Blake

“What’s that look?” Katherine asks as she turns to me.

“What look?”

We've barely moved after this latest romp, and I’m slowly beginning to catch my breath. I should feel spent. But oddly, I seem to still be full of life –in more ways than one.

“You’ve got that Cheshire cat smile,” she says. “You know, the one that says you’re just too pleased with yourself. Either that or you've won an obscene amount of money in the last thirty minutes. Which is it?”

I laugh, because she’s caught me. I am pleased with myself. Being with her makes me feel good, but I’m not about to tell her what I’m feeling.

Instead I look out the window and say, “Nothing. Really, it’s nothing.”

It’s easier for me to act like what just happened between us is no big deal. My typical M.O. is to have sex, lay next to the woman for exactly one minute and fifteen seconds (which I am very good at counting silently to myself), and then make my excuses and leave.

But both times with Katherine, last night, and just now, I’m not preparing my exit remarks and surprise, surprise, I’m in no hurry to get out her apartment. I’m want to show her what I brought.

“Whatever you say,” she interrupts my thoughts, “I’m not going to hold it against you. But admit it, you were thinking of something. Was it about your next appointment…after me that is?”

It’s obvious my lack of communication is making her have second thoughts about how utterly sexy and desirable she is, and that’s not what I intended. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with her and I need to stomp on this line of questioning quick.

“If you must know,” I say, trying to sound nonchalant, “I’m smiling because of you.”

There, I did it. Feelings out in the open, like a pair of perfectly ripped jeans on display in the main window at Saks Fifth Avenue.

“Me?” she asks in a way that’s devoid of any pretention, and then she reaches over and gives me a soft kiss.

“Hmm…” The woman’s got me purring, for fuck’s sakes.

I am what’s typically known as a romantic dilettante and a serial dater, but this woman has got me by the balls.

That’s why I want her to see what I’ve brought. I want her to understand what’s going on. That is if I can explain it, because I for one am baffled as shit. It’s better if I just cut to the chase.

“I’ve got something to show you,” I say, and move from the bed.

Pulling the sketch out of my shoulder bag, I hold it close as I sit back on the bed. I can tell I’ve piqued her curiosity.

“What's that?” she asks, sitting up.

“Listen, about this morning, I know I left in a hurry—”

“I’ll say you did. In fact, I was kind of surprised when I saw you at my door today. I thought your hasty exit was a way of saying, ‘see you later, bye.’

“No, that’s not it,” I say.

Katherine looks vulnerable, and a little hurt. It’s the last thing I want because I need her to understand what’s happened to me since I met her.

“You don’t have to worry about hurting my feelings. I’m a big girl. I know what I’m getting into with you.”

“It’s really not like that...I mean…awww, hell…”

How do I explain to her what I’m feeling when I don’t even know what I’m feeling? This is so completely new to me I’m at a loss for words, a rarity in my life. I need to move this thing along before it gets any more uncomfortable for us.

“Here,” I say, handing her the sketch.

I'm expecting a reaction from her, some form of expression, anything. A moan, a grunt, a sigh, but all I’m getting is silence. Ten seconds…twenty seconds…a minute…

“Say something,” I finally blurt out, with a hint of exasperation in my voice.

“I’m…I…I’m not sure what to say.”

“Well, do you like it?”

“When did you draw this, when I was sleeping?” she asks. And I can’t tell if she’s annoyed or elated because neither her voice nor her face register any emotion.

“Yes but, actually, it’s from memory. See, that’s why I didn’t wait for you to wake up. I was in the studio all morning.”

Katherine purses her lips and looks out the window and I feel as if I’m losing her. I reach out for her, putting my hand on her thigh because I want to keep this connection between us. I want Katherine, I want this, I want the painting to come to life, I want all of it. So I tell her the truth.

“You’ve sparked something inside of me that I thought was dead.”

She raises an eyebrow and stares at me.

“What?” I ask.

“This sketch…”

I can see she’s searching for what to say.

“…it’s so personal.”

For a moment I don't know how to respond.

“It's what I see,” I finally offer. "You’re a beautiful woman. And I know that's like, the oldest cliché of all time, but it's true.

“So here’s the thing,” I look into her chocolate-brown eyes and I'm momentarily lost. “I've got to have you.”

Now she laughs in earnest. “You just did, and I’m not quite ready for another go.”

Smiling, I shake my head, “No, I mean I need you to pose for me.”

Katherine gives me a concerned look. “Hello, have we not met? Let me introduce myself, I’m Katherine. I’m a writer. Not a model.”

“Look at this,” I say pointing to my sketch of her, “I did that from memory, and we both know it’s damn good. But it’s just a start.” I run my fingers through my hair.

