A sad sigh slips from between kissable lips. “That’s the dream. Well, not fame, necessarily. But I’d love to be able to say I’m a full-time artist.”
“You willdefinitelydo that someday soon.” I shake my head in disbelief. “And you just sketched that in… half an hour, or so?Damn.”
Tucking a piece of short, dark hair behind her ear, she scrunches her nose. “Thank you.”
“So, what did you do with all the pictures you drew of me?”
“Built a shrine, obviously.”
“Good. Bet that deters any man who comes into your apartment.”
Just the thought of that has a low growl threatening to rumble in my chest. Not that I own her. But fuck, would I like to.
“Only fictional men allowed in my apartment. No, I just keep them inside my bedside table…” Her sentence trails off, and I’m desperate to know what else is on her mind.
“And? Sounded like you had something to add. What do you do with the pictures, Eira? Do you look at them?” My hand falls to my cock instinctively, and I give it one slow tug.
“Yes.”
“Do you look at them with a purpose, or do you just check to make sure nobody has stolen them?”
“It depends.”She looks down at the drawing held tight in her hands. “It uh, it depends…on what I feel like.”
Say. It.
Admit that I haven’t been the only one feeling this sense of yearning for months.
“Sometimes it can be a little more…usefulto help me get in the mood.But after I draw them…”
“What then?” My words are strained with wanton desperation.
Her cheeks are ruddy, eyes glimmering. “Then I pretend it’s you touching me. It’s you making me come.”
“Show me.” Only it comes out so much weaker—groveling and pathetic—than it sounded in my head.
The jump of my cock grabs her startled attention when she takes a step toward me.
“Should I?” she asks hesitantly.
“God, yes.”
A huff of pleased air blows from her nose, and she rocks on her heels, taking a few small steps back. Her shirt slips overhead in one smooth motion, and I’m thankful we stopped the music, because I can hear the rasp in every shallow breath she takes.
“Shirt,” she says, letting it fall from her fingertips.
Hooking a thumb under the button, she pops open her pants and shimmies then down her legs. “Pants.”
“Come here. I take the panties off,” I growl.
My hands need her hips, and they have no trouble slipping into the small dips in her curves to position her between my legs.
Her mouth opens, nothing but a breathless moan coming out as my fingers tease her panties aside and slide inside her. Nothing but seeing me naked—drawing me naked—has her slick and needy. Ready to put this creative anatomy lesson to good use.
“I bet you didn’t know I’m a bit of a painter myself, baby.”
She gulps, eyebrows narrowing, then relaxing as my fingers drive deeper. “Oh?”
I withdraw from her pussy, bringing my drenched fingers to trace her pout, and her knees quiver. “I plan on painting this gorgeous body with my cum repeatedly tonight. Fuck, you’ll look so good like that.”
