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“You’re so fucking beautiful,” I breathe in her ear on my way to kissing her neck.
She giggles, something I don’t expect from some big magazine columnist, and I make a note to see if at some point I can get her to talk to me about her… former problem.
The former problem that was remedied by me. Not to brag and shit…
I lead her by the hand away from my front door, past a soaking jar of paint brushes and paint-stained rags, to my bedroom.
“Come,” I say, leading her to stand in front of a window.
I ignore her puzzled expression while I take a few steps back to enjoy the view, that of a beautiful woman in my window, the streetlights illuminating her like she’s some kind of angel.
Takes my breath away.
“Promise me you’ll let me paint you some day.”
She wrinkles her face. “What? Why?”
I roll my eyes. I can’t help it. Is she that clueless?
Oh where to start? How do you tell a woman how wonderful she is, especially when she has no goddamn clue? Has she been treated so poorly by other men she has no idea of the effect she has on us?
I keep it simple. “Because you are… someone very nice to look at.”
She squirms, shuffling her feet. “Okay. I guess. If you really want to.”
“Now, Ava…” I say slowly.
She looks back at me, hands clasped behind her back, still squirming a little.
I continue, my boxers getting a little tight below the belt. “Take off your dress.”
Her eyebrows shoot up. “Really? Well, okay.”
She reaches for the side zip on the red, swingy dress I’ve been admiring all night. Once she’s got it open, she wriggles out of the sleeves, and lets it drop to the floor.
And behold my lovely Ava. She’s wearing silky blue panties and a matching bra, her figure long and lean with just enough curves to give her an hourglass shape. My gaze travels down her toned legs, resting on her high-heeled platform shoes, revealing just enough of her toes to see her nails painted light pink.
Holy crap. I am so fucked.
I cross the room in a couple long steps and pull her into my arms. She’s soft and compliant and she smells so damn good that for a moment, I almost forget what to do.
“Are you holding your breath, baby?”
She pulls back to see me and smiles bashfully. “Yeah, I guess I am. Or was.”
“Relax, pretty girl,” I murmur.
Fuck, I haven’t been this turned on in… well, I can’t remember when. The truth is, I haven’t been able to get Ava off my mind since our first kiss, not to mention my vision of her naked, sweating, and writhing under me and the guys, making all the sound effects a man wants to hear. Hell, yesterday I had to take a break at work and hide in the goddamn bathroom while I jerked myself to relief.
I sit Ava on the edge of my bed and unbuckle her shoes. When those are tossed to the side, I lay her back and crawl on top of her, straddling her hips. We kiss some more, her sweet sighs and moans tormenting my poor constrained dick. I jump off the bed for a second to remove my shirt and jeans and with my hard cock nearly popping out of my boxers, I return to her cleavage, practically spilling out of her sweet little bra, and pull her tits out so I can get my mouth on them.
I tease her with licks and nibbles, and she squirms under me, begging for more, but probably still a little too bashful to come right out and ask for what she wants.
I’m just here to serve.
I look her in the eye. “Tell me what you want, baby.”
As if I don’t know. I just want to hear her say it.
