Painting Her

by Natalie Knight

  A deep certainty fills me and I can’t help but smile - somehow, I’m sure that when we are finally old and wrinkled, our joints and muscles a ghost of a time gone by, he’ll be as hungry as he is now. And that fits me just right, if you ask me. I have absolutely no intention of going without sex even one single day for the rest of my life.

  Hey, what can I say? Now that I know how good sex is, there’s no way I can resist it. He just makes me be like this… I mean, I’m sure that he has this effect on pretty much every woman he comes across, but now he’s mine.

  Just mine.

  As I grind against his face, he moves his hands back to my navel and allows two fingers to fall over my clit. Pressing down on it, he starts rubbing it fast, his fingers tracing circles around it.

  My body tenses up and relaxes, the orgasm washing over me with an ebb and flow. The tides of pleasure are lulling my mind, the high waves of this ocean of ecstasy lapping at my body and spending the few reserves of energy I still have inside of me. But I still want more… And I want one last showdown before making him fuck me for the last time. I lift my legs and turn around and, now with my ass turned to him, I go on all fours on top of his body; I reach for his cock and, grabbing it, I point it straight at my mouth and lower my head.

  At the same time, he hooks his fingers on my hips and forces me to ease my pussy down on his face. The moment I feel my wetness against his lips, I start to sway my body at a frantic pace, bobbing my head at the same rhythm.

  We go like this for God knows how long, the whole concept of time becoming completely meaningless. With his mouth on my pussy, and my mouth on his cock, I can’t really focus on anything else. And, as he licks my clit with renewed ferocity, I feel my brain on the verge of shutting down. Still, I manage to remain unconscious, only to have another orgasm explode inside of me, the shock waves of it rushing through my muscles and forcing me to take his cock out of my mouth.

  Coming up for air, I scream as loud as I can.

  Breathing so hard that I’m dizzy, I climb out of Palmer’s body and, without waiting to see what he wants me to do, I go on all fours on the couch. He gets up in a heartbeat, kneeling behind me, and smacks my ass harshly with the palm of his hand. He does it again and again, and only stops when the pain becomes so deliciously unbearable that I’m moaning in ecstasy and thrusting back at him.

  I have my head down, my hair cascading down my shoulders, and so I can’t see him, but I can imagine the wicked grin he has on his face as he presses his tip against my pussy. With one simple thrust, he’s in me again, stretching me as wide as only he can do. I moan and scream, the sound of it blending into something almost inhuman. My voice caresses my eardrums and then claws at it, all while a firestorm rages inside of me, threatening to consume everything that I am.

  Maybe I’ll die of pleasure now; maybe my final orgasm will be so intense that I’ll stop breathing, my heart will stop beating, and then my brain will shut down. My soul will float away into the afterlife and, if all this happens, I’m sure that I’m going with a grin on my face. I mean, to go out with Palmer’s thick cock ravaging me wouldn’t be such a bad way to go, would it?

  No…no, it wouldn’t.

  When I finally come, there’s no screaming or moaning; I throw my head back against the couch and just hiss like a rattlesnake, my throat too ruined to carry on. I almost think that Palmer’s done, but when he pulls his cock out of my pussy he keeps its tip pressed against my inner lips. Oh, sweet God… I think I’m really going to OD on pleasure.

  “Do it… Do it…” I beg him, and he starts to push his cock back inside me. It moves in at a slow pace, but it goes steadily all the same. Even though my throat has given up on me, I force myself to scream one more time, the pressure of Palmer’s cock on my insides too good for me to remain in silence. “Hard… I want it hard,” I continue, and he doesn’t need any further instructions; he starts to thrust as if his life depended on it, ravaging me like he never did before.

  He buries his cock so deep inside me that I have to scream again. At the same time, he slides one hand around my waist and presses down on my clit with two fingers, immediately stroking it at a furious and almost too violent pace.

