faster, faster…
He sits up in the bed, catching a hard nipple in his mouth and giving it a firm suck. It registers straight to my core, and I gasp on the edge of orgasm.
“Oh, yeah…” It’s a strangled whisper.
His fingers lightly trace my ass as I move. “So fucking hot…”
He slips a hand between us, rubbing his thumb over my clit, and I electrify at the sensation.
“Deacon…” It’s a frantic moan. His finger moves faster, making me jerk with every pass.
His dick slides higher, hitting that spot that makes me see stars. He doesn’t stop, and I’m losing focus. My vision blurs.
“Oh, God… Don’t stop. Don’t…” I’m rising on my knees, bouncing on his dick as instinct takes over.
My stomach twists, feral noises scrape from my throat. Every nerve in my body is on fire, and I ride his cock until I break.
Like touching an electric fence, my body jerks and shudders. He grips my ass in both hands, holding me against him as he groans deep, pulsing and filling me. His fingers cut into my skin, and I hold him, wrapping my arms around his shoulders.
His body trembles, and I feel him moving inside me. His heart beats hard against my breast, and he’s breathing in my ear. Kissing my hair, loosening his grip.
My arms are tight around him, and his arms band around my waist, holding me flush to him. Our breathing moves in time. I lower my cheek to his shoulder, and I’m sure I’m on another planet, another world where the only things that exist are this beautiful man and the love we share.
How could that ever be wrong? Why should we pay for the sins of our fathers?
I don’t like that thought crowding my blissed-out state, but our reality is only a few hours away, and while we can’t pretend forever, we can pretend for a few days…
“Turn to your side.” My eyes sweep Deacon’s nude torso. As I drag the kohl pencil down my large sketch pad.
“At least it’s warm.” He quips. One leg is bent, and a small towel covers his lap. “I wonder where you’re planning to hang this one.”
I’m shading the lines of his muscles, the planes of his shoulders, when I realize he’s teasing me. “Do you need a break?”
“I’m good.” A sly smile curls his lips, and my favorite dimple catches my eyes, distracting me for a moment before I get back to work.
Sliding my hand along the page, I return to the smooth highlight of his pecs… his beautiful body. My eyes narrow as I look at him again, so unaware of himself sitting there naked and amazing.
“I’ve never had someone sit for me before outside of class.”
He looks up from his phone. “Good.”
It’s so emphatic, I laugh. “Good?”
“I don’t want you looking like that at other guys.”
“Looking like what?”
His eyebrow arches. “Like you’re all flushed.”
“You make it hard to concentrate.”
That only feeds his ego. His blue eyes darken, and I shift in my seat, clearing my throat. “I need to finish this so I can send it with my Arthaus application.”
“When is it due?”
“This week, and it’s very important.”
Then he grins. “So I’m distracting?”
I don’t answer, moving to his stomach. Eventually, I’m going to get down to his pelvis and then all bets are off.
Drawing him is like touching him, but slower. It’s examining every line, memorizing every square inch of skin, every shade and nuance. It’s the most intimate thing we’ve ever done.
“Tell me about your mom.” He takes a drink of the water bottle I put out for him along with some snacks. “You said she made you want to be an artist? I know she was a Buddhist. How did that happen?”
Pausing a moment, I take a breath. It’s a good distraction, and it’s something we haven’t talked about very much.
“She went to art school in California. It’s where she learned different philosophies.” Looking up at the mountains rising along the skyline, I try to remember her. “She never told me why she turned to that belief system over our family’s tradition. I was raised strict Catholic, but she resisted.”
“Do you think that’s strange?” Blinking back to him, I see he’s watching me with that familiar intensity. So interested in everything I say.
“I didn’t then.” Lifting my pencil, I return to work on his perfect abs. He is such a Michelangelo. “Maybe I don’t now… I mean, knowing what I know. Once or twice she mentioned the life she left behind. She would talk