“How can I put this? You’re a writer, and I’m sure you’ve written dozens and dozens of outlines, but those outlines aren’t a completed manuscript. Well, this drawing isn’t a painting. It’s just an outline and I want – no…I need to bring it to life. Please, you've got to sit for me while I paint you.”

 

Katherine

My lips mechanically move to the mug, and my brain only kicks in when the liquid touches my lips. I cringe. I hate lukewarm or cold coffee, but it’s the only thing within reach.

I feel his eyes on me. They caress my face, my lips, hover at my v-neck tight fitting blouse and keep going. It’s as if he is slowly undressing me from head to toe.

Not now, I tell myself, but lust is creeping through me like weeds creep through the garden. How can he do this to me?

Part of me wants to rip my own clothes off before doing the same to him. But we can’t be having sex all the time, can we?

“You don’t like it?”

Was that worry in his voice?

I smile. “Don’t be silly. I love it.”

Words, I’m an expert with words, and here I’m struggling to come up with the right ones. Maybe I should write to him.

The idea is so silly I laugh.

I catch his eyes and see he is not sure what to make of my reaction.

I put my coffee down and walk over to him. A dangerous move, I know, but I feel like reassuring him the only way I really know how.

When my lips move off his, his hands stay on my hips.

“I know I’m a writer and words should come easy to me,” I hesitate. “I just don’t know what to say.”

Something moves across his face. Hurt? Anger? Disappointment? I’m not sure.

“The way you have captured me on paper,” another hesitation as the genius in me gropes for something to say to make him feel how I feel when I look at the artwork, “No one, and I mean no one has ever looked at me like this.”

I take the picture and move away from him. It takes great effort to resist his physical charm, but I must let him know how I feel about his work before things get out of hand.

“Look at the tiniest of a hint of a dimple in my right cheek. Only someone who had looked at me really closely would be able to reproduce it.” I continue to stare at myself on the paper. For some reason, tears well up and I quickly bite my bottom lip.

Tears are the last thing Blake will want to see.

I feel him beside me again and I glance at him.

“I think I almost look beautiful the way you have captured me.” I pause again. “I look serene. You’re an amazing artist.”

My emotions tell me to stop talking and get on with kissing him and ripping his clothes off so my hands can get creative with his body.

His left hand reaches under my chin and lifts my head, so I have to look at him. His touch is so gentle. A wave of desire engulfs me.

As I struggle with my emotions, he leans in toward me and kisses me ever so lightly on the tip of my nose.

“Did you see I even captured the lonely freckle on the right side of your nose?”

His hand is stopping me from turning my head. I have to take his word for it. I had not noticed it.

“And,” Blake continues, his hand still holding my chin and his index finger caressing my cheek. “You are one of the most beautiful women I have seen.”

His words, spoken with utter sincerity, release millions of butterflies in my stomach and leave my heart galloping wildly in my chest.

“I bet you say that to all the girls,” I manage to whisper and I wonder how much longer before my legs will simply give way underneath my own weight.

Blake chortles. His other hand now cups half of my face.

“Katherine. Kath.” The way he says my name melts the last of my resistance from me. “I mean every word I just said.”

This time his lips come for my mouth. His kiss is soft.

Slowly, his tongue pushes past my lips to find mine. A groan builds deep down in my throat.

Fling. It’s a fling, I try and remind myself.

When he pulls back, I want to protest.

“Every time I look at you, inspiration washes over me in great big waves.” He points at the picture. “This is just one of a few I’ve drawn of you,” he confesses.

“I don’t know what to say.” It’s true; Katherine the author is suffering from some form of communication block. It’s almost funny.

“From the first time I saw you I knew I needed to draw you.” Blake continues.

My eyes move from the painting to Blake and back again.

Something is still stopping me from giving in. Posing nude is such a personal thing. I cannot imagine myself parading around in front of Blake without any clothes on as he is standing, fully clothed, in front of easel and canvas, paintbrush in hand.

“Since I have met you,” Blake’s words bring me back to the here and now, “I’ve felt so inspired. I’m filled with ideas. I can’t stop painting.”

I feel the heat and color rise to my cheeks.

“Katherine,” he has taken hold of my hands. “You are my inspiration; you are my muse.”

“I don’t think Dale ever said I was beautiful or pretty.” The words are out before I can stop them.

To my surprise, Blake laughs. “Dale’s an asshole and a prick who doesn’t know when he has possession of a real diamond.” Blake plants another kiss on my mouth.

“He does not deserve what he does not value. He does not deserve you.”

I’m not sure exactly what has my wall of resistance crumble, but crumble it does.

“Okay,” I say and this time I give him a little kiss on the cheek. “I will pose for you. Nude.”

Blake smiles then, his whole expression changing.