  It doesn’t take long for me to come undone - one more thrust of his cock and my mind snaps, my soul shattering into a thousand little pieces with it. I thrust back, forcing him to push his cock deep into me, and then I hold that position as a violent convulsion takes over me. My muscles are burning, my skin is boiling, and both my heart and lungs are working overtime to keep me alive. It’s a wonder that I still haven’t passed out… I feel exhausted enough to fall unconscious, but I refuse to do it as pleasure still courses through my veins. Even though me and Palmer have a lifetime ahead of us, I don’t want to waste one single second of what I’m experiencing now.

  “I want you to come,” I find myself telling him, my brain having no say on what words leave my lips. As if my voice has a magical effect on his body, his cock starts to spasm and, half a heartbeat after that, it throbs violently and I feel the warmness of his seed filling me.

  Instead of gushing all his load inside of me, Palmer pulls his cock out and, still on his knees, starts to stroke himself. I feel his thick ropes of cum cover my lower back, beads of it sprinkling my skin.

  By the time he’s done, all I can do is roll around so that I’m lying on my back. I take a few deep breaths, then I sit up. He’s sitting up as well, his head thrown back against the couch as he tries to catch his breath.

  Slowly, I run my fingertips down his forearm and take them to his hand. I tangle my fingers on his, and then lean into him and press my lips on his face.

  “I love you,” I whisper again, somehow knowing that I’ll never grow tired of these three words. As silly as it might sound, I feel like I’m the luckiest woman on Earth.

  “I love you too,” he whispers back at me, his fingers tightening around my own. My body grows cold suddenly, and perhaps feeling it, Palmer reaches for his discarded shirt on the floor and makes me wear it. He dresses me as one would do to a small child, and I keep my eyes on his as he does it, just enjoying the delicate way in which he’s handling me.

  For a man capable of such dominance and raw power, I can’t help but be surprised at how kind he truly is. I can’t believe I used to see him as someone cold and heartless, a total asshole. To say that I was wrong doesn’t even begin to describe it.

  Standing up, his large shirt covering most of my body, I make my way toward the large windows of his living room.

  “Where are you going?” He asks me, picking his boxer briefs from the floor and getting inside them. He goes up to his feet and then joins me by the window, his arm laced around my waist.

  “The city…it looks so beautiful from up here,” I whisper, not even knowing why I’m saying. At ground level, from the windows of the Old Tale, the city is nothing but a blend of smog and dirty concrete. But from up here, there’s a certain magic about it all.

  The streets have an orange glow at night, and the tall spires of office and apartment buildings rise up in the air like Christmas trees. And though I know that no one really sleeps in a big city, right now it feels so…calm.

  It’s almost relaxing.

  “It does,” Palmer agrees with me, and then he’s the one brushing his lips against my cheek. “But only because you’re here with me.”

  I look into his eyes, but this time I don’t say anything.

  Sometimes, words just get in the way.

  Smiling, I go up on tiptoes and kiss him, closing my eyes as I let the memory of this moment be forever imprinted on my mind.

  Love—sometimes it’s even better than what we imagine it to be.

  Nicole

  “More pepper,” I tell Brittney, nodding as I watch her grind some more on top of the pasta. I wipe my hands on the apron, and then quickly scoop up the plate and set it on another counter, ready to be picked up by the waiters.

  The Old Pearl is full tonight, and it’s b
een all hands on deck since we’ve opened doors for the night. All waiters on payroll are working tonight, and even Palmer and I have been hands-on inside the kitchen, checking every single plate before it goes out.

  It’s been a busy night, but I wouldn’t change any of that.

  “Hey, take a break,” Palmer whispers into my ear, coming up behind me and wrapping his arms around my waist.

  “I can’t, I still have to -” I start to protest, but he just turns me around and looks into my eyes. I don’t know why it still happens, but I always forget what I’m saying whenever my gaze meets his. Something about those deep blues ... it never fails to make me lose all focus.

  “Forget about that,” he continues, gently smiling at me. “I want to show you something.” His hands go around my waist, and he undoes the knot on my apron; taking it off me, he throws it on top of a counter and then grabs my hand. He starts dragging me out of the kitchen, but I sink my heels on the floor, trying to stop him.

