by Adele Niles
I repair the part of the painting I removed, lift my chin, and continue.
As I paint his strong buttocks and thighs, I can feel my panties moisten. I would love to stroke down his back and run my fingers down the parting in his ass. Maybe exploring just a little. Feeling my way to his balls.
I imagine Griffin opening his legs to let in my hands. My mouth waters because I want to taste him.
My hands go to my breasts and start to caress them as I know he would caress them. A yearning wells up in my chest. I squeeze my breasts and pull at the nipples as if it were his mouth on them and not my own hands.
I look around guiltily, but who am I hiding from? No one. But still the guilt is there.
I throw an old sheet over the painting and get back in bed.
But no sleep comes.
Finally, I give up and go back to my fantasy. If I can get release, maybe his image won’t haunt me anymore.
I envision his face hovering over mine. I feel the stubble of his beard as he claims my mouth.
I pretend he kisses me with probing kisses, and it is his hands on my body instead of my own.
I imagine feeling his big hard cock as he lays on my body. I imagine his mouth traveling down my belly, then lower, to prepare the place for him to enter. I spread my legs wide and feel his lips on my mound. His tongue on my clit. Licking. Sucking.
I rub my mound as he would rub it. His mouth returns to mine and his cock prepares to thrust into me.
Then I come. I come in a thundering rush to rival the storm.
I finally feel sleep ready to overtake me. I welcome it with open arms, because I know I’ll have sweet dreams.
I’ll dream of Griffin.
Chapter 10
Griffin
I pull into the parking space in front of Shawna’s shop. She’s getting it fixed up despite the lack of power. In the daylight, at least, people can come by and see her landscapes, ceramics, and line drawings. And maybe we’ll be able to get a generator to her shop soon, too.
The members, including me, Zane, and Drake, have been helping out the locals as much as we can during the blackout. We located a generator to keep Doc’s office running, despite what he thinks of us, and we got the cellphone tower powered by generator so people can contact relatives and let them know they’re doing okay.
I’ve been checking on Shawna every day of the power blackout. My bear won’t let me do anything else. He wants to protect her and he needs to know at least once a day that everything is okay.
I’m hoping, too, to gain her trust. For some reason, she sometimes acts like an animal that’s been beaten. She shies away from simple questions and cowers at the slightest hint of contact. I don’t like this, but I know there is nothing that can be done in a hurry to rehabilitate an animal—or a human. Patience and kindness are the only things that help, so I’m showing these to Shawna.
My bear has a lot of objections to the patience part, but there’s nothing that can be done about that.
The bells over the door ring as I walk into the showroom. When she hears the bells, she comes out wiping her hands on a towel. She has an adorable spot of paint on her nose.
“Hey,” I say with a laugh. “You’re supposed to be painting the picture, not your face.”
Without thinking, I reach out to wipe it off, but she ducks back and brings the towel up to wipe it herself. She looks down for a second but then brings her head up.
“Hey, Griffin,” she says, smiling. “How’s it going with the food distribution? Are you able to get food to all the people who need it?”
“All that we know of,” I tell her. “But people around here can be funny.”
I look straight in her eyes. “Sometimes they don’t want to tell you when they need help. They try to hide it. Like they’re ashamed.”
She slides her eyes away from mine and pretends to clean a speck from the counter.
A couple walks in and say they want something special to commemorate their anniversary. She shows them some tiny cameos she’s made for other people in town. They agree a cameo would be perfect and commission one on the spot. She gets all the information and schedules time for a sitting.
I watch her during all this and I have to say, it is pretty impressive. For an artsy-fartsy type, she’s quite the businesswoman.
But also quite a klutz. I follow her back into her workroom and she starts to clean a space for me to sit, but this time instead of getting paint on her nose, she knocks an entire pint of varnish on the floor.
I grab an old sheet draped over a canvas and start to help her mop it up. She sees the rag and looks up at me in horror.
I frown as I try to figure out why she’s upset, then I follow her gaze to the easel where I got the rag.
I see now what was covered up by the rag. A painting of a man. Nude.
She is blushing scarlet. “I…I drew that from memory,” she says.
“Not a recent memory,” I joke. Then I look and she has somehow managed to turn an even deeper red.
So it is recent. She already has a guy. My heart sinks. The bear within me growls. I stride to the painting, wanting to slash it to ribbons, when I notice there’s something familiar about the man. He has dark blond spiky hair, sort of like mine. And he’s got a tattoo of a black bear on his arm. Exactly like mine.
I feel my eyes widen and my mouth drop open. I turn to Shawna. “Damn! This is a picture of—”
But I don’t finish because her face is buried in a towel she’s holding over her eyes.
I cross over to her and drop to one knee. I gently pull the towel away from her face. Tears are streaming down her cheeks.
I don’t hesitate. I don’t ask. I just take her in my arms and rock her.
I run my hand down her hair. “It’s okay, baby,” I tell her. “You don’t have anything to be ashamed of. The human body is beautiful.”
The waterfall is still flowing, so I try again.
“If I had your talent, do you know what I’d paint?”
She looks up at me red-eyed and confused.
