by Ashley Logan
My heart starts pounding ten times faster and I have to turn back around before I give myself away to the room full of people. Re-crossing my legs, I try to ignore the ache between them by squeezing them together as I chew my lip and try to keep my breathing calm.
As soon as debrief is over, I’m down the hall like a shot. Pacing behind my door, I try to reign in my libido before I pressure Bruno again.
“Sex is off the table,” I whisper to myself as my robe flies out behind me. There’s a knock on my door and I panic, because I know who is it and I would like nothing more than to feel his skin against mine.
I want his hard body beneath me, or over me, or behind me, or... shit.
Tying my robe, I make sure I’m covered as much as possible before I open the door.
“Bruno, hey. Um, do you think you could give me a minute or two?”
Studying me carefully a moment, his lips press together.
“Sure. Everything okay?”
“Oh yeah, great,” I say, cursing myself for speaking too fast and fidgeting too much with my hands.
“Okay,” he says, unconvinced. Leaning against the door frame, he looks over my robe, pulled up so high it’s unnatural.
“I really enjoyed your show tonight,” he says softly. “It made me want to do things to you.”
“Yeah,” I whisper crossing my legs again. “Sorry. I got carried away. You make me want to do things just by being present,” I say, forcing my eyes to the floor. “But I said sex is off the table, and that means anything for me too, so can you just give me a minute so I don’t climb you like the pole and take everything too fast again?”
He chuckles. “You sure? Because the thought of you is making my mouth water.”
Fuck. Coupled with the steamy gaze he’s pinning me with, his words are about to make my legs give way. Using all the strength I have, I shake my head. “It’s not fair.”
“Fuck fair,” he says, pulling me to his lips. Lifting me out of the way, he kicks the door shut behind us and attacks my robe leaving it in a heap on the floor before driving me into the bed with his solid form.
His mouth holds me captive as he sheds his shirt and presses his bare chest to mine with a growl.
“Your skin makes mine burn,” he says, kissing down my neck as his hands stroke my side. Raising his head, he smiles at the blanket beneath us and looks at my face. “You like your blanket?”
“I love it. And the painting too. It’s magic. You’re magic.”
He laughs against my skin. “You’re the inspiration, so the magic lies with you.”
I gasp as he draws my nipple into his mouth. “You make me so much more beautiful than I am.”
“I could never capture your true beauty,” he says, flipping us over so I’m leaning over him. Nestling between my breasts as they crowd his face, I feel him breathe me in and growl again. “You smell so good,” he mumbles, easily moving my weight further over him and kissing his way down my stomach.
Before I can protest, he’s lifted me all the way up to sit on his chest, with my knees next to his ears. Looking up at me with nothing short of adoration, his hands run all over my body, easing to a feather touch over any of my scars. With no intention of doing so, my body inches forward as his magical hands tease and entice me closer. It feels so good when he touches me. I trust him entirely to be gentle with every sensitive inch and I even savor the intense tickle of his fingers over my scars. Closing my eyes, I let him turn my scars into a source of pleasure.
The first swipe of his tongue has my eyes snap open as I gasp. Without even realizing it, I’m practically sitting on his face. His hands grip my legs as I tense up and try to back away, and his tongue darts inside of me, stilling me instantly as pleasure grips me.
Then his tongue is gone again, flicking its way forward. I groan as he sucks my clit into his mouth and moans. His attentions only become more intense and I find myself climbing.
“Bruno, stop,” I beg between rugged breaths.
He replies, but it’s inaudible as he buries his tongue inside me again, rendering me spineless.
“But I want to come with you inside me,” I plead, reaching behind me to feel him hard and straining against his pants. It’s enough to make my insides squirm in delight and I squeeze my knees so tightly against his ears, he probably can’t even hear me beg. “Please try. I won’t be disappointed.”
Growling again, he flips me onto my back and kisses his way back up my stomach. “You’re sure?”
“I’ve never wanted anything more.”
With a somewhat troubled, but ultimately determined face, he gives the slightest nod. Dropping his pants to the floor, he nudges my legs open further, giving himself room. “You are the magic Scar,” he whispers in my ear as I feel him at my entrance, coating himself in my arousal. I don’t think I will last long at all before I topple over the edge. He’s not even inside me and I can feel myself tightening at the thought.
His lips find mine, asking permission. I kiss him back with all of the aching need I feel, lifting my hips toward him as he slowly sinks himself inside, stretching every part of me in the most wonderful way. He moans into my mouth and I swallow it, hungry for more.
Pulling out, he pushes in again, grinding against me in the exact right spot. Moaning again, he pulls my hips against him as if trying to get deeper inside me and it only makes the pressure rise higher.
“Bruno, you feel so good!”
He plunges into me again and I forget about trying to make it last. Giving over entirely to him, I melt into his hands, crying out as he thrusts me over the edge. His mouth covers mine to keep the noise contained and he moves inside me, drawing out my pleasure until I’m a quivering pool of satisfaction beneath him.
Bruno doesn’t try to keep going, and I don’t ask about it. He’s still inside me, but I know he’s on his way out. The intense stretch I’d felt has dropped back to a pleasant fullness and I know it’s too much to hope that it’s because he came with me. The thought begins to overwhelm me with sadness because I can’t give him what he gives me.
