“There was this red dress you had, with a rope belt at the waist, and a low neckline. You wore a camisole underneath. I used to fantasize about the bra you might be wearing. Red lace? Leopard skin?” He paused, tracing a spiral on my knee. Far, far away from my needy clit. “What kind of bra do you have on now?”
Heat flared inside me, and my heart pounded. “You’ll soon find out.” My voice trembled in eagerness. My fingers tightened around the steering wheel, and I stared straight ahead.
Grinning broadly, he caught my eye. “By the way, the light’s been green for a good five seconds.”
Oh God, he made it so hard to focus on the road. Step on the gas before it turns red again! “Your wandering hands are distracting me.”
“I can stop,” he teased.
“Don’t you dare!”
“Left,” he said. “Then take a right at the corner store. It’s the four-story brick building. Parking is around back.”
I eased my little car into an empty space, grateful I didn’t rear-end anyone on the way over. Justin reached for the door handle. No way. Not yet. After shamelessly running his fingers up and down my leg like that? And denying me when I asked for more? I pressed the automatic door lock button.
Click.
You’re all mine. Hungry for him, I grabbed his shirt and pulled him toward me. My other hand threaded in his hair—so soft—and traced the bold line of his jaw, the firm hairs in his beard.
“Kiss me,” I said. “Don’t tell me to wait. Because I won’t.”
Fire burned in his eyes, in his touch. Our lips met in a long, slow kiss. Soft and yielding, his mouth claimed mine. Passion flamed inside me. The kiss intensified, and his fingers thrust into my hair. My hold on his shirt tightened, and I sensed the lean muscle underneath. I won’t let you pull away. Not until I’m done. Our tongues met, and he tasted of mint and lemon. Justin’s hand shifted to my waist, moving upward, avoiding my breasts. When he broke away, I could barely catch my breath. Neither could he.
“Slow down.” He cupped my chin in his palms. “Be patient.” There was promise in his voice.
We got out of the car and climbed three flights of stairs to his apartment. Every step made my pussy ache. Wetness soaked through my thong. I needed release. Fast. I wanted him to fuck me, drive his cock into me. Over and over and over. How much stamina do you have, Justin? While he fumbled for his keys, I ran my fingers up his forearm, to his shoulder, up into his hair. I considered slamming him against the wall, tearing open his shirt, sending buttons popping and flying down the hall. So what if neighbors opened their doors and saw us?
“What a sexy ass.” With both hands, I stroked him through his jeans, hungry for the firm flesh underneath. Did he have boxers? Or a pair of briefs?
“Not as sexy as yours.” He turned around, grabbed my wrists and pinned me to the wall.
Exhilaration shot through my veins. My heart thundered.
“Is this what you want?”
“Yes,” I said fiercely.
Holding my arms beside my head, he kissed me long and hard, fingers tightening over my wrists. Fireworks went off behind my eyelids. No one ever kissed me this way before, and I wanted the excitement to last. His lips tore away from mine, and our eyes locked. His gaze felt so hot it singed with the intensity of a brilliant blue flame. He released me, and my arms fell limply to my sides.
“First,” he said, his palms sliding over my ass, “I want to show you my art.”
Breathless, I nodded. Justin turned the key in the lock. Calm down, Jenna. Art first. Sex later. Be patient. Remembering his words, I flushed.
Chapter Two
“Welcome to my studio.” He ushered me into his apartment, a typical university student’s pad, except the living room had been converted into a makeshift art studio.
Sheets of plastic covered the floor. Five-gallon buckets lined one wall. In the corner, I spotted the sculpture he showed me in the bar. I walked over to it, trying to push thoughts of imminent sex out of my head. And failing miserably.
The tiny picture on the cell phone hadn’t done the sculpture justice. In white plaster, the details were exquisite: the delicate neck, the swell of her breasts, the detail in her fingers. Her arm swept over her chest, giving the impression of a young woman leaving girlhood behind, still vulnerable and innocent, with a slowly dawning awareness of what womanhood means.
“It’s as if she’s looking at herself in the mirror,” I analyzed. “She’s blushing at the sight of her curves.”
