The Finished Masterpiece Boxed Set - Pepper Winters Page 0,91

neck, feeling as if he’d slit me from ear to ear.

Instead of attacking me with more feral urgency, Gil froze.

His cock pulsed inside me. Horror filled his eyes.

I didn’t know how the paint looked blending with silver, pink, and blue but the whiteness beneath the black on his cheeks spoke of death and decay.

My death.

“Fuck.” A tormented groan fell from his lips as he swiped away the pool of crimson. Again and again, he smeared my skin, turning my individual colours into a muddy, metallic gleam.

His hand dove into my hair, painting the strands while his forehead crashed on mine.

The weight of his body increased, the rattle of his breathing quickened, and I stroked his back with shaking fingers. “It’s okay—”

“It’s not fucking okay,” he snarled, rearing up onto his elbows and thrusting into me so viciously, I scooted away from him.

But he followed; his knees locked between my legs, driving his cock into me with single-minded determination—a rutting, debasing need to finish, because whatever lived between us had shown far too many flaws to be allowed.

“Jesus Christ,” he groaned, buckling over me as his anger added a new element to the lust between us. His cock throbbed and thickened inside me, dragging my unrequited orgasm from the depths of my belly and into my pussy.

My body rippled, milking his length, testing permission to explode.

His eyes narrowed to wicked weapons as he dropped his head and kissed me.

The moment his tongue entered my mouth, I couldn’t stop it.

My release wrapped tight spindles around my spine and legs, crippling me with intensity as it ricocheted outward.

Gil grabbed my breast mid-pulse, making me groan and shudder. His fingers pinched my nipple as his teeth bit my lip, and my mouth went slack beneath his, totally obsessed with the quaking, toe-curling pleasure he smothered me with.

He kissed me deeper, trying to crawl inside me. I opened wider, submitting to his crude commands.

His hips never stopped pumping, pounding into me as he wrung every ripple of release from my blood. Only once I was floppy and swimming in ecstasy did his body stiffen and his cock pulse inside me.

Hot jets of his pleasure filled me as his head crashed to my shoulder, mixing his yellow and black with my red and silver. He jolted in my arms, again and again as he fed me every drop.

And I was allowed to stroke him.

Allowed to show tenderness after such a fiendish display.

Slowly, his head rose, his face a wash of colour but his eyes dull and exhausted as if he’d given me his last remaining heartbeats.

We stared at each, trying to see each other’s secrets but only finding roadblocks and confusion.

Gil gave me a bitter smile, looking like some god born to a demon.

Two personalities.

Two tragedies.

Two men.

And I didn’t know either of them.

He withdrew and stood, towering over me, painted and sated but still totally tormented.

With a gruff whisper, he bent over and offered me his hand. “Come on.”

Placing my fingers in his, I marvelled at the swirls and shades of our multihued skin. “Where are we going?”

He hauled me to my feet, granting balance as I stepped from the stage. “To wash.”

I padded naked and barefoot beside him as we left his studio and entered his apartment.

To wash away our lovemaking.

To wash away our art.

To wash away...us.

Chapter Twenty-One

______________________________

Olin

-The Present-

STEPPING INTO GIL’S personal bathroom for the second time was no stranger than the first.

Then I’d been searching for painkillers for his unretaliated punch-up. Now, I stood awkward and naked as Gil turned on the shower and waited until steam curled behind the grey and white shower curtain.

His back held streaks of paint, his ass toned and muscular with my handprint on his left cheek. His cock still hung hard and heavy as if his orgasm hadn’t given him the same level of release mine had.

Hugging my colourful breasts, I backed up as he stepped into the shower and held his head under the stream. The thick yellow in his hair instantly diluted to water colours, flooding his chest and face in liquid lemon.

Rubbing his eyes clear of the sluice, he looked past the steam to where I stood by the vanity. I waited my turn, very aware of my nudity and the remnants of sex between my legs.

I wanted to be by myself. To piece myself back together and harden my heart after being shattered all over again.

I need to be alone.

A by-product of being lonely for so many years.

But he held out his dripping hand,