As I struggle with my emotions, he leans in toward me and kisses me ever so lightly on the tip of my nose.
“Did you see I even captured the lonely freckle on the right side of your nose?”
His hand is stopping me from turning my head. I have to take his word for it. I had not noticed it.
“And,” Blake continues, his hand still holding my chin and his index finger caressing my cheek. “You are one of the most beautiful women I have seen.”
His words, spoken with utter sincerity, release millions of butterflies in my stomach and leave my heart galloping wildly in my chest.
“I bet you say that to all the girls,” I manage to whisper and I wonder how much longer before my legs will simply give way underneath my own weight.
Blake chortles. His other hand now cups half of my face.
“Katherine. Kath.” The way he says my name melts the last of my resistance from me. “I mean every word I just said.”
This time his lips come for my mouth. His kiss is soft.
Slowly, his tongue pushes past my lips to find mine. A groan builds deep down in my throat.
Fling. It’s a fling, I try and remind myself.
When he pulls back, I want to protest.
“Every time I look at you, inspiration washes over me in great big waves.” He points at the picture. “This is just one of a few I’ve drawn of you,” he confesses.
“I don’t know what to say.” It’s true; Katherine the author is suffering from some form of communication block. It’s almost funny.
“From the first time I saw you I knew I needed to draw you.” Blake continues.
My eyes move from the painting to Blake and back again.
Something is still stopping me from giving in. Posing nude is such a personal thing. I cannot imagine myself parading around in front of Blake without any clothes on as he is standing, fully clothed, in front of easel and canvas, paintbrush in hand.
“Since I have met you,” Blake’s words bring me back to the here and now, “I’ve felt so inspired. I’m filled with ideas. I can’t stop painting.”
I feel the heat and color rise to my cheeks.
“Katherine,” he has taken hold of my hands. “You are my inspiration; you are my muse.”
“I don’t think Dale ever said I was beautiful or pretty.” The words are out before I can stop them.
To my surprise, Blake laughs. “Dale’s an asshole and a prick who doesn’t know when he has possession of a real diamond.” Blake plants another kiss on my mouth.
“He does not deserve what he does not value. He does not deserve you.”
I’m not sure exactly what has my wall of resistance crumble, but crumble it does.
“Okay,” I say and this time I give him a little kiss on the cheek. “I will pose for you. Nude.”
Blake smiles then, his whole expression changing.
“You won’t regret it.” He promises.
“Make sure you make me look good.” I say only to say something.
Now he pulls me into his arms and whispers into my ear.
“I can’t fix perfection.”
Blake
Before Katherine arrived this afternoon, I put a bed into the studio and covered it with white Egyptian cotton sheets—a thousand thread count. They’re expensive and they feel damn luxurious.
My mind’s eye has been working overtime, imagining Katherine on that bed.
My muse.
She’s finally here, and now all I need is for her to lie quietly as I take care of the rest.
“I’m ready,” Katherine says, and she comes out of the dressing room.
She’s smiling but I can see the death grip she's got on the towel that’s covering her. Katherine’s nervous and I have no idea why; it’s not as if I haven’t already seen and touched every square inch of her.
“Just get comfortable,” I say as reassuringly as possible.
I need her to relax, so I pour a glass of champagne and hand it to her.
“Here.” There’s a slight tremble in her hand as she takes the glass. “Take your time, and when you’re ready, just lie on the bed.”
“Thanks.” She smiles and walks over to it. “Nice sheets.”
“You might want experience them up close. Why not have a lie down?”
“Yeah, I’m getting there,” she says, and takes a deep breath, throwing back the champagne in one swallow.
“There. Much better. What’s to be nervous about?” she says, smiling.
She drops the towel to the floor, and crawls onto the bed, lithe as a lioness. “You know me, I know you. Let’s do this.”
“Damn, you’re gorgeous.”
Katherine throws her head back and gives a throaty laugh. “Come on Blake, you’re making me self-conscious again.”