“Eloise was very shy, which is why I wanted her to pose. Emotion is critical, and it’s very difficult to infuse a piece with emotion without any facial features. That’s the challenge. I like a challenge.” He eyed me from head to toe. Did he know how horny he was making me? Did he have a hard-on? Taking long, slow breaths, I struggled to keep my mind on his artwork.
“This sculpture is part one of my final project. The second piece is here.”
As he pointed in the opposite corner, he placed his palm on the small of my back. His touch burned. It took all my willpower to focus on the sculpture.
A scorcher. A woman’s voluptuous torso, her hand cupping a fleshy breast, as if offering herself to whoever wanted her. The other hand rested provocatively on her hip. Parted thighs revealed the cleft of her sex. Hmmm. What did I make of this one? Intense. Carnal.
“The opposite of the first,” I said. “It’s exhibitionist in nature. It suggests wild abandon, promiscuity. I can almost picture her posing in a booth in Amsterdam.”
“I like your interpretations. These are my two best pieces,” he said, clearly proud of his work. “To complete the series, I need a third. My deadline is next week.”
“Sculpture number one represents innocence. The second represents raw sexual energy. What’s next?”
Justin cleared his throat. “Umm, until yesterday, I wasn’t sure. But when you walked into the bar, my creative juices started flowing.”
My juices started flowing too.
“What about a sculpture of a mature woman? Someone confident, assertive, at ease with herself…” Expectantly, he looked at me.
“Me?” I said in disbelief.
“Why not?”
Yeah, why not? How flattering. Would my body look as good as the bodies of the younger women who’d modeled for him? Mine had a lot more mileage.
Yes it would, I decided, because Justin sculpted his art to perfection. Besides, posing meant getting naked and I wanted nothing more than to strip off my clothes. And tackle Justin. And ride him cowgirl-style on the floor. “I’ll do it.”
Calming my lust, I basked in his warm smile.
“You’re beautiful, sophisticated, just what I’m looking for.” He grinned, showing off his perfect teeth, and he placed a hand on my upper arm.
In response, I pressed my body against his and locked my fingers together behind his neck. Try to get away now, Justin, my cougar purred. You’re going to make such a succulent meal.
“What does modeling involve, exactly?” I asked in a teasing tone. “When do I get to strip down?” My cheeks grew hot.
“Patience,” Justin whispered. “You’re bursting at the seams. I can tell.” He wrapped his arms around me, eased his fingertips below my shoulder blades and applied pressure in small circular motions.
Ohhhh. Heaven. I bit back a moan. At this rate, my legs wouldn’t hold me up much longer. I sagged against him. “You’ve got skills. Maybe you should have stayed in massage school.”
“Thanks for the compliment, Jenna, but we have work to do. Step one. We need to find a suitable pose for a sexy, confident woman.” He released me, his blue eyes burning into mine. He brushed the hair from my face. “I want you standing up.”
Heat suffused my body, sending fire through my veins. “That’s the position you prefer?”
“Among others. But for now, standing.”
“Sounds good.” I kissed him again, a long, passionate bruising kiss. His tongue flicked into my mouth, probing and ex
ploring, tasting me. I tasted him back and pushed my hips into his, rubbing my throbbing clit against his leg. He yielded, his pelvis matching rhythm with mine. His erect cock pressed against my belly. Before I could touch it, he grasped both my arms, slowly pushed me away and held me at arm’s length.
“Work, remember?” he whispered. “We’ll play later.”
What? Caught in a haze of lust, I barely heard him. “No, no, no.”
“Am I going to have to hose you down?”
“How about we make things easy and you just fuck me?” I insisted. “That way you don’t have to flood your apartment. No water damage. No insurance claims.”
“This is a lesson in patience, remember?”
A lesson? “Teachers don’t make good students, remember?”
Justin laughed and motioned to a temporary partition in the middle of the room, draped with a large blanket.
“Stand here,” he said, his tone firm and businesslike. “The wall will give you support and help you stay still, while the blanket makes things a little more comfortable. Pose this way.”