“You won’t regret it.” He promises.

“Make sure you make me look good.” I say only to say something.

Now he pulls me into his arms and whispers into my ear.

“I can’t fix perfection.”

 

Blake

Before Katherine arrived this afternoon, I put a bed into the studio and covered it with white Egyptian cotton sheets—a thousand thread count. They’re expensive and they feel damn luxurious.

My mind’s eye has been working overtime, imagining Katherine on that bed.

My muse.

She’s finally here, and now all I need is for her to lie quietly as I take care of the rest.

“I’m ready,” Katherine says, and she comes out of the dressing room.

She’s smiling but I can see the death grip she's got on the towel that’s covering her. Katherine’s nervous and I have no idea why; it’s not as if I haven’t already seen and touched every square inch of her.

“Just get comfortable,” I say as reassuringly as possible.

I need her to relax, so I pour a glass of champagne and hand it to her.

“Here.” There’s a slight tremble in her hand as she takes the glass. “Take your time, and when you’re ready, just lie on the bed.”

“Thanks.” She smiles and walks over to it. “Nice sheets.”

“You might want experience them up close. Why not have a lie down?”

“Yeah, I’m getting there,” she says, and takes a deep breath, throwing back the champagne in one swallow.

“There. Much better. What’s to be nervous about?” she says, smiling.

She drops the towel to the floor, and crawls onto the bed, lithe as a lioness. “You know me, I know you. Let’s do this.”

“Damn, you’re gorgeous.”

Katherine throws her head back and gives a throaty laugh. “Come on Blake, you’re making me self-conscious again.”

“All evidence to the contrary,” I say, because there’s nothing shy about her pose.

This is a woman who is meant to be naked. All the time.

I gotta get my mind on work. I’m here to paint. Period, I say to myself. Because right now, what I see in front of me is the perfect picture.

The bed seems to be floating in the center of the room, as the late afternoon sunlight filters in from the tall windows behind her. I like that she’s backlit. It gives the scene an almost dream-like quality.

Katherine’s back is arched, her knees are bent, and her feet are planted on the bed. She looks so damn sexy, I’m almost coming…undone.

I take a breath and say, “That pose is one-hundred percent working for me, but I’m afraid you may not be able to hold it for as long as I need you to.”

“Oh, no?” she says licking her lips, “then how about this?”

She turns her body towards me and puts her hand between her legs. I’m a little surprised at how uninhibited she is. Just a moment ago she seemed tense and fragile. Now she’s showing me a side of her I haven't seen before, and I’m definitely digging it.

But I’m torn. While it’s obvious she’s signaling an all-out invitation to take her right this minute, I have work to do.

Shit, when did I become the guy who’s too busy for sex?

I shake my head and walk toward the container holding my brushes, “Just get comfortable,” I call out, “you’ll need to stay in the pose for a while. If there are any adjustments that need to be made, I’ll let you know.”

“I could use a little adjustment right about now,” she says in hoarse whisper.

“I heard that.”

“You were meant to,” she says laughing.

She’s playing with me, but I need to concentrate. “Katherine, there’ll be time for that later on. But I need to get something down on this canvas.” My tone has taken on a mock annoyance, but she’s not buying it.

“Well, if you want to get down…” she says leaving the sentence hanging.

“Katherine…” and this time I am a touch annoyed, “the colors are waiting.”

When I turn to face her, my muse is perfectly posed, the light is where I want it, and my fingers have the creative itch. Since that itch has been missing of late, I intend to scratch it, regardless of the fact that a sexy, beautiful and obviously aroused woman—who I am immensely attracted to—is lying on a bed screaming to be messed up.

Yes, despite all that, I’m going to get down to business and paint.

I make a conscious decision to concentrate on my palette, and it calms me as I begin.

“I don’t mean to be a pain in the ass,” Katherine interrupts, “but there’s something missing.” She pouts.

“The only thing that’s missing is the absence of any paint on this canvas,” I say in an effort to just get on with it.

“Nope, I’m sure there’s something missing. We need a little something-something.”

I have no clue what this something is that she’s referring to.

“Blake, you get to have all the fun, while I just lie here.” She brushes her hand across her breast.

“I rather thought you’d enjoy lying around since you seem to do it so well,” I counter.

She gives me a ‘come hither’ look with hooded eyes and in a low voice says, “How ‘bout some music. Then I won’t be bored while you’re busy playing with your...canvas.”

And there it is again, that pout. The way those luscious lips press together sends blood from my brain to my…Damn, I need to get on with this.

“If it’s music you want, then it’s music I’ll play. What’s your pleasure?” I ask.

“Are you asking me what music I want to hear? Or are you asking me what’s my pleasure? Because those are two distinctly different questions.”