“All evidence to the contrary,” I say, because there’s nothing shy about her pose.
This is a woman who is meant to be naked. All the time.
I gotta get my mind on work. I’m here to paint. Period, I say to myself. Because right now, what I see in front of me is the perfect picture.
The bed seems to be floating in the center of the room, as the late afternoon sunlight filters in from the tall windows behind her. I like that she’s backlit. It gives the scene an almost dream-like quality.
Katherine’s back is arched, her knees are bent, and her feet are planted on the bed. She looks so damn sexy, I’m almost coming…undone.
I take a breath and say, “That pose is one-hundred percent working for me, but I’m afraid you may not be able to hold it for as long as I need you to.”
“Oh, no?” she says licking her lips, “then how about this?”
She turns her body towards me and puts her hand between her legs. I’m a little surprised at how uninhibited she is. Just a moment ago she seemed tense and fragile. Now she’s showing me a side of her I haven't seen before, and I’m definitely digging it.
But I’m torn. While it’s obvious she’s signaling an all-out invitation to take her right this minute, I have work to do.
Shit, when did I become the guy who’s too busy for sex?
I shake my head and walk toward the container holding my brushes, “Just get comfortable,” I call out, “you’ll need to stay in the pose for a while. If there are any adjustments that need to be made, I’ll let you know.”
“I could use a little adjustment right about now,” she says in hoarse whisper.
“I heard that.”
“You were meant to,” she says laughing.
She’s playing with me, but I need to concentrate. “Katherine, there’ll be time for that later on. But I need to get something down on this canvas.” My tone has taken on a mock annoyance, but she’s not buying it.
“Well, if you want to get down…” she says leaving the sentence hanging.
“Katherine…” and this time I am a touch annoyed, “the colors are waiting.”
When I turn to face her, my muse is perfectly posed, the light is where I want it, and my fingers have the creative itch. Since that itch has been missing of late, I intend to scratch it, regardless of the fact that a sexy, beautiful and obviously aroused woman—who I am immensely attracted to—is lying on a bed screaming to be messed up.
Yes, despite all that, I’m going to get down to business and paint.
I make a conscious decision to concentrate on my palette, and it calms me as I begin.
“I don’t mean to be a pain in the ass,” Katherine interrupts, “but there’s something missing.” She pouts.
“The only thing that’s missing is the absence of any paint on this canvas,” I say in an effort to just get on with it.
“Nope, I’m sure there’s something missing. We need a little something-something.”
I have no clue what this something is that she’s referring to.
“Blake, you get to have all the fun, while I just lie here.” She brushes her hand across her breast.
“I rather thought you’d enjoy lying
around since you seem to do it so well,” I counter.
She gives me a ‘come hither’ look with hooded eyes and in a low voice says, “How ‘bout some music. Then I won’t be bored while you’re busy playing with your...canvas.”
And there it is again, that pout. The way those luscious lips press together sends blood from my brain to my…Damn, I need to get on with this.
“If it’s music you want, then it’s music I’ll play. What’s your pleasure?” I ask.
“Are you asking me what music I want to hear? Or are you asking me what’s my pleasure? Because those are two distinctly different questions.”
Katherine is really working me. From every angle. But I can’t let myself be dissuaded. I need to focus.
“How about a classic?” she asks.
“Fine, Beethoven, Brahms?” I ask.
“No, silly,” she’s now genuinely laughing at me. “I’m talking a classic, like Marvin Gaye’s ‘Sexual Healing,’ I love that song and I have no doubt it’s on your phone. So plug it in and play. Please.”
She’s right. It is on my playlist. I set it up and it's slow suggestive beat flows out of the speakers.
“Satisfied?”
“Not yet,” she teases.
She’s staring at me; her naked body is glorious. She’s slowly moving her hips to the beat of the music and I’m mesmerized.
