Chapter 8
CHAPTER 8
SPENCER
T hursday comes too soon. Way too soon. All my mental preparation to restore the walls around myself prove to be fruitless. Rio flashed one smile my way and I melted on the spot.
The real shock was when Zane showed up with Rio and coffee, no less. My favorite coffee too. I asked him how he knew and his response was to shrug and simply say, “You seemed like a chocolate kind of woman.”
Fair enough, plenty of people like chocolate. But he even got the extra whip cream and oat milk substitute correct.
My jaw was on the floor when Zane left and said he would be back later.
Why is he coming back?
Rio read my expression easily and answered my internal question. “He has to pick me up. How do you expect me to get home? Walk all the way to the Bronx?”
“There’s a subway for a reason.”
“Maybe he just needed an excuse to come back.” And then came the wink that incinerated my panties. A wink delivered while he was trying to hint at…what? That his friend wanted to see me? Then why is he flirting with me too?
Right then and there I decided that whatever game they were playing, I would have no part in it. I would not come between two friends. I’m not that kind of woman.
I did another demo for Rio to refresh his memory and now he’s ready to go.
“You may want to start off with a piece of clay the size of your fist.”
Quirking an eyebrow in my direction Rio looks at me as if I just suggested he streak down Madison Ave. However, something tells me he would do that anyway.
“I think I can handle a bit more than that tiny little thing.”
Hayes chuckles behind me but it’s Alma who responds. “You should probably listen to the expert, honey. She’s not being mean. She’s trying to keep your dignity intact.”
Rio comically narrows his gaze and adds more clay. After wedging the clay and cleaning up after himself, thank God he’s not a slob, he’s ready at the wheel. Much as I anticipated, after ten minutes of trying to center his clay, he huffs out a frustrated breath.
“Everything okay?” I ask from the wheel next to him. I’m making soup bowls because I don’t know what else to do with my time. My creative brain has left me. At this rate, my exhibit will include paper airplanes and stick figures.
“It’s still off.” Rio gives the clay a look that promises death if it doesn’t fall in line and do what he wants.
I cover my mouth to hide my giggle, but Rio must have super hearing because his focus whips my way with a mock glare. “Is my distress funny, Mama?”
“You’re hardly a damsel in distress.”
“Are you sure about that?” Rio puts the back of his hand to his forehead in a fainting gesture and raises the pitch of his voice to a level I did not think possible for a man like him. “Oh, Knight Spencer. I have fallen and can't get up.”
“Uhhh that’s the Life Alert commercial.”
Snapping out of character he says, “The sentiment is the same.” Then, just as quickly, he returns to his fair maiden persona. “What is a poor pottery student to do? Alone and stranded.”
Giving into the silliness, I laugh at his antics. “Fear not, damsel. Brave Knight Spencer is here.” The room erupts with applause and laughter from our audience.
“ Ay dios mío . I was running out of lines.”
“I’m sure your creativity would have rescued you there.”
I scoot my stool closer to his and hold my finger to the spinning mound of clay. When my finger bumps back and forth, I give Rio a few pointers and encourage him to try again.
He finally gets the clay centered and flashes me a dizzying smile. “I told you I could handle more than a small bit of clay.”
“Yeah, yeah. Whatever you say.” I motion to move back to my own wheel when I feel a cold finger sweep across my cheek. Raising my hand to my face, I find that Rio has painted my skin with wet clay. “Did you just…”
I’m cut off when he swipes another finger down my nose. Shocked, I sit there with my mouth open. His mischievous smile widens, showing off his perfectly straight teeth and a single dimple on his right cheek.
His smile, just like his laugh, is infectious. I can’t stop myself from smiling back and returning his spirited gesture with my own. “You’re dead, Casanova.”
Dragging my hand against my own clay, I place my palm on the side of his face making a mess of him.
“You asked for it now, Mama.” He lunges for me with clay-caked hands, wrapping his arms around me, and pulling me towards him. I let out a squeal and brace my hands against his solid chest as he sits me on his lap with my legs to the side.
“No, no! I take it back! I take it back!”
“Too late.” His hands dive into my hair and spread the mess all through my strands and pull my bun from the tie.
“Don’t forget that payback’s a bitch.” I dip both hands in his dirty clay water and run them over his dark chopped hair and over his ears.
After my attack, chaos ensues. We sling wet clay and muddy water at each other until I’m laughing so hard I can’t breathe.
Cheers for both of us ring out in the studio. I wouldn’t be surprised if they’re placing bets. Alma loves a friendly gamble and Paul always appeases her which makes Hayes’ FOMO kick in and he ends up participating.
“Show her who's boss!”
“Don’t let him beat you!”
Somehow, I end up straddling Rio’s lap and he wraps one hand around both of my wrists securing them to his chest. His other hand brings a huge blob of wet clay to the front of my throat and drags it down my chest, slightly pulling my shirt with it. His hand resting right above my cleavage.
My breathing picks up and a flush spreads across my cheeks. His warm skin pressed against mine sends a zap of energy to my clit.
“I think I saw a new painting hanging next door,” Alma says.
“Me too,” Hayes adds.
