His Charming Painter (bxb)
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- Parts 15
Miloslav, 20 years old and a passionate painter enjoys throwing galas because they help him raise money and sponsors for his biggest dream: a trip around the world. He is part Italian and part Russian who loves talking to people and, if he likes them, takes them to his studio to make sketches while listening to classical or pop music. He loves sweets, jewelry and money more than anything else, and when he gets his offer, he throws all his rational thoughts overboard and agrees.
Nikolaj, 27 years old, tall and leader of one of the largest mafia regimes, so far his world consisted of bloodbaths, murderers and loneliness.
'When I saw these paintings, I was sure that I would have to pay this artist a large sum of money to come to Russia and fill my house with his magnificent paintings. But when I saw him, I knew that I would kidnap him one way or another, whether he wanted it or not.' He has something that drives me crazy, trying to brand him as mine and keep him by my side. My angel, my temptation, my kitten...
What happens when one of the most famous artists hosts a gala and his paintings attract the attention of a feared mafia boss? And what happens when he makes him an unbeatable offer and draws him into a world of murder, dark tenderness and domination...
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He strokes himself with his eyes closed, and there he is-laid out in front of him, thighs parted, skin slick with desire. He imagines his hand sliding up that throat, feeling the shiver rise under his palm before tightening just enough to draw a gasp. His mouth would follow-hungry-down that taut chest, licking, biting, until a rough moan spills out. He knows how that body would respond: the way the hips would lift, aching for more, when his tongue moves lower, so much lower, tasting that salty, trembling skin. And those eyes... those 𝒇𝒖𝒄𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 eyes drowning in pleasure, staring back at him with that kind of yielding that would drag a growl from his chest. He sinks deeper into it-deeper into the vision-imagining his fingers there, buried to the knuckles, while the other writhes beneath him, lips swollen from begging too long.
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