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“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 mypleasure? 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, Brahm?” 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 anystrokeshappening. 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.
Chapter 17