Katherine is really working me. From every angle. But I can’t let myself be dissuaded. I need to focus.

“How about a classic?” she asks.

“Fine, Beethoven, Brahms?” I ask.

“No, silly,” she’s now genuinely laughing at me. “I’m talking a classic, like Marvin Gaye’s ‘Sexual Healing,’ I love that song and I have no doubt it’s on your phone. So plug it in and play. Please.”

She’s right. It is on my playlist. I set it up and it's slow suggestive beat flows out of the speakers.

“Satisfied?”

“Not yet,” she teases.

She’s staring at me; her naked body is glorious. She’s slowly moving her hips to the beat of the music and I’m mesmerized.

Katherine is becoming increasingly difficult to ignore. I’m not that strong. I can’t help but stop and watch.

“Hey,” she says, “I thought you needed to paint. I don’t see any strokes happening. Stop gawking and work. I don’t have all day.”

There’s no doubt, she’s working me. The entire time she’s talking she continues to slowly move those hips, making it almost impossible for me to do anything else but watch. Oh, hell, blood is definitely rushing south.

“Katherine…” I reprimand, “You’re bad. Very bad." Her pout turns into a lascivious smile as I put down my brushes.

"It seems I have no choice.”

And I really don’t. I want to be inside her right this minute and these paints, well, hell, they’ll be here when we’re done.

 

Katherine

Slowly, I go up to my feet and make my way toward Blake.

He wanted me to be still, to keep my pose while his brush moved over the canvas…but how can I do that when I feel his eyes on me, taking in every curve of my body? Talk about an impossible task.

Besides, I know he wants me and I know that he can’t wait for it. I can see it in his eyes, in his grin, and I can see it in the hard shape pushing back against the fabric of his jeans.

Maybe I shouldn’t be distracting him from his work, but what can I do? I need him, and I need him right now. There’s just something about being here in the nude, under his artist’s gaze, that sets off something inside me.

As I walk toward Blake, he closes the distance between us, placing his hands on my hips and pushing me back until my legs are against the edge of the bed. I fall on the mattress, looking expectantly as he smiles at me and climbs on top of the bed, his movements fluid and dangerous.

“Blake,” I whisper, grabbing him by his shirt and pulling him into me. He crushes my mouth with his, his hands finding their way to my waist. I close my eyes as we kiss, our tongues wrestling against one another as he explores my naked body with nothing but his touch.

For a painter, Blake sure as hell knows how to appreciate his subjects with only his fingertips…and, sweet mercy, could there be anything more perfect than his touch? Soft and firm at the same time, his hands roam over my body, their warmth making my mind buzz with excitement.

“I don’t know what you’re doing to me, Blake…” I murmur, pulling away from his kiss and looking into his eyes. “I really don’t…”

With that, and needing to feel his hard muscles under my fingertips, I take both my hands to the collar of his shirt, undressing him as fast as I possibly can. I start unbuttoning his shirt, my fingers moving from button to button at a hurried pace.

Then, I run my fingertips over the contour of his chiseled abs, and I let my fingers fall to his waistline. I untuck his open shirt and push it down his arms, sighing as I watch him move, ropes of muscle moving under his arms.

Who could say an artist would look like this? His pectorals look like they were designed to be part of the perfect human being, and his abs are six perfect squares of raw muscle separated by deep lines carved straight into his flesh. I was wet before, but now…Christ! I’ve already been with Blake more than once, but his body never fails to get this reaction out of me.

“You know I can say the same thing about you, don’t you?” He replies softly, and my gaze is drawn to his lips again. “Your smile’s perfect,” he whispers, brushing his thumb over my parted lips.

“Your nose, your ears, your eyes,” he stops for a second, allowing his gaze to roam over my naked curves. “Your body.”

“You’re one to talk,” I reply with a shy laugh, craning my neck and pressing my mouth on his naked skin. Moving fast, he tangles his fingers on my hair and then yanks on it, forcing my my head back.

Moving fast, he presses his lips against my neck, gently nibbling at my skin. I moan slightly as I feel his mouth on my skin, and I close my eyes and simply surrender to him.

“You really don’t understand how perfect you are, Kath…” He whispers, and I smile as I notice his eyes roaming down from my breasts to my flat stomach...and then further down.

“But I want to do more than just look, and you’re the one to blame for that,” he adds in, leaning into me. His lips find their way into mine once more, and we kiss in complete abandonment.

I feel the naked skin of his chest against mine, and it feels so amazing it almost hurts – oh, we’re close to crossing the line that separates a fling from…something else.

“I need you so bad,” he whispers, pulling back from me and looking into my eyes. “Every piece of you.”

His lips go down to my neck, and then he takes them to the valley between my breasts. Using both his hands, he squeezes my breasts eagerly, my flesh molding to his fingers as he does it.

