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"I should feel so honored," she mumbles, nibbling her bottom lip. "Okay. So, where do you want me?"
On my cock. Is that an answer? Probably not. I won't push that right now. I'm a gentleman, respecting her decisions until the very end. She seems to be in a vulnerable state where she wants to celebrate her freedom. Is it because she's momentarily away from her monster? Probably. Then she's probably in heaven right now and enjoying her reprieve from that bastard. Something the boys and I need to discuss in greater detail.
I clear my throat, moving to grab a small stool I sit on when I'd been at this for hours, and drag it over. I tap the top of the seat and point.
"Right there?" she asks, looking into my eyes.
I nod.
"All right. You're in charge," she says with a sly grin, sitting down.
Mother fucker. She has a way with words. You’re in charge. Fuck. This is going to end with me blowing my load in my pants by the end of this session. If I can last that long. She’s willing to get nude for me, and I have to stand there and paint her like it’s nothing.
When it means everything to me.
I swallow hard when she settles on the seat and advance on her with slow, deliberate movements. My fingers brush across her chin, tracing her jaw until I'm moving her long, curly strands over her shoulder.
I take out my phone again, finding it easier to communicate with her in this way and type out a message. "I'm going to remove your shirt," the voice says.
"Okay," she breathes, heaving her chest.
My fingers make quick work of dragging her pajama top over her head, and I toss it to the side. Nothing prepares me for the moment her tits bounce free, and there's nothing else underneath.
Holy fuck.
My dick throbs in my jeans, but I ignore it when she smirks up at me, straightening her posture so her tits are out front and present. I ache to seal my lips around them and nibble on them, making them harder than they are right now.
"You're okay?" the voice asks her.
She grins in response. "Paint me like one of your French girls, Sheppy," she quips.
My cheeks heat. Shit. I could have her take off her sweatpants, too. I could get her completely naked in front of me and feast my eyes on her flesh. But I don't. Not yet. I want Journey to completely trust me. Which she seems to be right now. Or at least, a little.
A loud chuckle rumbles beneath my chest, and I nod, giving her the thumbs up. "Just stay still, and this will be perfect."
"Okay," she breathes, watching everything I do as she sits directly next to the canvas. I prep my colors, get all my brushes out, and then I begin. My eyes glaze over from looking between the line of her breasts and the ones in the painting. If she hadn't been sitting here, I never would have noticed the small mole next to her right nipple. Or the tiny stretch marks on the sides of her breasts.
She's absolutely gorgeous. Raw. Bare before me. I can't take my eyes off her breaths, heaving her breasts up and down. I'm hypnotized by their shape and fullness. Although, I could probably only fit one hand around each. They're perfect. Just like her.
"How long have you been painting for?" she asks breathlessly again, zoning in on my face.
I smile, digging out my phone again. "Since I lost my voice."
"When?" she whispers, her brows furrowing. "Why would he do something like that?" Emotions crack through her words, and my chest tightens in response.
"Why do you need freedom?" I ask instead of answering her.
"Oh. Are we on that tit-for-tat, too?" she quips.
I nod. If I give her my pieces. I want hers, too. I'd gladly sing about my past, whispering them into her ear all night long. But that might be slightly too depressing. Even for her. But I don’t know what she’s been through. Or why they’re so many light scars dotting her skin. I want to peel that back and open her up.
God, I want everything from her.
"I told you about my monster." A distant look takes over her expression, and her eyes glisten in response. "He forces me to do things I don't want to." She doesn't move an inch when she says those words.
But I do. My heart aches in my chest. "What kinds of things?" I dare to ask, watching her closely.
This is the information Jericho wants. All so we can protect her from the shadows of the night. Because if she's under her monster's thumb…