“Paul, come look with us.” Alma insists not so subtly.
There’s a scraping of stools against the concrete floor and I turn just in time to see the door to Abstract Dreams close.
Those traitors. They were supposed to stay and be the cockblock I need right now.
A gentle, yet firm touch guides my face back around and brings my attention to the tattooed man I’m practically humping. One little rock of my hips and I would be able to feel if he’s just as effected as I am.
My palms rest flat over his swiftly beating heart, but his fast heartbeat could be for a number of reasons. He just exerted a lot of energy, or he could also be upset that we’re in this situation.
Releasing my wrists, his hands grip my hips, guiding the motion as I glide my pussy over his thick hard length. I tilt my head back as a moan slips free from my lips and an ache builds in my core. One of his hands slides up to cup my breast over my shirt. His thumb finds my nipple easily and swipes back and forth over the peak.
What is this man doing to me? My pussy has been closed for business for the last three years. The only thing that’s gone near it is my hand and a few toys.
“ Tan bella .” His whisper washes over my skin and sends a shiver down my spine. His full lips find a spot free of mud on my neck and softly presses in. The touch is barely there but I feel it all over.
My hands roam from his chest down to his abs. Through his shirt I can feel each ridge and count.
An eight pack? Seriously? I thought those were fake.
Tentatively, I rock my hips on my own and this time Rio lets out a groan. “If you keep doing that, I’m going to have to lay you out on the table right there and strip you bare. My mouth will cover your sweet cunt that I know is dripping for me.”
His bold words bring me back to Earth.
What the hell am I doing?
I jump off his lap and put a good six feet between us. “Oh my God.” My stomach drops at the realization at what I was about to let him do to me. In public! In my shop.
So much for not being that woman .
“Scare that easily, Mama?” He leans back on his seat bringing his hands behind his head and crossing his ankles in front of him.
Ugh. I hate that everything he does is so fucking sexy. He’s just relaxing and my slutty pussy is ready to jump his bones.
“I shouldn’t have done that. I’m your teacher. I’m a professional. That was anything but professional.” Mortified, I cover my face with my hands.
“So? I’m pretty sure I’m older than you.”
“That’s your rebuttal?” My brows attempt to disappear in my hairline.
“I’m thirty-three.”
My jaw goes slack. He’s thirty-three? He doesn’t look anywhere near thirty-three. But, of course, it’s always men who are blessed with perfect skin and his is flawless.
“And you are?”
“Twenty-four.”
“See? I’m nine years your senior. You can rest easy now knowing you did not take advantage of me.” He gives a satisfied smile as if our age difference makes everything better, but it only makes it worse.
He’s definitely had more experienced women. I don’t know what I’m doing. I have no business throwing myself at a man like that.
He probably has a girlfriend.
Blood drains from my face at the voice of insecurity in the back of my brain. I’m not the other woman and would never go behind another woman’s back. I’m a girl’s girl.
“Oh shit. You have a girlfriend, don’t you?” Not letting him answer when he sits up I continue, “You definitely have a girlfriend. I mean look at you.”
His head tilts down to scan his body as if he doesn’t already know how attractive he is.
“With abs and a face like that? You’re taken for sure. What woman wouldn’t want you? And here I am grinding on you like a bitch in heat. This is so embarrassing. Tell your girlfriend I am so sorry. I broke the girl code. My sister's club membership is going to get revoked. I’m going to have to move to Maine and change my name. I?—”
Rio’s hands on my shoulders interrupt me. “I don’t have a girlfriend. If I did, none of that would have happened. Also, you can grind on me like a bitch in heat anytime.” His smirk makes my panties flood. Again.
Refusing to let his charm get to me, I step back. “Good to know. Regardless, that should not have happened. I promise it won’t happen again.”
“I really hope it does though.”
Letting out a sigh I crane my neck to look at the ceiling. “You’re impossible.”
“Impossibly sexy?”
“Impossibly delusional.” I snap back.
Instead of responding, his gaze wanders up and down my body and I feel it as if he’s touching me everywhere he looks. His attention locks on the apex of my thighs and I realize I’m rubbing them together.
I need to pump the brakes before I tackle him to the ground and let him do what he promised.
“Anyways, I’m going to go wash the clay off.”
Before I can get to the door his hand tugs on my elbow. “I don’t think so. If I have to stay in this mess, so do you.”
I glance down at my dirty clothes and realize there’s dried clay all over my shirt on top of my breasts. “Are you serious?” My question comes out as a screech.
His eyes dip to my breasts and back up to my face. “Oh yeah, Mama. Deadly serious.” His smile this time is slightly feral as if he’s proud of his hand prints on my boobs.
“You’re on my shit list, Casanova.” I point my finger at his chest as I look up at him and hope it’s as threatening as I mean it to be.
“Casanova, huh?”
“If I have to explain it, then I’ll downgrade you to himbo.” Rio’s laugh follows me as I stalk off to my wheel to continue with the soup bowls.
I can survive eight more weeks without asking Rio to glaze my donut hole. I can survive eight more weeks without asking Rio to glaze my donut hole.
You keep telling yourself that .