“Why do you have to taste this good?” He asks me with a grin, leaning in and brushing his lips against my right nipple. He sucks it in, and I feel hardening against his tongue, a long moan tumbling out from my mouth as he does it.

Replacing his mouth with his hand, he pinches my right nipple between his thumb and index finger. I arch my back and let out another moan, the pressure he’s applying on my nipple sending a message of pain straight to my brain – except, by the time it gets there, it has already turned into raw pleasure. Blake can’t be a man – he must be a God.

I can honestly say I don’t believe I’ve ever been this wet in my entire life. Thing is, I think of this every time I’m with him.

It never gets boring, and that magic is always there. I know I shouldn’t be talking about magic, but what can I do? When I’m in his arms, I’m hopeless.

“You can taste all of me,” I tease him, biting on my lower lip and looking into his eyes. He doesn’t reply –he just leans into me with parted lips, and wraps them around the nipple he was pinching. He sucks it inside his mouth, using his tongue to lap it, and I become so wet that I can almost feel my juices dripping down my thighs.

Oh, I think I need to feel his mouth somewhere else…

Reading my mind, Blake takes one hand and flattens it between my thighs, his other palm pressed tight against my inner lips. Pressing and rubbing, he works my pussy until I’m lifting my hips from the mattress, swaying them from side to side as electric sparks fly from my pussy and travel up my spine.

Finally letting go of my nipples, he starts kissing me in a downward line, going over my stomach. But, when he gets to the patch of skin where an untanned line shows, he stops. He lifts his head, looks up at me with a sly grin, and then goes to his knees on the mattress.

He brushes his lips down my naked skin, moving as slowly as he can, and he only stops when his white teeth are dangerously close to my wetness.

“Fuck, I need this,” he tells me, positioning himself between my legs and lying on his stomach. He starts by kissing my inner thighs, but this time he doesn’t fool around –he goes straight for the kill. Wrapping his lips around my clit, he nibbles at it softly, tracing the contour of my aching pussy with his index finger.

I’m moaning now, arching my back as my body burns with anticipation. I need him to keep going, I need him to keep this up until I succumb, until I – OH GOD!

He slides his finger inside my pussy with one sudden movement, driving it straight to my G-spot. He leaves it for a few seconds, just pressing hard against that sweet spot inside me, and then slides one more finger inside my pussy.

Still lapping at my clit with his tongue, he starts fingering me hard, his rhythm a feverish one right from the start. I want to grab his hair, to force his head down and thrust my pussy against his mouth; but all I do is grab at the sheets, clutching them so hard my knuckles turn white.

Blake’s in control right now, and all I can do is submit.

But he knows what I need and when I need it. So, wasting no time, he opens his mouth wide and starts sucking and licking while he fingers me, ravaging me with his fingers and his mouth. He does it mercilessly, licking my fluids and hitting my G-spot each time he buries his fingers deep inside of me.

It doesn’t take more than a minute –my body tenses up, a pleasant sensation climbing from my pussy to my brain, and I just explode. I grit my teeth so harshly I might break my jaw, breathing hard as spasms of utter ecstasy take over every single muscle in my body.

He keeps on licking and fingering me while I come, and he does it until another orgasm starts showing up on the crest of the first one. I explode again, two orgasms raging inside of me almost at the same time.

Sighing loudly, I open my eyes as Blake slides his fingers out of me, lifting his head at the same time. I look into his eyes as he goes up to his knees, my fluids glistening on the skin around his mouth.

He swings his legs out of the bed and, going up to his feet, grins.

“Come here, Kat,” he orders me, and I somehow manage to roll out of the bed. I’m standing up when he places his hands on my shoulders.

“No, on your knees.” The sound of his voice acts like a spell, and that’s all it takes for my knees to buckle. They touch the ground quickly, and I just kneel there, looking up at him while my heart pounds against my ribcage.

Mischievousness all over his face, he undoes the top button on his pants, and then pulls his zipper down. My heart tightens up as I see that huge shape straining against his boxer briefs, and I even forget to keep breathing as he pushes his boxers down his legs.

He steps out of his clothes and, standing there, towers over me like a God.

He doesn’t need to tell me what he wants me to do. Because I want the same thing.

I lean toward him with slightly parted lips, and all he does is angle his cock down, its tip pointing straight at my mouth. I stop one inch away from it, and just reach for the tip with my tongue, running it in circles and feeling his salty flavor overwhelm me.

Instead of taking him in my mouth, I tilt my head sideways and slide my tongue down his shaft. I only stop when I’m close to his balls and, lost in a whirlwind of lust, I open my mouth as wide as I can and suck one of his balls in. I flick my tongue at it, feeling its weight in my mouth, and only then do I pull back.