I struggled to get my heightened state of arousal under control. As if I were a mannequin, he positioned my limbs. Every time he touched me, heat sparked under my skin. He put his palms on my shoulders, altering my posture, causing my breasts to push against my blouse. My left buttock and shoulder rested against the wall, and my right foot pointed straight ahead. Left foot at a forty-five degree angle. Right hand on hip. Left arm relaxed by my side.
“Perfect,” he murmured, admiring me from head to foot.
Even before the casting process began, I knew what impression this pose would give the viewer. Confidence. Self-acceptance. A woman proud of who she is.
“Step two.” Justin reached behind one of the five-gallon buckets and produced a bottle of clear liquid. “Slather yourself in baby oil. It will help prevent the alginate from sticking to your skin.”
Algi-what? I took the bottle from him and examined the label. “Earlier, you mentioned it was important to keep your model content and relaxed.” Quickly, I planted a featherlight kiss on his neck. Another one a few inches higher. And another.
He gasped. “Yes, I did.”
“Then you should be the one covering me in baby oil.” I returned the bottle, pleased by the wild grin that broke out on his face.
I ran my hands up his rock-hard abs, to his pecs, to his broad shoulders. Then I moved down to the taut, muscular biceps, which flexed at my touch, and on to his sinewy forearms, tracing the blue veins under his skin. His flesh was tantalizingly young and firm.
So much younger than mine. Part of me couldn’t believe this was happening. My conscience put up a final faint protest, but my cougar silenced her with a throaty roar and razor claws.
Justin shivered at my touch. Slowly, I undid his buttons one by one. “I don’t want you to mess up your shirt when you rub oil on me.”
“Good thinking,” he said.
I grabbed the baby oil from his hand and tossed it aside so I could slip off his shirt. Now my turn. Finally, I’d get to shed my clothes.
“Unbutton your blouse,” he said, breathing heavily.
I thoroughly enjoyed stripping down in front of a man. Watching him watch me, I started with the last button and worked my way up, slowly, sensuously, my hips swaying. When I revealed my bra, he bit his lip. And what luscious lips they were. Pushing my white blouse off one shoulder, and then off the other, I let the filmy fabric flutter to the floor.
He stared open mouthed at my bra. “Lavender. The color of wisdom and creativity.”
“Is it? It’s my favorite color.”
He nodded as he reached behind me, unzipped my skirt and let it fall next to my blouse. I kicked off my high heels, standing there in my lace bra and tiny matching thong. When was the last time a man had seen me naked? Too damn long. Way too long. I parted my thighs. “Touch me.”
“Not yet.” He twined his fingers through my hair, and I moaned. “Like I said earlier, I’m going to teach you patience.”
“You’re such a tease.” I nuzzled his neck.
“I’m not teasing. I mean it. Good things come to those who wait.” He placed extra emphasis on the word come.
How much more denial could I take? My body felt as if it would catch fire. He was turning it into a game and enjoying it. Now he was the teacher and I was the student. Talk about unexpected.
And thrilling.
Go along with it, Jenna. Enjoy it. With the deft fingers of one hand, he unhooked my bra, and then removed it one strap at a time, as if unwrapping a precious gift.
“You’re flawless,” he said, drinking in my breasts.
The raspberry tips begged to be touched. I arched my back, pressing myself against his bare chest. Justin picked up the bottle of baby oil, dribbling some into his palm.
“Turn around.”
I did as he said, facing the partition, enjoying the long bold strokes of his fingers against my shoulder blades and neck. My muscles sang. My knees threatened to buckle. I wanted to touch myself, slip my fingers into my wet pussy and rub my clit until I came. In this position, it would be so easy for him to push his cock inside me. I’d come in seconds.
“Face me.”
Giddy with pleasure, I turned again. I hungered for him, desperate for him to cup my breasts and suckle my nipples. Rubbing more oil between his palms, Justin stared into my eyes. As if reading my mind, he squeezed my breast, and swirled his tongue around the pointed tip. Eagerly, he sucked, and I moaned in ecstasy.
“Pinch them,” I said. “Lightly.”
