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“Is it my artistic genius?” He eyes me suspiciously as I continue to work my brush over the canvas, “Or the fact that I prefer to do it in the nude?”
From the corner of my eye, I watch him meticulously roll up the sleeves of his shirt, exposing his forearms. Stepping behind me, his hands roam over my naked body as I attempt to continue working.
His fingers dip between my thighs as he reaches for the brush in my hand, “I think you’re done for tonight. I want to play with my pet.”
“Five more minutes.” I pull the brush from his reach. “I’m almost done.”
“Now.” His voice booms, rattling the conservatory glass as he tears the brush from my hand and throws it on the table. Grabbing the almost black canvas from the easel he tosses it to the floor. “You know how I feel about disobedient pets.”
“I’m sorry, sir.” My eyes fall to the floor.
“You will be.” He forces three fingers inside of me, painfully stretching me as he relentlessly finger fucks me. My legs tremble as he forces a never-ending string of orgasms from me.
“Sir,” I plead as I nearly go limp against the arm wrapped around my waist. “I’m sorry.”
Ignoring my screams and blubbering apologies, he doesn’t yield. It only fuels him, evident by his hard length rubbing over my ass as I convulse uncontrollably against his arm.
Finally pulling his hand from between my thighs, he continues to hold me flush to his body. Swiping his hand over my face and breast, he smears my arousal across my skin.
“You still want to fucking paint?” He grabs a large tube of white paint and single-handedly unscrews the cap, letting it fall to the floor. Squeezing the tube aggressively in his hand, he expels the full contents on my chest. He drops the tube at my feet and roughly spreads the oil paint over my skin. His hands smear it over my breasts and down my stomach, not stopping until his large palm covers my face.
Releasing his hold on me, my legs still shaky, I fall to the floor.
“Crawl to your fucking canvas.” He looms over me. Paint smears across the front of his pants as he undoes his zipper and pulls out his hard length. “Get on your fucking stomach. Ass up. Let’s fucking paint.”
Lying in the middle of the canvas, Grant uses his knees to push my legs apart and my skin slides through the slick paint over the rough canvas. Settling between my thighs, Grant shoves himself inside me.
Gripping my wrist, he swipes my hand over my face and slaps it against the canvas above my head. His fingers tangle into my hair, and he forcefully holds my face against the canvas as slams into me. Each thrust smears the white paint on my body into the blackness beneath me.
Spreading his body over mine and pinning me to the canvas, Grant continues to drive into me. I continue to cover paintacross the canvas as my body writhes beneath him with every orgasm he forces from me.
“Fuck,” he roars, driving into me with such force that my eyes water, as he empties himself inside of me.
He kisses over my shoulder and up my neck as he lifts me from the canvas. Holding my back to his chest, he continues to kiss my neck until he reaches my ear.
“This might be favorite one yet,” he says softly into my ear before spinning me to face him.
Brushing the matted hair from my face, he pulls me tight and I mutter, “Your suit.”
“I think it’s a little late for that, kitten.” He releases his tight hold. Stepping back, I find that he is covered in nearly as much paint as me.
“That’s why I paint naked.” I shrug with a smirk, before heading upstairs to the shower.
CHAPTER
FORTY-EIGHT
DETECTIVE MICHALES
Following my GPS, I make my way to Nikki and Harper’s apartment. Seeing that it’s only a few buildings up the block, I pull into the parking garage on my right. I climb from the truck and walk the half block to their building.
Stepping inside as the doorman pushes open the door, I immediately realize that I am out of my element again. There are two elevators at the rear of the lobby, both of which require passing the security desk first.
These guys look more like ex-special forces than frumpy retired cop.
“Can I help you, sir?” the guard behind the desk calls to me.
“Yes.” I cross the distance and lean on the counter above his desk, “I’m here for Apartment 3B, Nikki and Harper.”
