by Colet Abedi
“I would support it if it’s what you want,” he finally manages. I know it killed him to say those words and if possible, it makes me love him more. “Your happiness is all that matters to me and your mom. But I also don’t want to see you throw your dreams away.”
Who knew we could come this far? Before I left for the Maldives, my parents were devastated I dropped out of law school to pursue my dream as an artist, now this? Talk about full circle.
“I haven’t thrown my dreams away,” I assure him quickly. “Clayton’s actually helped me set up my website and social media accounts so I can try to garner business. He’s even found someone that can help me with online advertising.”
That’s another incredible attribute to add to Clayton’s endless list. He really supports my work and is trying to help me get my name out there. Even though I had yet to be commissioned to paint a thing, he makes me believe it will happen at any time. He has complete faith in my abilities and lifts me up whenever I freak out and doubt myself.
“Has he been paying for you, Sophie?”
The way my dad asks this question makes me cringe.
“No,” I shake my head. “I made enough at my last job that I’m okay for another few months.”
To be honest, I haven’t really given much thought to the after because I’ve been too immersed in my relationship. Which is not so smart.
My dad looks relieved.
“But he’s extraordinarily generous and takes care of almost everything,” I feel the urge to say. “He’s really protective.”
“That’s nice to hear,” dad says.
“It’s the truth.”
My dad watches me carefully.
“How will you feel if you lose him?”
Depressed. Lonely. Heartbroken.
Miserable.
Rock fucking bottom, as Erik would say.
And those are just a few adjectives.
“I can deduce the answer from the look on your face,” my dad says.
I shrug and avoid his gaze.
“I love him,” I say.
I hear my dad sigh.
“Then why are you doing this to yourself?” He asks me. “When you dropped out of law school you went on and on to me about believing in leaps of faith. You told me you knew the net would be there to catch you.”
“What are you saying?” I ask in shock.
“Take your own advice, Sophie,” dad says. “You’ll never know the answer until you jump.”
My dad’s words stayed with me the entire afternoon. I mulled over every possible outcome, and the one resounding truth that kept echoing in my mind was that I couldn’t live without Clayton.
I didn’t want to lose him.
I had to let go of my fears.
My insecurities.
Stop thinking about all the ‘what if’ scenarios and believe in my love for him.
And his for me.
Because he did love me.
He had to.
He wouldn’t be here in LA right now if that wasn’t the case. He wouldn’t buy that condo. He wouldn’t have suffered through couple’s therapy, and I know that was pure torture for him. To be honest, he looked like a caged animal in Dr. Michelle’s office. He stared at the door like he couldn’t wait to run out.
I make a quick stop at a gourmet grocery store then one at Michael’s art supplies before I gather the courage to text him.
ME: Where are you?
He writes back quickly.
CLAYTON: At the penthouse.
ME: Can I stop by? I want to see you.
CLAYTON: Yes.
He’s not giving me much, but I forge ahead.
ME: See you soon.
CLAYTON: Do you need the address?
ME: No. I know the building.
Clayton doesn’t text back. I go home and quickly shower and change into a short black dress. I take my time with my appearance because I want him to find me irresistible. I put mascara and blush on, put on a pair of heels that accentuate my legs and am ready to go.
I grab my bag of goodies and drive over to his place.
When I arrive at the high rise, I give my car to the valet and make my way to the front desk.
The concierge smiles at me. He’s around my dad’s age and has a pleasant air.
“I’m here to see Clayton Sinclair,” I tell him.
“You must be Miss Walker,” he tells me kindly. “He’s expecting you.”
He leads me to the private elevator and hits the call button.
“Shall I see you up?”
“I’m alright,” I tell him. “Thank you.”
He nods and leaves me alone in the elevator. I can’t help but blush when I think about the last time I rode this up to the penthouse. I hope I’ll be doing that again soon.
Whore.
Shut up!
I reach the top floor quickly and the doors slide open. I step in the foyer and am surprised to see the door to his place is slightly ajar. He must have left it open for me. Before I can even knock and let myself in, Michael Sinclair pulls it open.
“What are you doing here?” I smile in pleasure.
Michael pulls me into his strong arms.
“Just here to poke the bear,” he says as he kisses me on the cheek. “You look beautiful. Has my brother been behaving?”
Before I can answer, Clayton’s voice interrupts our short reunion.
“Leave her alone, Michael.” He says.
I slowly disentangle myself from Michael’s arms and look over at Clayton. He’s standing by the spiral staircase with his hands in the pockets of his black pants looking somber as hell.
My heart races as I take in his appearance.
His dark grey button-down shirt fits him like a glove and accentuates his built chest. As per usual, the top few buttons are undone. His bright blue eyes hold me prisoner.
My mouth waters.
“Sophie.” I really love the way he says my name.
The energy between us is electric.