Going back up his shaft, this time I wrap my lips around the tip of his cock. I lower myself over his huge member, allowing his length to slide into my mouth until its tip is pressed tight against the back of my throat.

I open my eyes just to realize that even though the tip of his cock is touching the back of my throat, there’s still some of his cock outside my mouth. I make one extra effort and push myself down, somehow fitting all of his length inside of me, my lips brushing against the skin at the base of his cock.

“Fuck, that’s good,” he breaths out, and that’s when I slide back out.

Bobbing my head back and forth, I start ravaging his monstrous cock as hard as I can. I place my hands on his ass cheeks as I do it, using it as leverage as my mouth flies back and forth over his cock.

I go so fast the muscles in my neck start to hurt, but I don’t let that stop him. I use the pain as fuel to go even harder, the wet sound of my lips going up and down his shaft filling my whole bedroom.

Then, suddenly, Blake grabs me by the hair and forces me to stop. I turn my eyes up to him, and the lustful smile on his face makes my insides clench.

Holding my head in place, both his hands on my hair, he starts to thrust. Sliding his cock in and out of me at a furious pace, there’s no other way to describe what he’s doing: he’s fucking my mouth as if he were fucking my pussy and, by God, it feels amazing.

He ravages my mouth for God knows how long, and only stops when a violent spasm takes over his cock. Groaning, he grits his teeth and then pulls back, sliding his cock out of my mouth.

“The things you can do with your mouth…” He breathes out, and his deep voice makes my pussy flare up with a burning need. I need him inside of me, and I need it now.

“I can do so much more with something else,” I tease him, my words like an open invitation.

“I know,” he whispers quietly, going down to his knees right in front of me. Grabbing me by the shoulders, he forces me to turn around and then pushes my head down; still on my knees, I lay my face down on the mattress. Closing in on me, he keeps me bent over while he guides his cock to the wet spot between my thighs.

Instead of thrusting right away, he just brushes the tip of his cock up and down the length of my pussy, teasing me. He still isn’t thrusting but I’m already moaning, electric anticipation making me feel lightheaded.

“Please, Blake…I…I need it,” I tell him, turning my head to the side so that the mattress doesn’t muffle my words. “Please,” I repeat one more time, and that does it.

My moans turn into a wild scream as he thrusts, his cock flying deep inside my pussy until all of his inches are in me.

“You’re so…fucking tight,” he says, thrusting at a hard pace and making my body burn with pleasure. His thighs slap my ass cheeks rhythmically, and I let the sound lull me into a trance.

Grabbing me by the hips, he rides me hard –one hard thrust and I open my mouth wide, gasping as the tip of his cock hits my G-spot. He does it over and over again and, like a ticking bomb, my body starts the short countdown to a mind-bending orgasm.

I don’t how many mores thrusts does it take –all I know is that when the orgasm hits, it hits with full force.

Thunder and lightning rage under my skin, a storm of ecstasy lashing at my rational mind and choking it down. I don’t even know if I’m moaning or screaming, although I can feel my vocal chords stretched to the limit, my throat growing raw with each passing second.

Instead of stopping, Blake just keeps on fucking me through my orgasm, pistoning into me in perfect timing. His cock goes back and forth like clockwork, and it doesn’t take long for my insides to start flaring up once again. I come once more, and this in a matter of seconds.

Seriously, how does he even does it? He can’t be a regular human being.

I’m breathing so hard that my lungs might collapse any second now. Somehow, though, that doesn’t happen –and that’s good, since I want to keep going. I simply can’t grow tired of his cock.

“I want you,” I find myself saying as I go up to my feet and turn on my heels, looking down at Blake.

I place one foot on his chest and I push him down onto the floor; he goes down willingly and, before he can do a thing, I’m on of him. I straddle him like a wild cat, clawing at his hard pectorals with my fingernails, and he grabs my ass.

“Now I’m the one in control,” I tell him with a chuckle, grabbing his cock by the root and pointing it up.

I raise myself slightly, just enough to place the tip of his cock against my pussy, and then I start lowering my body over his hard cock. I groan as, very slowly, I allow him to slide inside of me. When his shaft is halfway inside my pussy, I just lower myself in one sudden movement and scream.

Wasting no time, I rock my hips back and forth, working his cock with a fury I didn’t even know I was capable of. I go so fast that, in a matter of a few seconds, large beads of sweat start making their way down my forehead and into my face, going over my lips and inundating me.

“Fuck, that’s good,” he exhales, reaching for my tits and squeezing them eagerly. He pinches both my nipples at the same time, and that just makes me go even harder.