Katherine is becoming increasingly difficult to ignore. I’m not that strong. I can’t help but stop and watch.
“Hey,” she says, “I thought you needed to paint. I don’t see any strokes happening. Stop gawking and work. I don’t have all day.”
There’s no doubt, she’s working me. The entire time she’s talking she continues to slowly move those hips, making it almost impossible for me to do anything else but watch. Oh, hell, blood is definitely rushing south.
“Katherine…” I reprimand, “You’re bad. Very bad." Her pout turns into a lascivious smile as I put down my brushes.
"It seems I have no choice.”
And I really don’t. I want to be inside her right this minute and these paints, well, hell, they’ll be here when we’re done.
Katherine
Slowly, I go up to my feet and make my way toward Blake.
He wanted me to be still, to keep my pose while his brush moved over the canvas…but how can I do that when I feel his eyes on me, taking in every curve of my body? Talk about an impossible task.
Besides, I know he wants me and I know that he can’t wait for it. I can see it in his eyes, in his grin, and I can see it in the hard shape pushing back against the fabric of his jeans.
Maybe I shouldn’t be distracting him from his work, but what can I do? I need him, and I need him right now. There’s just something about being here in the nude, under his artist’s gaze, that sets off something inside me.
As I walk toward Blake, he closes the distance between us, placing his hands on my hips and pushing me back until my legs are against the edge of the bed. I fall on the mattress, looking expectantly as he smiles at me and climbs on top of the bed, his movements fluid and dangerous.
“Blake,” I whisper, grabbing him by his shirt and pulling him into me. He crushes my mouth with his, his hands finding their way to my waist. I close my eyes as we kiss, our tongues wrestling against one another as he explores my naked body with nothing but his touch.
For a painter, Blake sure as hell knows how to appreciate his subjects with only his fingertips…and, sweet mercy, could there be anything more perfect than his touch? Soft and firm at the same time, his hands roam over my body, their warmth making my mind buzz with excitement.
“I don’t know what you’re doing to me, Blake…” I murmur, pulling away from his kiss and looking into his eyes. “I really don’t…”
With that, and needing to feel his hard muscles under my fingertips, I take both my hands to the collar of his shirt, undressing him as fast as I possibly can. I start unbuttoning his shirt, my fingers moving from button to button at a hurried pace.
Then, I run my fingertips over the contour of his chiseled abs, and I let my fingers fall to his waistline. I untuck his open shirt and push it down his arms, sighing as I watch him move, ropes of muscle moving under his arms.
Who could say an artist would look like this? His pectorals look like they were designed to be part of the perfect human being, and his abs are six perfect squares of raw muscle separated by deep lines carved straight into his flesh. I was wet before, but now…Christ! I’ve already been with Blake more than once, but his body never fails to get this reaction out of me.
“You know I can say the same thing about you, don’t you?” He replies softly, and my gaze is drawn to his lips again. “Your smile’s perfect,” he whispers, brushing his thumb over my parted lips.
“Your nose, your ears, your eyes,” he stops for a second, allowing his gaze to roam over my naked curves. “Your body.”
“You’re one to talk,” I reply with a shy laugh, craning my neck and pressing my mouth on his naked skin. Moving fast, he tangles his fingers on my hair and then yanks on it, forcing my my head back.
Moving fast, he presses his lips against my neck, gently nibbling at my skin. I moan slightly as I feel his mouth on my skin, and I close my eyes and simply surrender to him.
“You really don’t understand how perfect you are, Kath…” He whispers, and I smile as I notice his eyes roaming down from my breasts to my flat stomach...and then further down.
“But I want to do more than just look, and you’re the one to blame for that,” he adds in, leaning into me. His lips find their way into mine once more, and we kiss in complete abandonment.
I feel the naked skin of his chest against mine, and it feels so amazing it almost hurts – oh, we’re close to crossing the line that separates a fling from…something else.
“I need you so bad,” he whispers, pulling back from me and looking into my eyes. “Every piece of you.”
