How fucked up is that?
I squeeze my eyes shut. And there they are—Mimi’s piercing green eyes, staring straight at me.
They’re the reason behind my smiles.
Also… the reason I can’t sleep.
Guilt and joy—what a fucking combo.
Christ.
This silence is making me crazy.
And now I’m thinking abouther—again.I cover my ears, shove my phone under the pillow, and flip onto my stomach.
But it’s no use.
The memories are already flooding in…
“I should leave,”Mimi tells me.
“No, don’t.” I reach for her dainty wrist and drag her back into the private confines of her rented art studio. It’s bare, but beautiful, just like her.
An awkward silence settles between us as I begin to remove my clothes. Those mismatched green eyes slide down my bare legs along with my pants as they fall to the floor. My boxer briefs follow. Bringing my hand to my balls, I give them a gentle tug, my dick thickening just a little bit.
Starry-eyed, she reaches back and locks the door.
A smug smile lifts from my lips as I stand confidently before her, in all my naked glory.
“Stop teasing me,” she smirks, rolling her pretty eyes. “You’re trying to disturb my creative energy,” she complains, placing her hands on my shoulders and positioning me just the way she needs me. “It’s not going to work, Gabriel. You’ll have to try harder.”
“Oh… you want me harder? I can do harder,” I joke.
Mimi giggles, shaking out her luscious, thick hair. She knows I’m fucking with her. She also knows I’m gay and happily married. I commissioned her to do a nude sketch of me. One I planned on giving to Elijah for his birthday.
Ignoring my ribbing like the professional she is, she walks over to her desk and grabs her sketch pad and pencil. Nudes are nothing new to her. Like me, she’s sketched them before.
It’s actually how we met. Years ago. We’d both attended an art event, sketching an acclaimed nude model, when she approached me afterward, sharing her drawing with me. Her talent far exceeded her young age of eighteen. To say I was impressed was an understatement. I was in awe. Add in her beauty with that mind-blowing talent—I swear, I almost turned straight that day.
Almost.
Her proposition took me by total surprise.
And so did my actions.
“Stop moving.” She snickers. Her focus is on my dick, and her talented hand is frantically pushing the pencil across her sketchbook, aggressively scratching against the smooth surface of the paper. She’s in a zone, and I stare back at her in admiration. It’s unreal how much she reminds me of myself. Her artwork is dirty… mine is dirtier.
“Come oon, Gabriel,” she whines, as my dick suddenly decides to become uncooperative and stretches to its full length.
“Oh fuck.” I laugh, not at all embarrassed by this slight mishap. Nothing embarrasses me. Especially not that.
“I’ll move on to your legs as you get that under control.”
“Such the professional,” I compliment, trying my hardest to stand still with a full-on boner.
“Should I call your husband?” she teases, lifting a perfectly shaped brow. Her lips quiver as she tries to hold back a smile.
And then… she cries.