“Don’t you have someplace to go?” Clayton finally looks over at his brother.
“Not really, but I can find a way to occupy my time,” Michael replies with a laugh. “Always a pleasure, Sophie.”
He kisses me on the cheek again.
“I’m so happy to see you,” I tell him.
“We have catching up to do, but from the looks my brother is giving me it will have to wait until later.”
I blush.
“Bye kids,” Michael says as he exits the door.
When the door clicks shut behind him, I turn to face Clayton. He doesn’t make a move. I watch his gaze travel up the length of my body, and there is such heat in it that I’m instantly wet with longing.
“So?” he finally says as he lifts a brow.
I stare at him boldly.
“I realized something,” I say.
“What’s that?”
“I’d like to see the bedroom,” I tell him. “You seem to have missed that on your last tour.”
Clayton’s eyes flicker in surprise.
“Did I?” he says. “How remiss of me.”
“Quite,” I reply.
He holds my gaze for a second longer.
“Follow me then,” he says.
Balls to the wall, Sophie.
Chapter 7
Clayton
I want to rip off that sexy little dress she’s wearing.
That’s the first coherent thought I have after getting over my initial shock that she’s actually standing here in the foyer.
God, she’s hot.
She doesn’t even realize her own appeal, standing there, looking like a fucking wet dream come to life. It takes all my self-control not to act on my desire and remain aloof.
I’m trying to figure out what her game is.
Why is she here?
Only a few hours ago she claimed we needed space, a request I was still trying to come to terms with and one I knew I had no intention of respecting.
I
now knew why addicts needed years of intensive therapy to suppress their vices. This woman would take me a lifetime to get over.
I hear her soft footsteps come up behind me as she follows me up the stairs to the bedroom. When I open the door and step inside the massive room, I turn to face her again.
Bad idea when there’s a bed in such close proximity.
To prevent myself from pouncing on her like some inexperienced schoolboy I walk as far away from her as possible. I lean against the giant windows that overlook the Los Angeles skyline.
“It’s a great room,” she finally breaks the silence.
Bloody hell.
“I want to fuck you in every square inch of this ‘great room’,” I say to her heatedly. “And if you don’t want that to happen then I suggest we carry this conversation on downstairs.”
Where I’ll proceed to fuck you in all four corners of the penthouse. And on that kitchen counter, which was made to have your beautiful naked body lying across it.
If Sophie is taken aback by my words, it doesn’t show. Instead, she opens the bag in her hands.
“I got you a few housewarming gifts,” she tells me like she didn’t hear my last comment.
She pulls out a bottle of Dom.
“Champagne seems appropriate, don’t you think?” she asks.
Fucking you seems much more appropriate.
“Quite,” I say instead, going along with her game.
She pulls out two stemless wine glasses.
“I didn’t know if you had stemware yet, so I brought these from home,” she keeps on going.
“I had my secretary call in the necessities,” I say as I follow her every move.
She walks over to the bed and puts the champagne and glasses down.
Christ.
There’s only so much I can take.
“Since you didn’t listen to my advice, I suggest you take off your clothes,” I demand as I start unbuttoning my shirt.
I catch a glimpse of her smile. But she shakes her head.
“No, I don’t think so.” She tells me.
“You don’t think so?”
She looks me straight in the eyes. I can see the desire. She wants me. Is just as turned on as I am. But she shakes her head.
“Not yet.”
I watch as she proceeds to dump the contents of the bag on the bed.
“I need to give you your second gift first,” she says.
I look at the tubes and brushes that are laying haphazardly on the bed.
“Are you going to paint a mural?”
“Not yet,” she laughs. “I need you naked, though.”
I’m so bloody hard I think I might burst.
“Why’s that?”
She faces me.
“I’m going to paint you,” she explains. “It’s been a fantasy of mine and seeing that you’re all about making my every wish come to life—”
She doesn’t need to finish her sentence.
I take my clothes off in record time and walk over to her.
Her eyes are wide as she stares at my body.
“Shouldn’t you be naked for this?” I ask her slowly. “Paint tends to stain.”
“It does,” she admits. “But not the kind I got. And I don’t want to tempt you-”
“Baby, you could be wearing a paper bag and I’d be tempted.”
I reach out for her, but she dodges my touch.
“No,” her voice is husky with desire. “Not until I’m done with my masterpiece.”
Fuck.
“I need you to lie down on the bed now,” she commands.
Perfect.
It’s right where I want to be as long as she’s on top, riding my cock. When my head hits the pillow, I feel my body tense up as her gaze runs along my frame.
“You’re so beautiful,” she whispers as her fingers lightly touch my abs.
“Sophie,” my voice is husky with desire. “Come here.”
“Soon,” she promises, then pulls out a black tie and proceeds to blindfold me.
“What are you doing?”
“I won’t be able to concentrate if you’re staring at me like that,” she explains. “As it is, your body is too distracting.”
