the desire in his eyes, and she knew he wanted her. And she wanted him. Desperately.
    But she couldn’t say the words. This was a wager to him. There could only be one night between them. Anything more and she realized she might very well be lost. But oh God, how she wanted that night now. This very instant.
    As if he could read her mind, he quirked an eyebrow upward and smiled. “No. I don’t think so. Not yet, even though the thought is quite tempting.”
    Appalled by her wanton behavior and the desire still curling in her stomach, she shoved her way out of his arms and rose to her feet. She was mortified to know he was toying with her. She didn’t want this man to control her, but already his touch was capable of holding her captive to wicked pleasure and delight. The thought frightened and angered her. With shaking hands, she straightened her clothing and tried to regain her composure.
    “I think it’s time for you to leave, Mr. St. Claire.”
    “Why? Because I refuse to take you here and now?”
    She whirled away and stalked toward the window. Hands pressed against her belly, she tried to still the churning inside her.
    “I don’t understand you. I have said I will honor my debt, and yet you toy with me as a cat does a mouse. I care little for the sensation.”
    “And it’s sensation I want you to feel, Julia. I want the woman I saw in that portrait—lusty, bold and adventurous.” Joining her at the window, he turned her to face him. “I want you to come to my bed of your own free will.”
    “That portrait was not for anyone to see. It’s not real. That woman doesn’t exist.” Fists clenching the fabric of her green silk skirts, she grew stiff as a metal rod as he dipped his head toward her.
    “You’re wrong, Julia. That woman exists. A good artist always sees beneath the surface. You’re simply afraid.”
    “I am not,” she exclaimed with anger. But even as she spoke, she knew he was right. And she didn’t like having to admit Morgan St. Claire might be right about something where she was concerned. She watched his eyes narrow with a speculative gleam