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and stilled on the sketchpad, his gaze traveling from her breasts to her eyes. “Naked?”
“Yeah. You know. As in nude, without clothing, bare. The way you’re supposed to paint me.”
He arched a brow. “I know what it means. It’s just not necessary to have you disrobe right now. I don’t need you naked to get the positioning right.”
Well hell. So much for him dying to see her body. Clearly he wasn’t the slightest bit interested. Then again, she did detect a bit of fullness at his crotch. Not that she was staring there or anything, but when her gaze swept between his legs purely by accident, she might have noticed a bulge straining against the crotch of his jeans.
Probably wishful thinking on her part again. She wanted him hard and aching while he sketched her. She wanted his balls throbbing just like her pussy throbbed right now.
Since he’d decided to focus on his paper again, she closed her eyes and imagined him standing, his arousal outlined against the zipper of his jeans, straining against it as if desperate to burst free. His body bathed in the soft overhead light, he’d pull his shirt off, baring his chest and rock-hard abs. A dark sprinkling of hair across his upper chest would call to her, making her want to tangle her fingers in the tiny curls. The top button of his jeans would be undone, a trail of soft, dark fur clueing her in that he wore no underwear.
She’d rise from the chaise and walk toward him, her heart pounding against her ribs as she reached out with anticipation of feeling his heated skin under her palm. When she rested her hand against his chest, she’d feel the rhythm of his heartbeat, the mad thumping beats matching hers.
With her other hand she’d palm his cock and feel him rock his hips against her in silent answer to her unspoken question.
Yes. He wanted her, too.
Unable to wait a moment longer, she’d grasp the zipper of his jeans, tugging it slowly down its tracks, then working her hand inside to wind her fingers around his thick, long, pulsing…
“Kaitlyn.”
Her eyes flew open and met his. He was kneeling in front of her, the sketchpad on the floor next to him while he studied her face. The urge to part her robe and slide her fingers over her slick pussy was unbearable. A pulsating ache trembled within her cunt. God, she needed to come. Why hadn’t she done that before she’d raced over here tonight?
“How about a break? I think I’ve figured this out, and with another hour I can have it finished.”
“I’m fine if you want to keep going.” And going and going and going. Maybe he could start painting her tonight.
“Actually I need to make a call, but I’ll be back in a few. Get up and stretch a bit. Use the bathroom if you need to.”
So much for her fantasy. Pushing aside the disappointment, she nodded and stood on wobbly legs, her limbs shaky because she was in the throes of a dynamite fantasy and only minutes from climaxing. Her nipples beaded tight against her robe, no doubt quite obvious to Brett.
That is, it would be obvious to him if he’d even noticed. Considering how focused he’d been on his drawings, the chances of him being even remotely aware of her need were somewhere between fat chance and no way in hell.
Well, he might not be turned on, but she sure as hell was. She stepped into the dressing area and shut the door, turning on the water in the sink and sliding her wrists underneath it to cool her heated body. She shut the water off and dried her hands, but the heat still boiled inside her. She couldn’t shake her fantasy.
Taking the opportunity of a few minutes of alone time, she conjured a cool gust of wind that entered the room, hoping it would quench the heat rising inside her. Instead, it blew open the robe, the air sweeping against her wet pussy. Her clit was on fire and her cunt ached with the need to be filled.
Staring back at her in the mirror was a woman in an obvious full state of arousal. Her cheeks wore a pink blush, her breasts felt swollen and tender and moisture seeped down her thighs. She couldn’t go back out there like this. She’d just have to take care of it right here, right now.
Considering her state, it should only take a minute or two to get some relief. Immersing herself in the fantasy she’d started earlier, confident that Brett was on the phone in his office and nowhere within earshot, she raised her hands to cup her breasts, unable to hold back the whimper as she circled her distended nipples with her fingers.
“God, Brett, why aren’t you here touching me?” she whispered, moving her hand between her breasts and then lower, parting her robe and dipping her shaking hand over her bare mound.
“I shaved my pussy for you,” she said to her invisible lover. “Hoping you’d want to touch it, pet it, tease it with your fingers and your mouth.”
The wind within the room picked up, blowing her hair behind her and nearly knocking her off her feet. She backed up a step and braced herself against the wall as the gusts grew stronger.
“My hand is your hand,” she said. “Touch my clit, Brett. Slide your fingers in my pussy and feel how hot I am for you. Hot, slick, ready for your cock.”
