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“Keep painting,” I ordered as I felt Carla stop.
Carla brought the brush up and continued to work. I smiled against her skin as I pressed Carla’s body completely against my own. I knew she could feel my cock pressing into her backside. Her hips moved slightly against me, and it took everything in me not to thrust against her.
That wasn’t what I wanted. Not right now.
My tongue swiped itself down Carla’s neck, and she gasped at the feeling. “You taste fucking delicious,” I growled. The hand that had come to rest on her stomach slid lower. Carla was wearing a small mini skirt, which I appreciated. “I wonder what else is delicious?”
Carla pitched forward, her forearms landing on the canvas as my fingers slid against her.
I should have felt bad about ruining her painting, but I didn’t. “Eli?” There was a question in the throaty moan that she delivered. One that I answered by slipping my finger inside of her panties. She was soaking wet. “Someone’s been a naughty girl.” Normally, I wasn’t one to tease, but there was something about Carla that made me different than normal. The rules that I’d always lived my life by seemed to be thrown out of the window.
“Oh God.” I squeezed her clit in between my fingers, not content with just playing with her. I had wanted to fuck Carla since I saw her. Her golden aura had beckoned me like a moth to a flame, and I’d been powerless against it.
“Does that feel good?” I asked, tracing my pointer finger against her. I wanted to unbuckle my jeans and shove my cock so far in her pussy she’d feel me in her throat. But I couldn’t. I would never take something without it being offered. Carla would always have the chance to say no.
“Yes,” she breathed out, and leaned her head back against me. Her paint-covered hands wrapped themselves around my own, and I stiffened as she pulled my fingers from her.
Turning, she looked at me with wide eyes, and I cursed myself. “Carla…” I prepared for an apology. What the fuck was I thinking? Carla made me lose all sense of reason, but that was no excuse.
She shook her head. Her paint-covered fingers lifted her shirt, exposing her bare breasts. “I want you.”
Her blue eyes were the color of storm clouds, and I licked my lips at the thought of giving her what apparently we were both craving.
Paint was smattered all over Carla’s skin. “Fuck,” I muttered as I wrapped my hands around her waist, pulling her against me. “You are like a fucking work of art.”
Carla’s giggles turned into moans as I pressed my lips to one of her nipples, taking the small, pink bud into my mouth. Her breathing quickened, and she tangled her hands into my hair, pressing her body harder against mine.
“Eli!” she cried out as I bit the nub. I smirked against her skin, and I pulled her skin with my teeth as I released the nipple, leaving a red mark on her skin. My mark. The sight of it caused a possessive growl to escape my lips.
Carla’s fingers started to pull at my shirt. “Take off your clothes.” The growl in her own voice made me chuckle, and I pulled away enough to allow her to pull my shirt up and over my head.
As I did that, Carla turned back to her canvas.
“What—”
Her small fingers slapped against my chest, painting my skin with a mixture of the black, white, and gray paints that were on her fingers.
“Shit.” I jumped at the coldness of the paint.
This made Carla laugh. Her fingers were playing in the paint on my chest, and the feeling of her tickling my skin made me harden even further. How that was possible was beyond me.
“There,” she said, after a few moments, “now, you’re my work of art.” Her voice was husky as she spoke, and the sound of it broke the little bit of control I had.
Just as I did the night before, I pulled Carla close, smashing our lips together as I tried to devour her sweetness. The difference was that this time she wasn’t shocked over my actions, and instead of being a more passive participant, Carla was tearing at my clothes.
The canvas spilled to the floor as we wrestled with one another to rip off clothes as we tried to keep our lips attached.
It didn’t take long for me to get Carla’s dress off. “No underwear?” I asked, pulling away. Carla was completely bare under her dress—much to my shock.
“Are you disappointed?”
I chuckled and wrapped my hands around her waist. “Fuck no.”
Our lips smashed together, and lifted Carla, so that she was in my arms. The two of us were covered in paint, and it stuck our bodies together creating a mess. Not that I cared. The feeling of Carla’s soft flesh against my own made me harder than I ever had been.
“Fuck,” I muttered, as the toe of my shoe caught the canvas that we’d knocked over nearly causing me to fall with Carla in my arms.
Carla slid down my body, and I hissed at the friction. Her eyes sparkled and she gave me a mischievous look.
