“I’m feeling creative,” she says, unscrewing the cap from one of the jars of paint.
I arch a brow, but watch without resistance as she dips the brush into the black acrylic then brings the soft bristles up to my bare chest. Her little hum as she paints a large circle around my pectoral makes my cock go hard. When she leans in and traces a tighter circle around my nipple with her tongue, the low, carnal growl that rumbles in my chest is as deep as the thunder rolling outside.
I take the brush out of her loose grasp and paint a small heart around one of her perfect nipples. “Exactly how creative are you feeling, Ms. Laurent?”
“Extremely.”
I grunt, hunger in the sound. “That’s a dangerous thing to say. I might just decide to test your limits.”
She gives me a saucy smile. “I’m not sure I have any limits with you.”
With nimble fingers, she unfastens my jeans and sweeps them over my hips along with my boxer briefs. My cock springs loose, jutting upward like a spear. Aching for her attention.
She doesn’t disappoint.
Pushing me down onto the stool behind my easel, she removes my pants then sinks to her knees in front of me. She teases my erection with a flick of her tongue, wrenching a desperate moan out of me. Then her hands cup my shaft like an offering before she takes the head of me into her hot, wet mouth.
Ah, Christ. I’m on the razor’s edge of exploding as she runs her tongue and fingers all over it. My blood races, need lashing me at the mere idea of taking Melanie any way I can imagine.
I refuse to picture introducing her to any of the private kink clubs I used to frequent around the city, because fuck if I would even consider sharing her with anyone. I was done with that life even before I met her; now, she’s the only thing I crave. Still, my mind runs wild with endless erotic possibilities for us to explore together, all the countless ways I want to make her come.
I let my head fall back on a groan as she takes me deep into her mouth, then draws back on a slow, torturous slide up my length. The wet slurping sound as my engorged head slips out of her mouth wrenches a hard hiss through my gritted teeth.
“Feeling inspired, Mr. Rush?”
I drop my chin and open my eyes to find her gazing at me in wicked delight. “Fuck yes, I’m feeling inspired. And about a hundred other things.”
“Good.” She licks her lips, but instead of taking my cock for another spin inside the heat of her gorgeous mouth, she moves away from me. She stands up between my parted thighs while I gape at her in bewilderment, every fiber of my being coiled with the need for more of her.
She hands me the paintbrush we used on each other a moment ago.
I frown. “What’s this?”
“You can have me any way you like,” she says, leaning close, her pretty breasts not even an inch away from my face. “After you fill that empty canvas in front of you.”
I reach for her and she dances backward. I scowl, my balls in a knot and my erection setting off a blaze of raw need in my veins.
Grabbing a clean paintbrush from the collection on the table, she walks across the studio to the overstuffed chair facing me. Challenge glitters in her stormy eyes as she brings one foot up onto the cushion, her other leg spread at just the right angle to give me a perfect view of her pussy. The pink folds are slick and swollen, ripe for my taking.
But it’s clear she’s not going to let me.
Not until I put some paint on my damned canvas.
At first, all I can do is stare, dumbfounded and frustrated. My cock stands as tall as a flagpole, my chest heaving with every raw beat. I’ve never painted with a hard-on before. No matter how erotic or sexual my art is, I’ve always approached it with pure objectivity, saving my emotion for the result on the canvas.
With Melanie, it’s impossible to separate how I feel for her—how intensely I want her.
To say she inspires me is more than understatement. I’m obsessed. She consumes me, and has from the start.
Now, she owns me in ways I never dreamed were possible.
Tapping the bristles of the paintbrush against her parted lips, she smiles at me while I drink in every nuance of her beauty and light.
“You can begin anytime, Mr. Rush.” Her eyes locked on mine, she slides the paintbrush over her chin and down between her breasts on a slow path toward her parted thighs. When the long bristles reach the seam of her sex and begin to play in her wetness, I feel it like a spur to my sides.
“Holy Christ,” I utter, my vision hazing over with lust.
I stab my brush into the open paint pot, then bring it to the empty canvas. There’s no need to sketch anything first. My hand moves as if it’s possessed.
The image comes to life in what seems like seconds, and while it’s only black strokes and far from finished, I’ll be damned if it isn’t one of the best things I’ve produced in years.
Possibly ever.
“Are you going to show me?” Melanie asks, starting to get up from the chair.
“Later.” I toss down the paintbrush and stalk toward her. “First, I mean to claim my reward.”
27
MELANIE
It’s mid-afternoon, the rains long cleared, when Jared and I touch ground again at the small airport in Queens.
Our day at the beach house was so incredible it feels like a dream, one I never want to wake up from. Seeing Jared at work in his studio, being part of it with him, was a gift all