When she dipped two fingers into her cunt, she moaned, the exquisite pulsing sensation nearly driving her to her knees.
“Fuck me, Brett. I need you to fuck me.”
Brett stood riveted outside the dressing room door, his hand still poised in midair where it had been a couple seconds ago. He’d intended to knock lightly and let Kaitlyn know he’d returned, but the sound of a whimper froze him to the spot.
Kaitlyn was talking to him in a voice that spoke of sensual promise, of heated desire. His cock, still semi-rigid despite his every effort to tame the unruly bastard, went to full erection in a millisecond. She spoke in a breathy whisper, urging him to touch her, lick her, fuck her. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what she was doing. She was masturbating in there! Masturbating while fantasizing about fucking him.
His cock strained, pulsing against the zipper of his jeans. He could no more deny the urgent need to come than she could. His mind shot to visuals of her standing in the dressing room facing the full-length mirror, her robe parted, her breasts swollen, her nipples taut and throbbing. Her bare pussy would be glistening with her cream as she traced the outline of her slit, then dipped her fingers inside and began to fuck herself.
Walking away and forgetting what he heard would be the smart thing to do.
Then again, when he had ever been smart? Instead, he unzipped his jeans and pulled out his cock, already heavy and pulsing with the need to give her exactly what she wished for.
How easy it would be to open the door and find her there, her fingers buried in her cunt, her eyes dazed with passion. She’d be too far gone, too in need to offer any protest. He’d go to her, his shaft in his hand just as it was now, letting her watch how he stroked it, drawing his palm from base to tip, squeezing it tight so it would feel like it was buried in her pussy. Her initial shock would be immediately replaced with desire as her half-lidded eyes darkened and she continued to thrust her fingers in and out of her wet pussy, inviting him to watch her pleasure herself.
As he drew closer, now only inches away from her, she’d withdraw her fingers and lift them to his mouth, sliding them between his lips so he could taste her. He’d moan at her flavor; sweet, like fresh honey, and he’d lick off every drop before pulling her fingers away from his mouth and wrapping them around his shaft.
Her small, delicate fingers would be like a vise of fire, singeing his flesh with her questing heat. He bit back a curse as his own hand moved over his swollen cock, drawing ever closer to a blistering climax.
“Oh, God, Brett, yes. Fuck me hard!”
Though whispering, her voice was like a resounding song at full decibel level, driving him to stroke faster, imagining how tight her cunt would be when he shoved her against the wall and grasped the soft globes of her buttocks to lift her.
Her lips would part, an unspoken invitation that he could not refuse. His mouth would crash down hard over hers at the same time he positioned his cock between the soft l
ips of her pussy and plunged inside.
The gasp he heard through the door would be the same sound she’d utter as he buried himself fully inside her tight sheath. Her pussy gripped him, wanting his cum. He held back, gritting his teeth as she continued to ride up and down on his shaft, her tongue dueling with his as they moaned together.
“Oh, Brett, I’m going to come. Please, please make me come!”
She was trying to keep her voice quiet, but it didn’t matter. He knew what she was doing, had the image firmly implanted in his mind. He could hear the sound of her fingers thrusting in and out of her pussy, the wet, sucking noises getting faster and faster.
He moved his hand in time to her rhythm, holding back, needing to hear her cries of delight first.
“Yes! Oh yes, I’m coming!”
Her cries were sweet relief as he shuddered, pumped hard then came all over his hand. Hot spurts of white cream poured out of him until he’d stroked himself empty.
He leaned against the wall and fought for breath, wishing he had the guts to burst through the door, take her in his arms and give her what she fantasized about. But he didn’t. Wouldn’t. She might want him, and he might want her, but their coming together would have to remain in both their fantasies.
Hurrying to clean up the mess he’d made, he righted his clothes just in time to see her walk through the door. Her face was flushed, her lips slightly parted, her breasts still full and luscious, clearly outlined against her robe.
She looked up at him, her eyes widening. “You…been here long?”
He shook his head and buried his gaze in the sketchpad. “Just got back. Sorry it took me so long.”
“Oh no problem. Gave me a chance to…rest a little.”
He smiled. Rest. Right. What they both did wouldn’t garner either of them any rest tonight, he’d wager. In fact, it was all he could do not to blurt out that he’d heard her, that he’d jacked off listening to her sweet cries and whispered words.
Before he did just that, he had to get her out of there. “I think I’ve got enough to finish the sketch. You can get dressed and we’ll call it a night.”