“You,” I say in a low voice. “I’d paint you.”
She drops her head.
“Unfortunately,” I say, “with the talent I have now, you’d probably end up looking more like a bombed-out building than the beautiful woman you are.”
She looks up with her eyebrows knitted tighter than a helmet liner—but then she starts to smile. She gives a little laugh. Then another. Pretty soon we are holding on to each other and laughing and rocking and holding our sides.
We hold tight, still laughing, and then I look down into her gorgeous face. I lower my mouth to hers, and suddenly we’re kissing.
Just like that.
I hold her close to me and cover her face with kisses before returning to her mouth. I inhale her taste and explore her tongue with my own. She leans back and yields to me. I hold her head with one hand and draw her to me with the other. We move together to the couch and I lay her down. I press against her, my hand going to her breast.
Bells jingle in the other room. Shit. Someone’s here.
She wriggles out from underneath me and I try to catch her hand, but she straightens her hair and ducks out to the showroom.
I sit there in a pretty uncomfortable state until I get ahold of myself. Literally. Then I walk casually out to the showroom where several customers are examining paintings and vases.
She smiles a crooked smile and gives a tiny shrug.
I wave at her and leave.
But I know I’ll be back.
* * * * *
For the rest of the week, we play our hot little game.
I show up during her slow times and we make out like horny teenagers until a customer comes in and interrupts us.
We’re past the kissing phase and have gone to heavy petting, but like teenagers who could get caught at any moment, we have to leave our clothes on. I don’t mind, because that makes it even hotter.
My bear is pretty frustrated because he thin
ks we ought to get right to it, but something tells me Shawna has been wounded and I have to wait until she’s ready or risk losing her forever.
And that’s not something I’m willing to risk.
Chapter 11
Shawna
I can’t believe my good luck. This amazingly good-looking guy is all into me. I’m walking on a cloud. We still haven’t done the deed, but I’ve imagined it a hundred times and can hardly wait for the real thing.
New York City feels a hundred years and a million miles away. I know someday I’ll have to tell Griffin about my past, but it can wait while we just enjoy being alive together.
My phone rings. It’s my agent. I grin. Maybe one of my painting sold. I answer the call.
“Hey, Mr. Goldstaf,” I answer brightly. “Good to hear from you!”
There’s a heartbeat of silence on the other end and then my agent’s voice comes back on.
“Oh, Shawna, I wish I could say the same.”
I feel my face go blank as I listen, not wanting to hear bad news, but not able to stop hearing it either.
He sighs. “Do you know a young man by the name of Andre?”
My heart stops. “Yes,” I say.
My knees give out. I have to sit down.
“I was afraid of that,” Mr. Goldstaf says. He pauses and then continues, “He was just in here. He threatened to harm my family if I didn’t give him your address.”
I feel myself inhale. This can’t be happening.
“I told him I would get it for him and went into the back room to call the police instead.”
I can’t believe what this brave man has done for me. “Oh, Mr. Goldstaf, I’m so sorry. But thank you so much for doing the right thing. Thank you, from the bottom of my—”
“Wait,” he says, a catch in his breath. “When I came back from calling the police, he was gone, so I assumed he had realized what a foolish thing he was doing.”
I bite my lip. That doesn’t sound like Andre. The Andre I knew did about as much soul searching as a roach in a pizza parlor dumpster.
Mr. Goldstaf continues. “And that was essentially what I told the police when they came, though they took down all the information anyway.”
There’s another pause. “Mr. Goldstaf,” I say. “Was there something else?”
“Yes,” he says, clearing his throat. “I’m afraid so. I keep a list of artists and their contact information to give to prospective clients. It’s in a notebook behind the counter.”
“You put my new address in a notebook!”
“I remember your information was clearly marked Do not give out information without artist’s approval, but—”
My mouth flies open. “You remember it was marked? Why can’t you look and see?”
“Because,” says Mr. Goldstaf, “the notebook was lying open on the counter. And the page with your information had been ripped out.”
I am furious at the old man for being so careless with my information, but it won’t help anything to hurt him more by telling him, so I get off the phone as quickly as I can and go about securing the store.
I slam the deadbolt in all the doors and twist the locks on all the windows. I go in the bathroom and lock myself in. I call Griffin.
I pour out my story in a jumble of words and sobs and self-recriminations.
There’s a distinct growl on his end of the line.
“I need my car,” I say. “I need to get out of here.”
“No,” he commands. “He knows your car. That wouldn’t help. And you’re not going anywhere. This shit ends here.”
“I don’t want any more people to get hurt because of me.”
“No one’s going to get hurt except for him. And he’s going to get hurt bad.”
Griffin is at the shop door in less than twenty minutes. He calls me and lets me know he’s here so I’ll come out of the bathroom and let him in.
As soon as he walks in the door, he picks me up and holds me to his chest. He kisses me and strokes my hair as though making sure I’m all right.
In his arms, I’m able to start breathing normally again.
He carries me to the couch.
I shudder in his arms. “What if Andre comes here?”
“Shawna, I hope he comes here. The sooner the better.”