Needing an extra edge, I stop for a few seconds – and that just to plant my feet by the side of his thighs. Squatting over his cock, I start bouncing up and down so fast that, if I miscalculate my movements, I might just end up breaking his cock in half. That or he’ll split me in two.

I fuck him until my muscles start giving up on me but, thankfully, before that happens I feel a thunderstorm building inside of me. By the time I collapse on top of him, that thunderstorm has already reached its zenith. Clenching my teeth, I choke down a scream and press my forehead against his chest, trying to survive the avalanche of pleasure that’s blanketing my mind.

I roll to the side, completely spent, and sprawl my limbs while trying to catch my breath. I don’t know if I’ve ever felt this exhausted. Well, at least it’s for a good reason. I wouldn’t mind being exhausted like this every single day for the rest of my life if it meant I could have Blake by my side.

Oh, God, what the hell am I saying?

“Already givin’ up?” He teases me, turning to the side so that he’s facing me. He squeezes my right breast softly, and the moves his hand down and over my stomach, placing it over my pussy.

He caresses my folds and, when I don’t say anything, he just grins.

“I think you still need more,” he says, and then forces me to roll to the side, my back turned to him.

His body fits on mine like a piece from a puzzle, and he doesn’t waste any time – grabbing his cock, he guides it home, placing it against my soaked pussy and thrusting. This time I can’t choke down my scream, and so I just do it at the top of my lungs, his cock scorching the nerve endings on my inner walls as it goes in.

“As hard as you can,” I find myself saying, not even knowing why I do it. I know how hard I can go – at least I think so – and I’m not sure if I can handle all that right now.

I mean, how many orgasms have I already been through so far? Too many too count, that’s for sure. So, yeah, I’m not sure if I can handle one more. Or can I? No idea, all I know is that I want it. And, reading my mind again, Blake is the right man to make my wishes turn into reality.

“I told you before…What you ask for, you get,” he tells me. Digging his fingers into my hips, he starts slamming his cock into me so hard that I even stop breathing for a few seconds.

The way he’s fucking me right makes all the other times we were together pale in comparison to the sheer fury with which he’s using my body right now. He’s moving like a man possessed, the fires of hell burning under his skin and powering every thrust of his.

I scream and I moan, forcing my throat to keep working past its exhausted state, and he just keeps on fucking me as if I was as quiet as a ghost. I don’t even know if he can hear me, to be honest – he’s probably in a world of his own right now, his conscious mind completely adrift.

Blake might seem like a poised man, always cool and in control…But get him hot and he becomes a different man altogether, one impossible to tame.

Screaming my way into a climax, I come undone the moment his thrusts become so hard I stop thinking at all, completely surrendering to the way he’s ravaging me. I claw at the floor, completely mad and not knowing what to do with my body as an orgasm unlike anything I’ve ever experienced before bursts inside of me.

My muscles twitch so hard that it feels like I’m having a seizure and, by the time these spasms subside, I can barely move. My eyes are closed, and the silence in the room makes it seem like I’m floating in outer space.

I’m dizzy and lightheaded but, when Blake slides his cock out of me, a tiny voice inside my mind tells me that it still isn’t over. There’s something I still need to do.

I sit up on the floor and force my eyelids open. I go to my knees and then look at Blake with my mouth slightly ajar. A grin lights up his face as he realizes what I want him to do, and he goes up to his feet in no time, towering over me.

I don’t even need to think about what I have to do – my body already knows it. Reaching for his cock with both hands, I start stroking him right away. My rhythm builds up fast, but then I break it by leaning in and wrapping my lips around the tip of his cock. He groans as I do it, and then he groans some more as I push my mouth down the length of his shaft at a breakneck speed.

Bobbing my head as fast as I can, this time I don’t stop when I feel his cock pulsing hard inside of my mouth – I just keep on doing what I’m doing. In a matter of seconds, he places both his hands on my head and comes.

Gushing a river of cum into my mouth, he fills it up to the brim with two quick spasms of his cock. I remain still for a few seconds, and when Blake’s finished I start rolling my lips back. His cock pops out of my mouth with a wet sound and, before I can even think about what I’m doing, I simply swallow.

“Fuck, you’re amazing,” Blake tells me, reaching for me and grabbing me by the hand. He pulls me up to my feet and then makes me lay down on the bed, joining me a second later.

“You’re the one who’s amazing,” I tell him, rolling to the side and resting one arm over his chest. We stay like that for a long time, the shadows growing around us and tumbling over our naked bodies. Surrounded by canvas, old brushes, and the smell of new paint, I close my eyes and surrender to the moment.

This is a memory I’m sure I won’t forget anytime soon.

