Page 97 of Tailored for You

“Take all the time you need,” Enzo said. “Now, how do you want me to sit?”

He plopped down on the chair, legs spread, one hand on the armrest, the other hanging lazily off his thigh, barely covering himself. “Like this?”

I swallowed; my throat felt like sandpaper. I’d taken figure drawing classes before, and more than once, the people were barely dressed.

I’d had the chance to see Enzo naked plenty of times by now. It was almost like he was allergic to clothes when we were in the confines of our room.

This was different. It was intimate, with only the two of us and the summer breeze flowing in. I pushed out every thought that wasn’t drawing or professionalism, squared my shoulders, and steadied my hands.

Analyzing him, I said, “Lean more to the left.” I nodded when I liked the way his position revealed more of the tattoos I’d been obsessing over. “Unflex your hand and let it hang naturally.”

I slipped into my drawing zone, put pencil to paper, and started.

Time passed, how much, I couldn’t say. The lines flowed, shaping Enzo. He watched me, quiet and intent. In any other scenario, I might have hidden, shy and unused to that kind of attention, but right now, I was in my element. Nothing felt more natural than drawing and creating, regardless of who was watching me.

I made a disgruntled noise, erasing a line that I hated with passion. Starting over again, I bent close to the paper, satisfied with the next try.

Enzo chuckled, keeping his voice low. He did that every so often, but I didn’t bother asking him what amused him.

I was too focused to care.

Glancing up, I did a double-take. Enzo was fisting himself, the piercing glinting at me as his hand went up and down, slowly jerking his cock.

“Keep going,” he said. “Ignore me. I can wait.”

I bit my lip, gripping my pencil hard. The sight of him made my mouth water.

His abs flexed, drawing my eye upward to the gladiator armor that traveled up his right arm to his shoulder. Each leg was tattooed with a war scene, Greek Gods Ares and Athena hovering over each. On his left side, fabric twisted upward, tying into the warrior armor on his right— all of it unmistakably Greek.

I wanted to drag my fingers across his body. To be beneath him as he slowly snapped his hips, wringing every bit of pleasure from my body.

Trying to keep focus, I turned my attention away from his abs and cock.

“I thought you were Italian, but this is Greek.” I pointed at his arm.

“Yes, but my mother was half Greek. She’s from Lampedusa, which is an Italian island, but many Greeks moved there for one reason or another,” he said, rubbing his arm. I nodded, noting to investigate that area more when I had the chance.

I looked at his face. His eyes darkened, filled with lust. I adjusted my position, squeezing my thighs together.

This felt like a game of cat and mouse. Who was what, I wasn’t sure.

I wanted to know more about his tattoos. About how he grew up. Questions about living in Sicily rose, but I tabled those for another time.

“How long did it take to get all that done?” I asked, taking a break to analyze his body once more.

I drew the corded muscles of his arms, memorizing the way his biceps flexed.

We could do this every day, Enzo laying himself bare as I took my time, drawing every inch of him until it was perfect, and it still wouldn’t be enough.

“Years. Started at seventeen, with my back, and finished around twenty-five, right before I moved here,” he said. “How’s the drawing?” He leaned forward, like he could catch a glimpse from where he sat on the other side of the room.

I closed the book. Taking my time, I dragged my eyes up his body, lingering on his cock. A shiver raced down my spine. I wanted to be bold, walk over and climb atop him.

“It’s coming along. I don’t hate it,” I said, as I watched him drag his thumb across his Prince Albert piercing. It was leaking, a white bead of precum forming at the top that Enzo expertly wiped with his thumb. “Your tattoos are a challenge to get right.”

I stood up, placed my notebook on the couch, and walked over to him.

Enzo spread his legs, making room for me as I knelt.