Beckham hummed. “Good.”
“I’m just… ready for this to be over, you know? To be done with all of this and just be with you and you alone.” I sighed, my voice heavy with exhaustion.
Beckham shook his head, his hand finding the side of my face.
“That, unfortunately, only makes one of us Flower…”
I frowned, confused. “How so?”
“From the day I met you, you’ve been the center of my universe. Despite the chaos surrounding us, in my mind, it’s only been me and you.”
Beckham
Entering my studio, I watched as my little flower walked over to her portraits, which were now a staple in my art corner. They inspired me to create, acting as my muse when she was away working in her galleries.
All she ever did was strive for more, and it hurt to see so many people, blinded by their jealousy of her success, trying to control her, to keep her caged.
Brent was lucky that I was in the right state of mind. So was Gavin. Because if I wasn’t, if I didn’t have my flower by my side and in my bed every night, kissing me to sleep, our run-in earlier would have gone a lot differently.
“You know,” she began as she gazed at my art, “I was always curious about what you do with the photos you take of me in our sessions.”
“I use them for reference. Whenever I feel like I’m missing a key detail or want to refer to the real thing when adding the finishing touches, I use them.”
A small blush crept up her neck. She shook her head as she laughed softly.
“It’s a stupid question, I know. You already know I speak to Kira about everything, and she… speculated that the photos had a more… colorful purpose.”
“Colorful, huh?” I approached her.
She looked at me as she bit her lip. “It’s silly. Forget I said anything.”
“But I want to know, Flower.” My hands rested on her hips. “What else could I be using them for?” I asked, tilting my head.
She adorably shrugged as she tried to play the oblivious card, though I could tell her blush was anything but innocent.
I hummed as she remained silent before removing my hands from her. “Well, since you’re so curious. I could show you another way I use them.”
Ignoring her look of confusion, I walked over to my sofa and took a seat. She glanced over at me in question, and I waved her over. Before she could come too close, I raised my hand to stop her as she stood only a few feet or so away.
Feeling my cock being strained against my zipper, I groaned. “On your knees,” I muttered, and she bit her lip as she did so without complaints. Slowly, I lowered my zipper and pulled out my cock as she watched me, arousal growing in her eyes.
“I’m going to show you just how fucking hard you make me. How you can simply exist and make me fucking want every inch of you. In the meantime, you can look all you want, Flower… but you won’t be able to touch,” I muttered, wetting my fingers slowly as I kept eye contact with her. Wrapping my hand around my cock, I moaned as I stroked it slowly.
She looked so sexy. Watching her was a fucking gift.
The way her ass sat perched and full, the way her thighs looked ready to be manhandled, bruised, and gripped… the way her breasts sat perfectly on her chest, fucking begging me to pinch, slap and suck them like there was no tomorrow, the way she bit her plump lips that practically begged me to shove my dick between them.
Stroking my cock harder, my eyes darkened as she watched my every move intently. She looked intrigued, and I had no idea why. It was almost as if she didn’t think I was practically obsessed and infatuated with her.
“Strip,”I ordered.
She pulled her shirt over her head without hesitation. I watched expectantly as she removed her bra and placed it to the side.
I didn’t egg her on to continue stripping even though my cock begged me to fuck her over the coffee table.
She pushed all of her hair behind, and I stroked faster as she sat so fucking pretty. With her hands on her knees, she slightly pushed together her tits as she looked into my eyes.
Pulling my shirt off, I threw it in the corner before I continued stroking my dick.