He kisses my cheek, flicking his nose against mine. “Thank you,” he whispers, still nuzzling. “I have wanted to give you that for so long, and I thought it might never happen. But you,” he says, kissing the corner of my eye where a tear is trying to break free, “You make anything possible. Don’t cry for me. I’m happy.”
That’s enough to make me cry harder. “I just want you to feel as good as I do,” I choke out. “It’s not fair. You didn’t even give me a chance to make it all about you. I’m weak. You steal my resolve with one kiss. You do everything for everyone and I just want you to feel taken care of.”
Laughing, he leans back so he can look down at me. “You are so silly.”
“Am not!”
Bruno laughs again. “Are too! I have been waiting six years to get to this point. Six years. And you got me here in less than six weeks!” he says as if I’m some kind of miracle worker. “Just because I didn’t come, doesn’t mean I didn’t enjoy every single second of it! And just because it didn’t happen this time, it doesn’t mean it never will. You make anything possible Scar,” he says, kissing the tip of my nose. “I mean it. Please don’t be impatient. I’ll happily wait forever if you’ll just let me keep trying with you.”
I look at him as if he’s crazy, but he ignores me and goes right on talking. “And you do take care of me. You keep me company, and push me when I need pushing. You worry about me, and wait up for me, and check up on me. You boss me around. You gave me a mirror so I could tend wounds I couldn’t see for myself. You washed paint from my eyes and my hair, and rubbed the tension out of my shoulders, and you let me love you. I’m a lucky man.”
I frown up at him. “Well when you put it that way,” I say, turning away with a sigh and feeling inadequate despite his words and their ring of truth. “I just wish I could do more. I’m sorry I’m impatient.”
He chuckles and kisses my nose again. “You want a shower?�
�
I shake my head, wanting nothing more than to curl up with him in my soft blanket. “You want to stay over?” I ask softly.
It’s the first time I’ve ever asked a man that. Since I was burned, I’ve never wanted to be naked with a man, or even have one close for more than five minutes. Bruno sets my world upside down.
“You’re so cute when you get all shy,” he says, pulling me off the bed with him. “I’d love to stay over.”
As if he’s read my mind, he uses his foot and shoves all the other blankets away. Pulling the soft creamy one over my shoulders like a cape, he lowers himself to the bed and lies back with me on his stomach. “Is this okay? Or you want to spoon?” Reaching up to kiss his lips, I snuggle back onto his chest and listen to his breath and his heart beating.
“This is good,” I reply, kissing his chest and closing my eyes as his hand strokes my back over top of the blanket as if it’s my fur.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
BRUNO
All week, Scarlett and I have been sharing each other’s beds. Two nights she was so distracted she forgot to take her medication, but the nightmares haven’t been plaguing her either. She thinks it’s because she doesn’t feel alone anymore and although it’s too soon to say if they’ll be gone forever, she seems very pleased. It’s as if a weight has been lifted from her, along with some of her pain and anger.
I’ve started dancing again, which Scarlett loves. Of course, in my head, I’m only dancing for her. I could hear her calls above the noise of the audience, and she was all the way over behind the bar. The guys gave me a ton of shit about it backstage, but I just shrugged and smiled, saying she was just kidding.
Truth is, she enjoyed it so much she made me give her a private show later, which felt pretty good and ended with her screaming out my name so loudly I had to cover her mouth to keep her from waking the others.
Fortunately for Violet, she moved out midweek to live with Serge, so we now have the end of our little hallway to ourselves. The others have loosely dubbed it the honeymoon suite and avoid us like the plague. I’m not even sure if Natalia is still using our bathroom. We’re never up early enough to find out these days.
Everything seems be settling into place.
Brad’s crisis is passing and he and his mom are back in the swing of things, with me and Damon sinking further into the background. His new medication seems to be working; he’s even opened up to discussions about getting himself that modified car Damon’s always on at him about. He and I have been commissioned to do a few murals in an office building downtown too. Some rich guy saw the day room wall when he was visiting a relative and asked after us.
Mom loves the wall we painted and spends a lot of time gazing into the woods now instead of out the window. I hope that she catches a glimpse of me in there sometimes, but for now, I’m happy to dance her around the room being whoever she needs me to be. Scarlett said she might come to the rest home with me when she’s finished her book, though she’s promised to live by the rules I set around the visit.
It’s Sunday, which is everyone’s favorite day at Beyond, because there is nothing to do unless you want to. It’s a day of lazing around and chilling out, which is something I’ve needed for a while. Scarlett is naked, lying on her stomach and using my pillow under her breasts to prop herself up. Bent up behind her, her legs cross at the ankles every now and then as they sway gently in an absent breeze. As she scribbles in her notebook, I turn my attention back to my paper and paintbrush as I sweep the curve of her ass with a smile.
I showed her the collection of nudes in my footlocker. She’d flipped through them with a smile on her lips and asked me how long I had been such a perv. I had to admit that I’d done the first sketch more than a year earlier, when we’d been arguing about cleaning the bathroom. I’d told her to stop leaving her clothes all over the floor, and she’d said they were there to soak up the puddles I made because they were hazardous to her health when she danced around naked in there.
