I am eager for him to go. And I know Mr. Vaughn is too. Because I can see it on his face. The last
thread of his self-control. Preparing to snap.
I haven’t even had a chance to take in the painting. The only thing I can see right now is him.
And as soon as Bastien disappears down the fire escape, he is on me.
I don’t voice any concerns that I’m covered in paint or that I’m getting it all over him too. I don’t
even get the chance before his lips are on mine, hot and possessive. Tongues and teeth clashing as he
tears at my clothes. We collapse to a blank space of the paper in a heap, and I help him rid my skirt
and leotard, until there is nothing left on me but my pointes. And then he leans back to absorb the
moment, taking all of me in. Covered in paint, my chest rising and falling in the moonlight. Desperate
for him. For This.
“Fuck, Chloe,” he tells me even as he pulls off his sweater. “I can’t.”
But I know what those words mean this time. He can’t hold back anymore. And I don’t want him to.
So I reach for his pants and tug on his zipper. He draws in a harsh breath and kicks off the pants the
rest of the way before lowering his body onto mine.
The hard to my soft. The big to my small. The corruption to my innocence.
He’s watching me closely. Looking for any protest I might have to give him. Pleading with me, I
think, to give him one. But I don’t.
Instead, I reach down between us and wrap my palm around his cock. Hot and hard and thick.
“Christ.” He jerks when I stroke him and kicks over the palate of paint beside us, splattering it onto
both of our bodies.
I smile, and so does he. And then he reaches down and smears his palm through the blue, using that
same palm to paint the side of my body and my face.
It is the most erotic thing he could have done. And I’m panting for him. Wet for him. On fire for
him.
My artist and my muse.
I push and he rolls over so that I’m on top. And I repeat the action with my own palms, dipping
them in red and black and laying claim to his body with my own brand. His cock is sandwiched
between my thighs and I’m rolling my hips against him, sliding over him.
He sits up and pulls me closer, so that I’m resting in his lap. And then he brings his lips to my
throat, kissing me. Worshipping me.