Degas. Manet. Cézanne. And, of course, Monet. I sat down beside her, leaning back against the cushion, full of content.“I like your work better,”...she murmured, blushing softly.I snorted. “You’re biased. But thank you.”Beaming, she leaned back with me, her head resting lightly against my shoulder.“Take me out to the spring today.”“Maybe.”“Take me or I’ll go by myself.”“You’ll get lost. Fine then. You’re in charge of lunch.”“Okay.”An hour later we were on the road, Summer with her tablet, wearing. I admire his handiwork. He really is a fine specimen of a man. I lick my lips, remembering a moment ago, my lips were wrapped around his excited shaft. Watching him inch closer, my arousal rises from the depths.“Now, I want to be buried inside you,” he murmurs, while stroking himself against my clit. I stare down at him, overwhelmed.He carries me further into the bed till I am fully on the bed and my legs are held up and resting on his chest.“I’m going in now. Like this…” he breathes and very. More

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