 

Katherine

The rays of the sun caress the back of my neck as I make a cup of coffee in Blake’s kitchen. At first, I only stare at the glistening beast of a coffee machine. I am nearly dizzy from the number of buttons on the silver appliance, but I persist, and it does not take too long before I hold a steaming mug of hot black liquid.

I take a sip and close my eyes, enjoying the hot liquid caress my tongue before I swallow. This is excellent coffee.

Coffee is one of my weaknesses. I probably drink too much of it. And I like the good stuff, exactly like the one I am holding in my hands right now. I am a coffee connoisseur.

Life, I believe, is too short to drink bad coffee. And there’s nothing better than good coffee after a little nap, is there? After what happened inside the studio, I simply nodded off. I must have slept for a couple of hours before I finally woke up. Blake was nowhere to be seen, so I just made my way toward the kitchen.

Dressed in nothing but one of Blake’s t-shirts, and with bare feet, I now meander through the apartment and back to the studio.

I make my way through the living room, remembering how it felt to be with Blake. A little color rises to my cheeks as I recall the wild animalistic passion I had felt when Blake and I were having sex.

Dale had never been so near Neanderthal in his approach to sex, at least not with me.

I push thoughts of the ex-boyfriend aside. He is well and truly history.

Curiosity arouses I continue my exploration of this oversized apartment. I seem to still be floating on clouds, the after-effect of sex lingering.

I keep reminding myself that this is just a fling, not a long-lasting attachment, to the point where I’ve nearly convinced myself.

I have to admit, up until I stood in his workspace, I hadn’t been entirely convinced of Blake being an serious painter. Sure, I had seen his work on exhibit the other night, but it was no proof he was an artist. A real artist.

And now I stand in his workspace, and an explosion of color and feeling emanate from each and every piece of art scattered through the vast area stretched out before me.

It is not neat and tidy. I spot two, no, three working easel with canvasses on them. One of them appears to be blank, but the other two have been started, although it is unclear exactly what they are paintings of.

Some of the finished pieces are leaning against the wall, while others are hanging up. More of them are lying on the floor. He sure is prolific.

Slowly, I move from painting to painting.

It is as if a giant has taken me into his cave and laid his soul bare in front of me.

Open-mouthed, I stare at a large canvass filled with dark blues, grays and blacks. The storm raging within the artist is unmistakable. It must have been a dark day for Blake the day he painted this one.

I move on.

I’m intrigued. As a writer I understand all too well how your emotions can rule your creative side.

A canvass covered in every red and orange on the color spectrum has me reel back. I fear if I stand too close, the heat will burn my skin. I wonder if it is a raging fire he is portraying or something else.

I keep staring at the blast of reds, and as I do, I can see the destruction of what appear to have been buildings. I sense anger.

I keep walking. Blues, whites and turquoises draw me in. Puzzled, I stop and stare. Was this supposed to be the sky, the ocean or something so abstract I cannot work it out? Despite my inability to see a definite design, it has a serene feeling.

I recall having read somewhere that blue is a calming color. I smile. So there was a calm and balanced side to Blake after all.

Further along the back wall are some nudes. I’m relieved to find I don’t recognize any of his models. As I stare at them, a sense of insecurity creeps through me.

These girls are gorgeous. There is not a flaw on them. Big boobs, slim waist, flat stomach, nice ass, and slender legs on each and every one of them.

Some seem a little vacant in the facial expression, but as far as their bodies went, they were perfect.

Aware of my own nakedness under the large t-shirt, I glance downward. Suddenly I get the distinct impression Blake had only told me he wanted to paint me so he could get me to have sex with him. Must have been a slow day for him.

I notice another feature these girls have and I don’t. I don’t have long blonde curls to drape over my shoulder, half my face, or half way down my back.

A half-finished sketch catches my attention. I hold my breath as I instantly recognize the face, the shoulders and the rest of the body.

In the sketch I’m lying on my side. I’m asleep. Just by looking at it, I feel how peaceful I am.

My hair, which I had only moments before wished to be long, looks just right. It accentuates my cheekbones. My lips are slightly drawn up, as if I’m smiling.

The longer I stare at myself, the more I sense the eroticism oozing from me. I’m lying on my side, hiding some of my nakedness, and that somehow just makes it more erotic.

Suddenly, my throat feels dry, and I’m a little dizzy.

He must have painted this while I slept.

Hands wrap around my waist. Warm, moist lips caress my neck, instantly setting off emotional shock waves all through my body.

“Like it?”

No sound escapes my lips. His touch threatens to drag me into the thralls of ecstasy once more. I nod.

“What do you think…?” His hands are drawing little circles on my back. I can’t think properly.

“About what?” I croak. I barely recognize my own voice. It sounds frog-like.

“About the painting, Kat. Do you like it?”

I open my mouth to speak, but I quickly realize that I don’t know what to say.