His index fingers and thumbs poised over my nipples. Quickly, he pinched them. The sensation traveled downward and exploded in my clit. I stifled a cry.
With the wall at my back, I felt deliciously trapped. Using both hands, Justin applied oil to my neck. His palms slid to my breasts, to my flat belly, stopping at my thong. He repeated the movement, but this time his fingers dipped an inch into my thong, remaining there for several seconds.
“Oh yes.” I bit my lip.
A third time, his hands followed the same path, stopping at my cleft, where my clit ached for him.
“Touch me.” I wanted him inside me so badly. His teasing drove me mad. “Please touch me.”
“No.”
No? Christ, he had me begging and still said no? If he didn’t touch me soon, I’d break apart like shattered glass. I better take over for a while. Placing both hands on his shoulders, I pressed downward. “Kneel. Take off my thong before you get oil all over it.” Having a man at my feet turned me on like nothing else.
Justin succumbed to the pressure, momentarily taken off guard by the fact that he no longer had the upper hand. Down on his knees, he looked at me as if worshipping a goddess. My fingertips brushed his cheek. Hooking his thumbs into the sides of my thong, he slipped it off, and I stepped out of it. He held the material to his nose and breathed in.
“Kiss my pussy.”
“You’re getting ahead of yourself.”
Damn. He kept taking charge. “Kiss it.”
The fine hairs in his beard prickled as he nuzzled my neatly trimmed mound. I resisted the urge to grab his hair and shove his face into my pussy.
“Patience, Jenna.” He gazed at me in adoration. “We’re only at step three.”
“We can skip step three.”
“Afraid not,” he said in mock disappointment, standing up. “Now you have to stand very still while I pour alginate over you.”
Oh God, he really knew how to make a girl sweat it out, didn’t he? I might as well give up. “What’s alginate?”
“A powder made from seaweed. It’s hypoallergenic. I mix it with water, and once it reaches the consistency of pancake batter…” He paused to lick his lips. “I pour it over your beautiful breasts. The sculpture will only be of your torso, so I’m covering you from chin to hips.”
“You won’t reconsider skipping step three so I can pin you to the floor, will you?” I suggested. “Ho
w about if I offer you a spectacular blowjob?”
“Not yet.” He kissed me below the ear, his hot breath driving me wild. “I’m crazy about you, Jenna. When you were my teacher, I fantasized about you over and over and over. You have no idea how many hard-ons you gave me. I saw you almost every day, but I could never touch you. I want this time with you to last.”
Barely in control of my senses, I nodded. Justin walked over to his five-gallon buckets, looking sinfully hot in his jeans and nothing else. Patience, I said to myself, forcing the flaming desire in my flesh to cool down. He’s worth the wait.
While he spent a few minutes measuring powder and water, I removed my gold chain, tidied up our clothes and folded them neatly into a pile on the only chair in the entire room. Justin picked up a power drill, added an extension and submerged the tip in the bucket, stirring the white goo to a creamy texture. Muscles rippled under his skin. Sunlight danced on his hair, dappling it in shades of honey-gold and caramel. How did he stay so focused when I could barely keep from unzipping him with my teeth?
“Done.” He wiped his arm against his forehead.
Sweat sheened his chest. I imagined running my tongue down his abs, tasting the saltiness of his skin. “Time for me to pose?”
“Yes.”
I got into position against the partition, making sure I was comfortable.
“Exquisite. Don’t move. This will feel cold. You have to remain motionless for twenty to thirty minutes.”
“No problem.” Yeah right. “If I have to wait much longer, I’ll go up in flames. You know that, right?” Damn, he was counting on it.
“No worries.” He readjusted my arm. “I have a fire extinguisher in the kitchen.”
Justin used a small pail to scoop some of the putty-colored alginate. Instead of applying it with a brush like I thought he would, he used his bare hands, taking a handful of the goop from the pail and slapping it on my skin.
I inhaled sharply. My nipples hardened. “Cold.”
“So I noticed.” He stared at my breasts while he spread the substance evenly, smoothing it all over me. “I need to pat it down a bit to coax the air bubbles out.”
ArtofDesire Page 2