“Let’s give this mattress a good send off, yeah?” Jae suggests.
“The best send off it could ever imagine,” I agree, tugging at his belt loops.
As we undress one another, I am reminded how much physical attention Jae pays to me. There’s always a hand holding mine, or a hand on the small of my back, guiding me through the subway or the grocery store. There’s never a moment when we’re together that he’s not near, reminding me how much he needs me as I need him.
He is eternally anticipating my needs.
“Let me make you come,” Jae whispers. I can hear the hunger in his voice. I lay back on the bed, and he kneels on the floor. He anticipates correctly when he pushes my knees open to kiss down to my thighs and between my legs.
The warmth of his tongue makes my eyes roll back into my head and a groan escapes from my mouth. From a good morning text message to a glass of iced tea to the right kind of tongue flick in bed, he knows me well.
He is never greedy or selfish. He is never impatient or rude. Or, when he is, he is only in the best way. I love him, I love him,I love him. And as we move together, I tell him. I pant above his head, my hands wrapped around his shoulders, cradling the back of his head. His bare chest and back is a sight to behold, his tattoos wrapping around the sides of his chest and shoulders.
“I love you back, Riley,” comes his breathless response.
Each movement of his tongue sets off tiny wildfires inside me. The more he licks, the faster I unravel. “Mostly, I love how you make me come so quickly,” I blurt out and laugh in his ear, maybe a little too loud. He makes me come faster than I ever have before. It only takes a good minute.
Jae’s laugh is a literalha-ha.
“You’re funny,” he coos, climbing out from under me and leaning back on his knees while I prop myself up on my elbows. He wipes my wetness from his mouth before climbing above me to kiss my lips.
He walks around the side of the bed and makes himself comfortable with his back against the wooden headboard and pulls my back to his chest. I can feel the heat radiating off his body like he is the sun, and I can feel him growing harder the more I lean into his pull.
I feel no pressure to initiate or to continue, but after he treats me so well, all I want to do is return the favor. It’s always like this. He takes care of me first, then him. As I turn to face him, he’s massaging my shoulders, my back, my hips. My bones have never felt so good.
“What do you want, Jae?” I ask him in a low whisper.
“Anything you’ll give me.”
I rest on my knees as I hover over him, ready to take him in. He holds my hips steady while I slide over his length, a low groan emitting from somewhere deep in his throat. Thank goodness I started birth control last month. I rock and buck my hips, and when Jae’s eyes flutter closed, I know I’ve done my job well.
By the time we finish, blue hour is just taking hold, and Jae’s face is more lit by moonlight than by sunshine. He’s cradling me in his arms one second and hauling me up the next.
“Paint me something.”
“Now?”
“Yes.” Jae pauses for a moment and bats his long eyelashes that no man truly ever deserves to have. “For me?”
With a playful groan, I pull on my panties and T before we make our way through the construction zone that is Jae’s apartment. The place was almost sterile when he moved in, but as more life flows into it, it’s becoming something to appreciate. Jae follows me closely through the apartment to the brand-new studio.
Jae pulls a small set of acrylic paints and brushes out from under the newly installed sink, and hands me a small 8x10 canvas. I sit cross legged, using the floor as my easel.
“What should I paint?” I ask him, as he sits attentively across from me.
“Anything you want.”
“That’s always your answer,” I say snarkily, recalling how he said that not long ago—in a far different context.
I ponder for a moment. What does my heart want to paint? My heart is bursting with a thousand colors, but I only have a meager ten to choose from. I opt for the bright orange. If I am a cool blue, Jae is a bright orange. His light is never ending, never ceasing. Everything about him screams light and life.
I squeeze a bit of orange, a bit of brown and a bit of green onto my canvas, using it as a mixing palette in a pinch. With the deeper orange, I paint the petals of a tiger lily, and another and another. With a flick of my wrist, they begin to take form. I slough on the green, mixing it with brown to form the stem.
“How’d you do that so fast?” Jae asks me, fascinated as I turn the canvas towards him, a single orange lily staring back at him.
“Lots of practice,” I tell him, scootching closer, to be cradled in his arms. “I’ll teach you one day.”
“Promise?” He rests his head on top of mine.
