Monday, December 29, 2014
In a life driven by passion, famed artist Maxfield Caswell lives in a world of brilliant color and drama, pushing his art and affairs to his emotional edge.
He’s stunning, charismatic and celebrated in the art world, but are the trappings of fame also destroying him?
For years intelligent and bright-eyed Ava Jacobs has worked diligently toward a career in the art world. Ava is swept off her feet when she meets the passionate artist.
She soon realizes, however, that he’s on a destructive path—one she doesn’t intend to join him on.
In the decadent world of patrons, art groupies, and predators, feisty and beautiful Ava knocks Max off his pedestal. A stunned Max sees something special in Ava and offers her an opportunity she can’t refuse.
As their lives and passions collide, will he realize that she alone has the power to heal him?
Can their hearts come together to create their own work of art?
“Okay,” I say to Max unsteadily as we lean into the printing press. “We start with the ink.”
I take his right hand and place it over mine, take the stick and gently stir the paint in the can. The violet swirls, and I lift the wet stick and drip it across the screen.
I try to focus but his touch and the heat from his body permeate my senses.
Next, I pick up the squeegee, and we complete the motion of dragging the paint across the printing screen. But it’s awkward with his hand on only one side of the squeegee. As I lift the screen, he steps around and removes the print and reloads silently.
When he returns, he steps directly behind me, and since he’s taller and larger than me, he curls around me and reaches everything easily.
He slides both of his hands on top of mine.
I can hardly breathe I’m so electrified. Swirl, lift, stroke…His breath is hot against my neck.
We grip the squeegee, slide, pause, drag back with more force, lift.
I close my eyes so I can focus on his scent and the feeling of his arms wrapped around me.
He pauses before he steps away to switch the paper.
When he returns, he steps even closer so that when we extend ourselves across the print, he presses against me.
I gasp. All I can focus on is his arousal pressing against me. I’ve never wanted anyone this much.
By the third pass on the printing press, I’m trembling, and when he presses against me, I press my ass back into him, imagining him inside of me.
“Ava,” he moans.
As much as I want to turn around and face him, I don’t want to stop. I don’t want this moment to end.
“Again,” he groans.
This time, as I slide the squeegee up, he lets go, slides his hands up my arms and trails them down my sides. All the while, his lower body is firmly pressed against me. I could cry it feels so good to have him touch me in ways I never thought he would. I slowly grind my ass against him. His hands move down to my hips, and his fingers grasp my curves, pulling me closer.
I’m surprised he has the focus to change the paper, but he doesn’t reach around to help me with the screen this time. Instead, his hands return to my hips as our bodies press together, and he run his hands down the sides of my thighs and back up. He slips his hands under my tank, moving up my sides, across my ribs, and just skimming the edge of my bra. My nipples harden, aching for his touch, and my breaths are quick and short.
I drop my head and moan, “Max.”
“I know, baby, I know,” he whispers, pressing his lips in my hair at the nape of my neck. He steps away again and replaces the paper quickly.
“Again, Ava, for me.” He brushes his cheek softly above my ear and presses into me a little harder.
I try to concentrate on the trail of violet left from my stroke, but as I push up, his hands part. One slides down over my jeans, between my legs, and presses firmly against my sex. I drop the squeegee and grab the edge of the table, just as his other hand snakes under my shirt and pulls my bra down to cup my naked breast.
My breath catches in my throat as I revel in every sensation.
His fingers gently tease my nipple, and he kisses the side of my neck up to my ear.
I moan as the room spins, and I try to make sense of what’s happening as I come undone. The room is hazy with the softest highlights and shadows.
I wonder if this is a dream.
Book 2, The Unveiling is up for pre-order now!
About the Author:
Ruth Clampett, daughter of legendary animation director, Bob Clampett, has spent a lifetime surrounded by art and animation. A graduate of Art Center College of Design, her careers have included graphic design, photography, VP of Design for WB Stores and teaching photography at UCLA.
She now runs her own studio as the fine art publisher for Warner Bros. where she’s had the opportunity to know and work with many of the greatest artists in the world of animation and comics.
The Work of Art Trilogy is Ruth’s third publishing endeavor, following Animate Me and Mr. 365.
She lives in Los Angeles and is heavily supervised by her teenage daughter, lovingly referred to as Snarky, who loves art and visiting museums as much as her mom.