Torture.
She is going to kill me slowly.
This has to be her game.
I let her blindfold me and use all my willpower to remain utterly still.
I hear her move around the bed, kick off her shoes and climb up next to me.
And before I know it, the real sweet torture begins. She starts to take small dabs of paints from the tubes and place them all over my chest. And then the brush starts to swirl around my body. I can feel her skilled sweeping moves as she begins to paint my chest into what she had earlier called, “her masterpiece.”
It feels like hours of torture.
The brush moves along my stomach, toward my groin, stopping just short, then back up. Her breathing is becoming more and more labored.
Just knowing she’s just as turned on as I am is killing me even more. I lose track of the brush, of where it goes, where it stops or begins. I feel it come up to my neck, move around in a circle, then slowly trace a path back down as she works.
I don’t know much longer I can take of it. If she touches me, physically touches me with her hands, I know I’ll explode.
“Sophie-” my voice is harsh with desire.
Her sweet lips come down to mine.
“I’m almost done,” she whispers then moves away to finish whatever the hell it is that she’s begun.
I wait.
It’s only time.
I’m a grown man, not some kid who can’t control their desire.
Except with her.
Just her.
I feel the brush move up to my arm and I can’t take anymore. I grab hold of her hand.
“I have to fuck you now,” I tell her unapologetically.
“Not until you see what I’ve done.” She says.
I rip off the blindfold and take in her flushed appearance. God, she’s so fucking hot.
I throw the brush out of her hand and reach for her, but she pushes away.
“You have to see it first. Is there a mirror in the bathroom?”
“Your clothes better be off when I’m back,” I command as I push off the bed and make my way to the bathroom.
I feel strung out.
My body is so fucking ready, I just want to drive into her. I find the full-length mirror and take in Sophie’s handiwork.
My heart stops.
There are a myriad of swirls and colors all over my chest, done like a beautiful sunset. She is talented. Insanely so.
But that’s not what’s made my heart stop.
No.
It’s the word she’s written in red in the center of the beautiful sun she painted.
Yes.
She painted me her answer.
I’m so overcome with emotion that I have to close my eyes.
Yes.
She’s given me exactly what I want.
Sophie’s given me herself.
I slowly make my way back to the bedroom and my gaze finds hers.
“Yes?” I say.
She nods her head shyly.
“I want you. In any way I can have you,” she replies.
The tenderness I feel from her sweet confession almost brings me to my knees.
But I have to give her something in return.
“My turn,” I say.
“What?” Sophie’s eyes flare in surprise.
“It’s only fair, baby,” I tell her huskily. “Now take off your clothes for me like a good girl.”
She slowly pulls off her dress as I make my way to the bed.
“Lie down.”
Her eyes flare in worry, but she does. I reach her immediately and use the blindfold.
Instead of using the brush like she did, I use my hands and fingers, I take the paint and move it around her body. She moans in response.
I tease h
er nipples with my touch, move down lower, move the paint between her thighs. I want to bring her to the brink, just like she just did to me. I want to make her insane with desire. To have her mind only be consumed with me.
“Clayton,” she pleads as she lifts her hips up, begging me to give her what she needs.
“I’m painting on my masterpiece,” I whisper in her ear as I flick my tongue inside and trace my way to her mouth. My fingers move up to her gorgeous face as I draw lines down her cheeks and take her mouth in mine.
I capture her moan and tongue as I kiss her with the depths of my desire.
But I pull back and continue the sweet torture.
I want to bury myself inside her.
Fuck her until I’m part of her soul, like she is a part of mine.
But I wait.
I rip off her blindfold.
Her eyes are bright with desire, her lips quivering with need as she lifts her face toward mine.
“Not until you’ve seen my work,” I tell her quietly as I shake my head.
She gets up slowly. I watch her hands ball up at her sides and the satisfaction I feel just from knowing she’s so primed and ready to go makes me feel powerful.
“I’ll be right here, baby.” I whisper with promise.
Chapter 8
Sophie
I love you.
I stare at the words I feel like I’ve been waiting a lifetime to hear from him. The ones he’s painted on my chest among the endless swirls he’s designed on my body.
I’m overcome.
I stare at myself for a long time.
Taking in the beauty of this moment.
He is my fantasy come to life.
Someone upstairs was listening to me.
Someone had granted me this one incredible, life-altering wish.
Someone had granted me Clayton Sinclair’s love.
I see him come up behind me in the mirror. His chest bright from all the color I had just painstakingly painted on him. His arm moves around to pull me close as his gaze finds mine.
We stay like this for a while. Staring at each other. I feel him hard against my back and a jolt of desire runs through me. I turn in his arms and take him in my hands. I look up at him as I bend down to my knees and move my face against his shaft. I rub my cheek against him and stare up into his eyes.
His gaze is dark with passion.