Page 35 of Yours on the Canvas

His olive skin glistens with sweat, goosebumps scattered across him like a constellation. The soft bedside lamps catch every line of him, every tremor, every heavy breath.

“You are so beautiful, dove. So beautiful.”

He whines at the words, and I watch his cock twitch as he stands there, trembling for me, held up by silk and my steel.

His cock is thick and heavy, framed by a neatly trimmed patch of dark hair, the tip leaking thick with pre-cum. A slow drop slides down the length before falling to the floor.

My eyes trace every inch of him, and it’s like he can physically feel the weight of my gaze, his muscles twitching wherever my eyes land.

“Such a good boy,” I say, my voice low, almost a hum.

Every time I see Jack like this, I’m in awe. He’s the epitome of a powerful, formidable man. But right now, trembling and whimpering while held in my cuffs and blinded by my silk, he is absolutely, undeniably breathtaking.

I’m silent as I take a step toward him. I know his hearing is razor-sharp right now; I can see it in the way his head tracks every shift of my weight. I smile to myself. My little dove is perfect for me. I just need him to believe it.

I move in close, until our chests brush, his breath hitching at the contact. I press a light, slow kiss to his lips, and speak right against them.

“Kneel.”

* * *

Jack sinks to the ground immediately, his movements slow and obedient, and I take a step back.

I don’t speak as I leave the room. Leave him to himself, to the silence, to the space where he waits for me.

I wash my hands, and after drying them off, I pull out another strip of black silk. I slip off my shoes and strip out of my clothes, tossing them into the hamper. I take a moment to tidy the counter, to breathe, to centre myself before I return to my boy. He deserves my full attention, my full presence. And my full care.

And I will give it to him.

I walk in a few minutes later, and Jack is exactly where I left him.

Kneeling. Waiting.

His breathing is rough and fast now, his chest rising and falling in quick, uneven pulls of air. His muscles clench and unclench as I walk toward him. His whole body reacts the second he hears my steps, his head flicking to me immediately, telling me he was listening for every sound I made.

Needing me.

Perfect.

“Good boy,” I say, stepping right in front of him. I take his bottom lip gently between my fingers, giving it a light pull.

“Open.”

His mouth opens slowly, and he sticks his tongue out without me needing to say another word. He sits there, perfectly still, waiting for his next instruction.

I take my cock in my hand, giving it a long, heavy stroke. Leaning forward, I tap the tip right against his tongue. A raw groan tears out of him the instant my flavor hits his tongue. His body strains toward me, and I pull back quickly just as his lips start to close.

“Not yet, boy.”

I lift my hand to his hair, running my fingertips through it, my nails scratching lightly against his scalp. He hums, a small, helpless smile touching his lips.

“Like that, baby?”

He hums in response, turning his head into my palm and pushing in, asking without words for more.

So, I give my boy exactly what he wants. Slow strokes, steady pressure, grounding him with every pass of my fingers through his hair.

Then I pull my hand away, guiding my cock back to his lips.