AllFreeNovel
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It is. The rhythm of fucking or being fucked is totally different from the rhythm of painting. I want to be frustrated with the struggle, but somehow, weaving them both together makes it hotter.
“You’re doing so well, little painter. What an incredible piece. I love your work.”
I concentrate on painting, the heat in my face rising to a peak. “Why are you being so mean, then?”
“Mean?” He tilts my face to his. “Are you accusing me of cruelty?”
“You won’t fuck me.” Never mind that I say this while I rock into his fingers. While I skim his chest with colors that blaze to life and disappear into my imagination.
“Just for that, I’ll make you wait longer for my cock.”
“Emerson, no.” He’s good with his fingers. The way he curves them inside me, pushes them deep—it’s good. But I want to be full of him. It’s so dirty. “That’s just—” He hooks his fingers, and every muscle from my toes to my shoulders tenses. “That’s just not very kind.”
“You can have something else instead.”
He takes his hand away, and I’m so overheated, so caught between art and sex, so intoxicated with him, that tears gather in my eyelashes. He’s thick and pulsing and so close. It can’t be comfortable for him to wait, either.
“Please.”
Emerson reaches under his pillow and takes out a paintbrush.
It’s not the one I used on his skin last night. It’s the biggest one from the studio, meant for covering huge canvases in paint or adding large blocks of colors. It normally stays in the drawer. I’ve never thought of it in any kind of sexual way, because why would I?
But now, in Emerson’s hand, with its rounded tip and shining, polished curves…
“Keep painting,” he says.
I swipe my hand down the front of his chest. There’s no way I can continue the previous work if he’s going to use that paintbrush. Emerson frowns. His disapproval doesn’t last very long. I start painting choppy waves. There was too much to think about, with the shore, and the water, and the way they met each other. It’s all ocean now.
He puts his hand around my jaw and opens my mouth. Holds it open while he puts the paintbrush against my tongue.
“Get it wet, little painter. And remember your work.”
Emerson doesn’t just hold the paintbrush still. He presses it into my mouth in slow, careful strokes. Oh my god, it’s too big for this. I do my best to wrap my tongue around it while I add depths to the waves.
“Good,” he murmurs, and then he takes me by the neck, angles my head the way he wants, and pushes so deep that my throat convulses. Tears drip out of my eyes as Emerson takes it out. He curves his hand around the back of my neck and pulls me in for a kiss. Three kisses. One for my mouth. Two more for the tears on my cheeks. “I love this perspective,” he says, and my fingers are still moving across his body. “Lift up, little painter. Let me see how lovely you are when your cunt isn’t so empty.”
My thighs burn from pushing myself up another inch. I throw myself into the sky. Into rolling clouds above the mirror of the ocean. I’d take anything for Emerson. Do anything.
He works the brush between our bodies and nudges it inside.
I freeze at the first inch. He strokes his hand over my hip, studying my face. “Does it hurt?”
“No. It’s so hard.”
“It’s stretching you.”
It feels indescribably filthy to have a paintbrush inside me. Depraved on a level that even the gallery didn’t reach. “Yes,” I admit.
“Concentrate, little painter. Stay still.”
Emerson doesn’t let me fuck the paintbrush the way he let me fuck his fingers. I press my knees into his sides. My thighs shake. And the brush gets deeper. He holds me in place with his hand on my hip while he pushes it in and in and in.
“Why?” The question was longer in my head, but my mind is too involved with the paintbrush to finish it.
“Because you like it. It’s naughty to stretch your pussy with something meant for painting.” Emerson traces a fingertip near the corners of my eyes. “You have these little muscles here that I notice when you beg with your eyes. And the color is so beautiful. The gold seems brighter when you want something.”
Emerson pushes the brush in deeper, and something flickers in his eyes.