“You could get hurt!”
“Not as bad as he will.” His voice carries a threat.
I look around wildly. “I’m afraid to be alone.”
“Shawna,” Griffin says, “you’ll never be alone again.”
He stands and strips off his jacket and shirt. In the dying daylight, I can see the ripple of muscles in his chest and abs. He lowers himself to the couch beside me. I burrow into his warmth.
He kisses my face and my neck, then sits back.
But I’m not done. “I need you, Griffin.”
“Yeah?” His hand slips under my blouse. He unfastens my bra. He gently strokes my breasts.
I unbutton my blouse and push it aside. He pulls back and stares at my breasts, and then he buries his face between them. He licks one, then the other, and then sucks at my nipples until I groan beneath him.
His hand finds the button on my jeans and he flips it open. He undoes the fly and then pulls my jeans down over my hips.
He throws them on the floor.
My whole body is throbbing with desire. I reach toward him, but he pulls away. He moves farther down the couch, and then reaches forward and spreads my thighs wide. His eyes drink in my full breasts, my erect nipples, and the triangle of my underwear covering my pussy.
He inhales through his nose. He looks at me, his lips parted.
He reaches forward and pulls my panties down and off my legs. I close my legs on my nakedness and cover my breasts, but he removes my hands gently but firmly and reopens my thighs. He runs a finger slowly along the clef of my pussy. He inserts his finger and slowly massages my g-spot.
I push myself onto his hand. I can’t help it. I ride his finger until he suddenly pulls it out. He inhales, then brings his mouth to my pussy.
I writhe under the ministrations of his lips. He flicks my clit with his tongue and laps up my juices in long strokes. He sucks at me while I cry out from the sensation. The shudders of ecstasy start in my belly and possess my whole being. I come in waves of glorious relief.
He kisses my inner thighs. Then he pulls back, stands up, and takes off his jeans with slow determination.
His cock is huge.
He turns me so my back is against the sofa. He takes my ankles and spreads my legs so wide my entire sex is laid open to him. He moves his cock to the opening and eases in the tip. He locks his eyes with mine—and then he thrusts.
Each maddening pump feels better than the last. His stroke quickens and deepens with each lunge. I feel my walls spasm, clutching at him, and waves of pleasure build once more within me. He pulls me to him and holds me as he lunges into me. His back arches and his muscles tighten.
He explodes like a rocket within me and sets off my own explosion. We ride the aftershocks and cling to each other until we collapse, spent, on the couch. He lies atop me, breathing hard.
Then our hearts beat gently together.
Chapter 12
Griffin
When Shawna shows me the couch actually opens up into a bed, I can’t believe it.
“How come you didn’t tell me this before?” I ask.
“You didn’t ask me,” she says. But she smiles at me lovingly as she spreads out white sheets and produces two plump pillows.
We cuddle together as we sleep and I wonder at my good fortune. Yeah, it comes with a little baggage, but what good fortune doesn’t?
The next morning, she wakes me up and invites me into the shower.
“You’ve got a bed and a shower, too?” I ask.
She laughs and pulls me under the steaming water.
She lathers me up and begins scrubbing my back. I reach for the soap to lather her, but she takes it away.
“
It was my turn to be spoiled last night,” she says, “so it’s your turn this morning.”
I’m not sure what she’s talking about until she lathers up my swollen dick and balls.
She strokes the soapy shaft until I’m groaning, and then she rinses it off. She sinks to a squat in the shower and takes my cock in her mouth.
She cradles my balls and squeezes them as she fondles my ass with her finger. She slides my cock deep in her throat and slides it back out again. I wonder why she is so intent on servicing me like this when I look down and see she’s touching herself with her other hand.
That about makes me explode. I watch as she rubs at her pussy and moans on my cock.
“I’m gonna come,” I let out in heavy breaths.
This just makes her go faster.
I hold back as long as I can. When I see her riding her hand in the throes of climax, I let go.
She swallows with deep gulps. I lean back on the shower walls and lift her up to me. I kiss her face and we stand together in the steam.
After the shower, we eat a light breakfast and sit sipping coffee.
“I’m going to get the local garage to go out and tow my car in today,” she says. “Then I’ll see what I can get for a trade because you’re right, that car is a dead giveaway for anyone looking for me.”
“Why don’t you let me take care of that?” I ask. “I’d feel better knowing you’re in town and a holler away from a URSA brother.”
“But you have stuff you have to do, too, right? I hate to dump my mess on you.”
I reach out and take her arm so I can pull her into my lap, then kiss her cheek. “Your mess is my mess, my lady. From now on.”
* * * * *
But by the time I take care of the car and get to the clubhouse, Drake isn’t looking too happy.
“Hey, bro,” he calls out. “Did you know there was Howler action in the northeast sector today?”
“You mean my sector.”
“Yeah. Your sector. Except you weren’t there.”
I feel a tightness in my chest. This is the first time Drake has ever criticized me and it doesn’t feel good.
“My lady’s got a stalker, bro, and I had to take care of that.”
“I hear ya, but lots of our bros got ladies and they all need protection.”