Scar laughed and told me my pictures were very good, considering they were done from memories of her performances, though she found it too creepy to think about much, and made me hide them back in the footlocker.
She hasn’t bugged me at all about the last secret, and I still haven’t quite worked out the best way to tell her without freaking her out. She’s been so understanding of everything so far.
Mixing a slightly darker hue, I begin shading the crease between her legs and get the now usual nod of interest from my dick. Viewing my model again, I run my tongue over my lips and take an intoxicating breath. My room smells of her and it makes it hard to concentrate sometimes.
Her music is playing at a low volume and I focus on the beat to slow that of my own heart as her legs tilt in the air causing her to shift slightly on my shaggy blanket. I wish she was lying on me instead and would definitely suggest it, but she’s lost in her imagination and I don’t want to disturb her as she plots out the lives of others. Turning back to my painting, I lose myself in the same kind of world.
“Bruno?”
“Mm?”
“Will you paint me?”
“I’m painting you right now babe,” I reply, putting one brush in my mouth as I use another to feather her hair into the sexy mess it’s in this morning, framing her rosy cheeks in a halo of gold.
“No,” she says, making me look up.
Rolling onto her side to give me a full view of herself, she sweeps her hand tenderly around the curve of her breast, along her side and over her hip. “Paint me.”
For a moment, I just stare at her, my heart still thumping from how she just touched herself. Clearing my throat, I check my palette of colors. “What would you like me to paint on this beautiful canvas you’re offering?”
“Anything you like,” she says as her hand makes a slow, calculated return trip. “I’m just curious about how your brushes might feel as they sweep over my skin. From the look on your face when you run them over my portrait’s skin, I think I would like it very much.”
“I’ll just get some more colors,” I say, my voice nothing more than a husky whisper as I think how I might like it very much as well.
“Take your time,” she says, making herself more comfortable. “We have all day to enjoy ourselves.”
Smiling, I add blue to my rather neutral palette and top up my red and gold, having only needed a drop for the color in her cheeks and the sheen of her hair. “Where would you like me to start this masterpiece?” I ask, making my way over to the bed and making her shiver by running the back of my finger down her centerline. “Are you going to be warm enough?”
Meeting my eyes, she nods slowly. “I’m always warm when you’re around,” she says, her cheeks flushing a little more as she moves to cover herself a little.
“Are you nervous?” I ask, looking sideways at her.
“A little. I don’t know why,” she says, laughing at herself and closing her eyes.
“Maybe because your sexy little suggestion is a whole lot more intimate than you initially thought?” I say, touching the tip of my brush to the tip of her nose.
“Maybe,” she says, scrunching her face a little.
Taking her in, I set my gear to one side and lean in to kiss her eyelids. “You can keep your eyes closed if you like, but it’ll be hard to paint you with your arms covering the main canvas,” I say, stroking my finger down first one arm, then the other.
“Easy for you to say. You’re not naked and on display.”
“You’ve been naked and on display all morning,” I argue.
“This is different,” she says softly.
“It is,” I agree, looking her over again. “Would it help if I was naked too?”
She giggles and slaps my chest, but then quiets, thoughtfully. Cracking one eye open, she squints up at me. “I actually think that might help a little.”
Chuckling, I stand up and shed my shorts. “Done. May I paint you now?”
Her eyes travel my bod
y with approval and she gives a small nod.
Initially, she keeps her eyes closed as I mix my colors and begin, but curiosity soon gets the better of her and she peers down her side to where I’ve decided to start - where I so often start when I’m painting Scarlett; right in the center of the scar that wraps around her.
“That’s the bit I can’t even feel,” she says, almost sounding disappointed.
“I know. This is only the beginning. Just the start of the magic. It’ll grow and so will the amount you can feel. Trust me?”
Biting her lip, she nods, keeping her eyes on me.
“Good. Just relax and listen to your music while I get lost in you.”
Starting again, that’s exactly what I do. Taking extra care as I progress to her more sensitive skin, I swirl the paint into mini orbits of color, ever-expanding from the center of her scar. Occasionally her belly shudders under my brush and she giggles, saying it tickles. Other times the shudders cause her thighs to squeeze together. Those are the quivers that make my dick hard as rock, and they just happen to coincide with my approach to her breast.
Licking my lips, I trail my paint laden brush around her erect nipple, blowing gently across it and making her gasp. I look up to find her staring at me as if she has been watching me the whole time and knows what the combination of the paint and her body is doing to me.
“Keep looking at me like that and I won’t finish your painting,” I warn, smiling as I return to my task.
“Can you finish it while I sit on you?” she asks, completely serious.
I look up at her. “Probably not. It’ll smudge everywhere,” I say, shaking my head as I expand the arc I’m working on and sweep my brush back down her belly around the half-circle shape I’ve created. Just below her bellybutton, I make another swirl, blue and gold this time and her thighs squeeze together beneath me, making me look back up at her face. Eyes closed in effort, she’s holding her breath.