Extra Whip (Bold Brew #8) - L.A. Witt Page 0,19

on his husband’s lower back. “Kelly, this is my husband and sub, Aaron. Aaron, Kelly.”

Aaron and I shook hands. Oh God, that smile. The down-up look. The way that smile turned to a grin.

Jesus fuck, when do we take off our pants?

Except I was getting ahead of myself. They’d made it clear this was just a meet-and-greet. Playing wasn’t necessarily off the table, but in the interest of not pressuring anyone, the assumption was that tonight would be strictly platonic. Which, I mean, that was cool too. I could totally enjoy the view of these two with their clothes on.

“Can we get you anything to drink?” Will asked. “Coffee? Water? Coke?”

Now that he mentioned it, I should probably drink something before my mouth went so dry I started croaking. “Sure. Yeah. Water is fine, thank you.”

He looked at Aaron, who nodded and went back toward what I assumed was the kitchen. Something about that silent exchange made my spine tingle. Few things in the world were sexier to me than the dynamic between an established Dom/sub couple. The near telepathy. The way a Dom didn’t even have to speak, and the sub immediately did as he was told. It was all effortless. Automatic, even. I craved that dynamic, and maybe someday I’d have it. In the meantime, I could sure enjoy watching theirs.

“Come on.” Will motioned for me to follow him down a different hallway. “Let’s go sit.”

As we walked into the living room, a painting caught my eye, and I halted. It was abstract, mostly black and white with a lot of gray, and there were a few sharp silver lines that really brought the whole thing together. This was the kind of abstract art I’d always aspired to be able to do—where there was rhythm and movement and energy, and just the right amount of contrast, sharpness, and softness. “Wow, this is gorgeous.”

Will joined me. “Thanks. I haven’t had time to paint anything like that recently, but…”

“Wait, you…” I glanced at him, then at the painting, and I realized there was a stylized WT at the bottom. “You painted this?”

He smiled, gesturing around us. “I painted most of what’s on the walls.”

My lips parted, and as I looked around the room knowing most of this came from his hands…whoa. There was no cohesive theme or style, though they hardly clashed. Some pieces were abstract, each wildly different from one to the next. Hanging on a rich green accent wall, there was a still life comprised of antique farm equipment. A broad, vibrant landscape hung above the mantel. On the thin section of wall between the living room and stairs, there was a long, skinny painting of a stylized waterfall with tree branches in the foreground occupied by colorful birds.

There were some photos on the wall too, including wedding photos. One of the wedding portraits was much larger than the others, and dear Lord, what I wouldn’t give for a man to look at me the way they were looking at each other.

And then I saw the WT on the lower corner, and realized that, too, was a painting.

“Holy shit.” I gestured at it as I stepped closer to get a better look. “You painted this one too?”

“Yep.” Will smiled, looking so utterly sweet and in love as he gazed up at the portrait. “I loved the photo, so I had to paint it.”

I stared up at the portrait. It was obviously a painting now that I really looked at it, but it was definitely photorealistic. The details on both their faces, on the champagne flutes they were clinking together, on Aaron’s wedding ring—it was just stunning.

“Wow,” I whispered. “This is all just… It’s amazing. Your work is gorgeous.”

“Thanks.”

Right then, Aaron came into the living room with two glasses in one hand and a third in the other. He looked around as if we weren’t where he’d expected us to be. Then he saw us, and he smiled. “Oh, you discovered his art?”

“Yeah, it’s unreal.” I almost told them I painted too, but…yeah, no. I was nowhere near good enough to be comparing notes with an artist of this caliber, and I really didn’t want to kick off this evening by showing my work to someone who could paint like that.

Aaron arranged our drinks on the coffee table, and the three of us sat down—Will on the armchair, Aaron kitty-corner to him on the sofa, and me on the other end of the sofa.

“So,” I said, thumbing the condensation

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