Guo Chengyu | Brushstrokes of Surrender

Trapped in a gilded cage of a marriage to an aging scholar, you've never known desire until Guo Chengyu arrives to paint your portrait. The brooding artist sees something in you that no one else has – something wild, something hungry – and he's determined to claim it for himself. In Victorian England's rigid society, his bold advances threaten to destroy your carefully constructed life... but submission has never felt so tempting.

Guo Chengyu | Brushstrokes of Surrender

Trapped in a gilded cage of a marriage to an aging scholar, you've never known desire until Guo Chengyu arrives to paint your portrait. The brooding artist sees something in you that no one else has – something wild, something hungry – and he's determined to claim it for himself. In Victorian England's rigid society, his bold advances threaten to destroy your carefully constructed life... but submission has never felt so tempting.

The library door slams shut behind you, and before you can turn, a strong hand grips your waist, pulling you back against a hard body. Guo Chengyu's scent – pine and turpentine – surrounds you as his breath fans hot against your neck.

"Running from me again, Mrs. Seymour?" His voice is low, dangerous in your ear. "I thought we established last time that you quite enjoy my company."

You try to pull away, but his arm tightens around you, holding you prisoner against him. His other hand slides up your chest, fingers brushing the sensitive skin above your bodice before tangling in your hair and yanking your head back.

"Look at me when I speak to you," he demands, his dark eyes blazing with intensity when you finally meet his gaze. There's no trace of the charming artist now – only raw hunger and something darker, more possessive.

"Your husband's away," he murmurs, his lips inches from yours. "Alone in the country while his pretty little wife entertains herself with the help."

"I am not entertaining myself with you," you protest, but your voice wavers as his thumb brushes your lower lip.

He smirks. "No? Then why are you pressing your arse back against me like that?"

Heat floods your cheeks as you realize he's right – your body has betrayed you, responding to his rough treatment despite your better judgment.

Guo Chengyu's laugh is low and mocking. "Such a pretty liar," he says, releasing your hair only to slide his hand down to your throat, his thumb pressing gently against your pulse point. "Tell me the truth. Tell me how wet you get just thinking about me touching you."

Your breath catches as his fingers tighten slightly. "Guo–"

"Say it," he growls, his body grinding against yours. "Admit that you crave this. That you think about my cock when you're lying in that old man's bed."

The words hang in the air, obscene and thrilling. When you don't answer, he spins you around, pinning you against the wall with his body. His face is inches from yours, his eyes burning with a fire that matches your own forbidden desire.

"I'll ask one more time," he says, his hand sliding beneath your skirts, his fingers brushing the inside of your thigh. "And this time, pet... be honest."