June pulled against the bed, forcing herself onto her stomach, both thighs aching from what these women had done to her.I was about to come. She watched the way Sette climbed over her again, powerful and intent.
“You hear me? The only thing coming out of your mouth is how much you want me.” Sette gripped June’s hair, strength coiled in every movement. “I’m the only woman who matters right now. You will damn well make me feel like it.”
June flashed her a look of utter adoration.Yes, yes, do it.Her aches and tremors were all for Sette. Everything running down her skin begged Sette to have her fill. For fuck’s sake, she wanted both women.
“Yes!” Tingles shot through her as Sette smacked her ass. “Give it to me!”
Sette asked her who she wanted the most.You.She asked her what the key to pleasure and pain was.You. She asked her what she would ask for if she could ask for anything in the world.You, you, you.Who else existed in the world?Only you.What was the key to happiness?You, Sette, you.Most of all, what did she want?
“Fuck me!” June cried. “If you don’t fuck me, I’ll die!”
When Sette delivered, she truly, unconditionally delivered. Not just in June’s core, but in her whole damn body… mind… heart… her fucking soul couldn’t remain untouched, no matter how much June tried to guard it.
Lovers had taken her hard and roughly before. They had pushed her body to limits she rarely let them do, for if she didn’t have her body functioning in top form, then what good was she at her job? Yet to have Sette treat her as if she were both nothingand everything at the same time? That was a new one. Never before had someone done this to her… and meant it.
June couldn’t say if she ever orgasmed. Sure, she orgasmed, but it wasn’t quite the same as climaxing. There was no time, no chance for that. Every movement of Sette’s body was mostly meant for her. June would take it, and she would like it, but she didn’t even have a say in when Sette finished. Normally, she controlled a good bit of that power. She knew how to use her muscles and rhythm to bring a lover along with her. She did it to both Sette and Miquela all the time… carefully calculating when they could reach that moment together, because there was nothing better than that.
Sette was above and beyond that realm of plausibility. She was using everything she had to undo both of their worlds.
When she finally did succumb to the power June still held over her, it was with June completely slammed against her bed, body trembling and awaiting whatever Sette gave her.
All she knew was that when Sette rode her ass, hand clutching her shoulders like she rode the prized mare at the fair, it had never felt so right. Especially when Sette climaxed on her, sharing heat, passion, and the kind of wetness that announced she wasdonewith this.
Sette collapsed on top of her, hands splayed next to June’s and hot breath beating against the back of her neck. Exhausted, June slowly eased her hips to the bed, disconnecting their bodies for the first time in what felt like forever.
“Holy shit,” Sette groaned, thumb brushing over where her pussy had been only a moment before. “I did that.” Her hand lingered on June’s ass. “We did that.”
She pulled away, grunting and wrestling to put herself back together. What are you doing? You should get over here and rest with me. Did June want to cuddle? She really was losing her mind.
Sette sat back on her stool, eyes darting between the mess she left on the bed and the blank canvas she put back on its easel.
“Don’t move. I’m painting this.”
Like June could move. “Make sure you capture my good side,” she panted, too sore to move a single muscle. “That would be the side with your pussy all over it, by the way.”
She closed her eyes to the tune of Sette’s pencil brushing against the canvas.
June wasn’t about to unpack the mind of an artist, but she was glad to have it in her life.
Chapter 5
Sette
“Thought I might find you here.”
Zara sat beside Sette on the bench, facing a Rembrandt. The city’s art gallery was not the biggest in the country, but it always valued quality over quantity. The paintings and other works of art that came through on rotation both inspired and quieted Sette’s artistic side. She hadn’t been there lately. Too consumed with thoughts of her blessed muse.
Her friend, on the other hand, didn’t care for galleries much. “You look like some shithead broke your heart.”
Sette snuffed her laughter. Legs crossed, hands buckled around knees, she considered the Rembrandt in front of her – had even put on her wire-framed glasses to get a better look at it.I’ve always admired his darker colors and the use of shadow. Using light and shadow was lost on a lot of today’s artists. Sette wouldn’t say she was the best at it either, preferring to light up the world with golden, bright colors, but she appreciatedthe complexions of the models and the stout demeanors they possessed. Her favorite painting,Danaë, was hung up as well. A pre-vandalism print, to be sure.
“You know,” she said, gesturing toDanaë. “I was able to see that before, not long after it was restored. I was a little kid, but my parents decided to do the Trans-Siberian railroad one summer and took me along with them.”
“I vaguely remember you telling me about that before.”
Sette nodded.Great test of a child’s patience.“We stopped in St. Petersburg for a while. It was one of my first real exposures to art. I remember my parents arguing whether or not it was appropriate for me to see nude models, even in paintings. My mother wanted me to be so sheltered, but my father said it was good to be exposed to bodies in their natural forms. Don’t you think that woman looks pretty natural?”
Zara squinted. “She is definitely naked.”
