Total pages in book: 28
Estimated words: 27128 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 136(@200wpm)___ 109(@250wpm)___ 90(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27128 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 136(@200wpm)___ 109(@250wpm)___ 90(@300wpm)
“Excuse me, mujeres hermosas. I’m out of my element.” I pivot in my hand-sewn leather loafers as Alexis cuts her eyes to me. Mierda!
She’s all of 20, usually timid, but I’ve crossed the line. While her thin mouth draws tight to the point of vanishing, I curse myself for not donning a hoodie.
I gesture to the full glass of bubbly I’ve handed another server. We both know that I won't embarrass the girl or myself as long as I don’t have a drink.
Once Alexis has had time to discuss her art, I’ll hoot and holler like a cabrón from my small Mexican hometown. Later, I’ll apologize to Alexis for drawing their attention.
Really, if I were any other hombre rallying for a woman, the affluent would peer down at me at best. Well, try too, anyways, at a clean six-foot even.
At the clank of silverware against glass, the mingling ceases. Attention shifts to one of my oldest mentors and a woman I’ve been infatuated with for the last 17 years—nearly half my life. I’m 36.
I’ve asked Imani several times if she’d give me the time of day once I have a silver hair or two. Her retort was always that she’d eat me alive. When I’ve responded, not after I’ve eaten her pussy with the same gusto, Imani would chide me for speaking to my elders with such cavalier words.
Fucking classic beauty. But the tiny crush I have on Imani fades as the facet of my next painting stalks forward. The Nubian Princess was not a woman. Neither was Santa Maria Joaquin. All of them were a compilation of perfection.
One woman’s lips.
Another’s curvaceous ass.
I put them all together and created what is now standing across the room.
Chapter 3
Antonio
“Essence...” I whisper, allowing the name to roll off my tongue. I shake my head to rouse myself from a dream of having the gallery owner sit for me. I’m urged to draw closer to her as Imani concludes her introductions.
“Imani, your kind words about my gallery and my past mean the world to me,” Essence says, then turns to the crowd to thank us all for coming. My new muse’s soft tone slides like velvet over my hardened dick. Essence’s tongue darts over red-wine-colored lips that have quickly become my addiction. Sí. A little more, bonita. Lick all the crimson paint off. A nude mouth pairs well with my anticipation of viewing the rest of her in the same regard. I shift a few paces to the left to readjust my tailored slacks. Dazed, I don't return to reality until the subdued, familiar voice brings my attention.
“Last but not least,” Essence places Alexis at her side as the younger Latina thanks her profusely.
Is Alexis last to discuss her pieces? How long have I daydreamed of having my new muse naked, at my mercy, with her body as a more than worthy canvas?
Guilt tightens my jaw while I listen to Alexis’ motivation for her living art pieces that incorporate plants into images.
Applause explodes as I stroll toward the section of A Touch of Essence I swore to avoid until this precise moment. Feels like I'm playing fútbol, leaving a trail of women sputtering in my wake and scrambling for my attention.
Except, one is hot in pursuit.
The wrong mujer. Poppy Richmond advances on me, but I pretend not to hear her while strolling toward Essence. My inspiration’s eyes light up at the sight of me. With a smile, I extend a hand to her.
At the last moment, her soft, manicured fingers shift past my outreached attempt. “Miss Richmond, you arrived.”
Aye! Really?
“Essence, put that hand away. We’re more than acquaintances now.” Poppy’s excessive laughter rings through the entire loft.
For reasons beyond my comprehension, the beauty who flouted me perks a brow. At the same time, Poppy drops chaste kisses on both Essence’s cheeks. If we're counting, my gander has tasted Essence’s lips a thousand times over. Alexis hides a small smile, aware I’m shocked by Essence’s rejection.
“Poppy, may I introduce you to Alexis Venegas?” Essence wraps an arm around the girl, bringing her forward.
“I’m here for Manny and you, Ms. Essence Tavers.” Poppy imitates Essence’s eagerness. Except, not the part of avoiding me like her amiga. Oh no, Poppy is disregarding Alexis.
“Well, that’s unfortunate, Poppy. I’m unable to work with Mr. Silva.” Essence clears her throat. “I'm a devout feminist. My gallery stands on said brand. Women only.”
Our eyes connect. Mine alight with appreciation, as if to say, I’m a feminist too. Allow me to worship you...
Poppy scoffs, “I would like to invest, Essence. Surely you will...”
While planting a hand on Alexis’ shoulder, Essence snorts, “Alexis and the others are the future of art. A worthy investment indeed.”
The laughter bubbling up in Poppy’s throat breaks into a tiny croak. “Well, I thought more of your place than soggy canapés...”