  “I can’t go out there like this!” I protest, imagining the reaction of the patrons if they saw my hair tied in a bun and my tired expression. Not exactly the best way to leave an impression.

  Besides, tonight’s a special night. It’s been one year since Parker and I joined forces and combined our talents. Both The Old Tale and The Pearl on Park disappeared, and in their place arose a new restaurant: The Old Pearl.

  We’ve been running it for the past year, and the whole thing feels like a dream. A combination of high-end cuisine shaped by more traditional food, the whole concept has left such an impression that we’re already booked for the next six months.

  Critics from all over the country fly in to try our food, and we’ve never failed to impress. Not that we have to try hard; it just comes naturally to us. We’ve combined our strengths, and in the process we created something unique, something that arose from deep inside our souls.

  It isn’t about food.

  The Old Pearl is a product of love.

  Palmer and I have been together for one year now. We’re business partners, yes, but we’re more than that. We’re friends, lovers...we’re everything I dreamed of when I used to stay awake late at night as a small child.

  “Come on, let’s go,” Palmer laughs, trying to drag me out of the kitchen.

  “You should go, Nicole,” Kate joins in, standing next to Brit smiling at me. “Everyone in the dining area is waiting for you. They want to see both chefs.”

  “But...I can’t!” I continue to protest, digging my heels in. No way am I going to step out there. I still haven’t left the kitchen ever since dinner started, but I bet the place is full of food critics, politicians, and all these big shots I never cared about. That isn’t my idea of a celebration, but I guess you can’t help it when you run the most beloved restaurant in the country.

  “You can,” Parker smiles. “And you will.”

  With that, he closes the distance between us and picks me up from the floor. Carrying me in his arms, he walks out of the kitchen and into the dining area, only putting me down when there’s no way I can escape.

  I feel my cheeks growing red as I look around the room, ready to face the scrutiny of dozens of important people I’ve never heard about.

  That’s not what I find there.

  The moment my feet touch the floor, the whole room starts clapping, and I look around to meet the gaze of my family and friends. My parents and brother are sitting at a table right at the center of the room, and all the other tables are filled with both old and new friends. Even Percy’s here, sitting in one of the corner tables.

  “Surprise,” Palmer whispers into my ear, his hand on my lower back. “I wanted to have a real celebration,” he tells me, and I have to bite my lip down to stop the tears from coming. I can’t believe he planned this whole thing.

  “I...I don’t even know what to say,” I mumble as everyone keeps on clapping and cheering. Then, feeling more awkward than I’ve ever felt, I offer all them a small bow.

  “Alright, alright,” Palmer laughs, holding one hand up in the air and silencing the whole room. “I know we’re all eager to congratulate the best chef the world has ever known, but there’s something I want to do first.”

  Still smiling, he reaches inside one of his pockets and produces a small velvety box. My gaze goes down to that box, and I feel my eyes widening as I realize what he’s about to do.

  “Nicole...You know me. I’m no good with words,” he tells me, and then lowers himself until his right knee is on the floor. He raises the box up, and then props it open to reveal a small golden ring on the inside.

  My grandmother’s wedding ring. He must've asked my parents for it.

  “I’ve never loved anyone as much as I love you. You’re my life, Nicole. And I don’t want to spend it apart from you. Will you --”

  I don’t even let him finish.

  I throw myself down, my arms over his shoulders, and we both tumble down onto the floor.

  “Yes! Yes!” I cry out, tears stinging at my eyes as I kiss his lips. “Yes, I will!”

  “I’ll never leave your side,” he whispers, caressing my face and smiling.

  “I’ll never want you to,” I reply, and then I just press my lips against his as everyone in the restaurant starts clapping and cheering again, making so much noise that I’m almost sure everyone in this damn city will hear it.

  And that’s exactly the way it should be.

  I’m in love; let the whole world know about it.

  Thanks for Reading

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