Page 17 of Dirty Promise

“Have you ever looked at something so beautiful it breaks your heart?” I ask.

“Yes,” he says.

When I look at him, he’s watching me with the strangest look on his face, studying me as if I were part of the exhibit.

He starts to say something, but is interrupted by someone I assume is a reporter based on the name tag, the camera around his neck, and the way he carries himself.

“Are you Max Savage?” the man asks. He’s young, maybe early twenties, and has an eager way about him.

“Yes, I am,” Max says.

“I’m Jared Fresher with Art Times Magazine. I was hoping to get a few words with you about your exhibit for the cover of next month’s feature.”

I look at Max, then the reporter, then back at Max. Wait, what? His exhibit?

“Um,” Max says, avoiding eye contact with me. “Can we do this tomorrow? You can call me at the shop and we’ll set up an appointment.” He hands the man a business card he pulls from his pocket.

Once the man is gone I say, “This is your art?”

He shrugs in response.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I wanted your honest opinion.”

“Well,” I say, hooking my arm in his and pulling him toward the next amazing painting, “my tears should tell you everything you need to know.”

His smile lights up the room.

“I love them,” I say. “Every single one of them.”

“Let’s get out of here,” he says.

“Already? I didn’t get to see them all.”

“I’ll give you your own private tour this weekend.” He leans in, whispering in my ear. “Right now, I need to be alone with you in that dress.”

Check please.

On the drive to his loft, he has his hand on my bare leg. His fingers slide up my skirt until his hand is between my legs. He rubs the crotch of my panties. I arch my back and spread my legs to make it easier for him.

I move his hand and lean across the seat, unbuttoning his slacks and pull his hard cock out of his fly and start sucking him. I’ve always been proud of my dick-sucking abilities because I basically have no gag reflex and can deep throat like a champ. But Max is so large it makes it almost impossible—almost. I manage to get the length of him down my throat. He pets my hair like a good kitty and lets out an appreciative moan.

“Damn, you’re good at that,” he says in awe.

I dip the tip of my tongue in the opening, run the soft, flat part along the sensitive spot underneath. I make sure to give every bit of it the attention it deserves before bobbing back down with my entire mouth. His body stiffens and I feel the jeep slow a bit as his foot goes lax on the pedal.

“Fuck, I’m going to come,” he says, curling his fingers in my hair and giving it a tight squeeze, almost pulling, but not quite.

I continue to suck him despite the warning. He pulls the jeep off to the side of the road. The intensity of his breathing tells me he won’t last much longer. One more bob down and he explodes in my mouth. Six long, warm ropes of cum hit the back of my throat and I swallow it down, every salty, silky drop. He’s out of breath and it takes him a moment to recover.

Chest heaving, he wipes sweat from his brow and looks at me. He lets out a low chuckle and says, “That was one gold metal blowjob.”

I give him the same kind of cocky smile I’m used to him giving me. “Thank you.”

“Shit,” he says still trying to catch his breath. “Maybe you should drive. My legs are shaking.”

We switch places. I like being behind the wheel. I don’t know why, but there’s a sense of pride knowing that he was too weak in the knees to drive. We get back on the road and head toward his loft. Once we get there, we head up the stairs. His hand rests at the small of my back as we walk, slowly moving down until he’s cupping my ass. When we’re inside, and the door swings shut behind us, he leads me to his room and lifts the back of my dress up and yanks my panties down quicker than I thought was humanly possible. He bends me over the side of his bed. I pull in a surprised breath when his tongue plunges into me from behind.

“Damn, did you already come?” he asks between licks. “You’re so wet.”

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