His lips go down to my neck, and then he takes them to the valley between my breasts. Using both his hands, he squeezes my breasts eagerly, my flesh molding to his fingers as he does it.
“Why do you have to taste this good?” He asks me with a grin, leaning in and brushing his lips against my right nipple. He sucks it in, and I feel hardening against his tongue, a long moan tumbling out from my mouth as he does it.
Replacing his mouth with his hand, he pinches my right nipple between his thumb and index finger. I arch my back and let out another moan, the pressure he’s applying on my nipple sending a message of pain straight to my brain – except, by the time it gets there, it has already turned into raw pleasure. Blake can’t be a man – he must be a God.
I can honestly say I don’t believe I’ve ever been this wet in my entire life. Thing is, I think of this every time I’m with him.
It never gets boring, and that magic is always there. I know I shouldn’t be talking about magic, but what can I do? When I’m in his arms, I’m hopeless.
“You can taste all of me,” I tease him, biting on my lower lip and looking into his eyes. He doesn’t reply –he just leans into me with parted lips, and wraps them around the nipple he was pinching. He sucks it inside his mouth, using his tongue to lap it, and I become so wet that I can almost feel my juices dripping down my thighs.
Oh, I think I need to feel his mouth somewhere else…
Reading my mind, Blake takes one hand and flattens it between my thighs, his other palm pressed tight against my inner lips. Pressing and rubbing, he works my pussy until I’m lifting my hips from the mattress, swaying them from side to side as electric sparks fly from my pussy and travel up my spine.
Finally letting go of my nipples, he starts kissing me in a downward line, going over my stomach. But, when he gets to the patch of skin where an untanned line shows, he stops. He lifts his head, looks up at me with a sly grin, and then goes to his knees on the mattress.
He brushes his lips down my naked skin, moving as slowly as he can, and he only st
ops when his white teeth are dangerously close to my wetness.
“Fuck, I need this,” he tells me, positioning himself between my legs and lying on his stomach. He starts by kissing my inner thighs, but this time he doesn’t fool around –he goes straight for the kill. Wrapping his lips around my clit, he nibbles at it softly, tracing the contour of my aching pussy with his index finger.
I’m moaning now, arching my back as my body burns with anticipation. I need him to keep going, I need him to keep this up until I succumb, until I – OH GOD!
He slides his finger inside my pussy with one sudden movement, driving it straight to my G-spot. He leaves it for a few seconds, just pressing hard against that sweet spot inside me, and then slides one more finger inside my pussy.
Still lapping at my clit with his tongue, he starts fingering me hard, his rhythm a feverish one right from the start. I want to grab his hair, to force his head down and thrust my pussy against his mouth; but all I do is grab at the sheets, clutching them so hard my knuckles turn white.
Blake’s in control right now, and all I can do is submit.
But he knows what I need and when I need it. So, wasting no time, he opens his mouth wide and starts sucking and licking while he fingers me, ravaging me with his fingers and his mouth. He does it mercilessly, licking my fluids and hitting my G-spot each time he buries his fingers deep inside of me.
It doesn’t take more than a minute –my body tenses up, a pleasant sensation climbing from my pussy to my brain, and I just explode. I grit my teeth so harshly I might break my jaw, breathing hard as spasms of utter ecstasy take over every single muscle in my body.
He keeps on licking and fingering me while I come, and he does it until another orgasm starts showing up on the crest of the first one. I explode again, two orgasms raging inside of me almost at the same time.
Sighing loudly, I open my eyes as Blake slides his fingers out of me, lifting his head at the same time. I look into his eyes as he goes up to his knees, my fluids glistening on the skin around his mouth.
He swings his legs out of the bed and, going up to his feet, grins.
“Come here, Kat,” he orders me, and I somehow manage to roll out of the bed. I’m standing up when he places his hands on my shoulders.
The Marriage Mistake Page 130