The Body Painter (Master of Trickery Book 1)

by Pepper Winters

  I couldn’t get free.

  My only option was to open wide and let his tongue own mine. The kiss was explosive, like drinking pure dynamite. Our tongues were matches, striking fire, blistering every neuron.

  He thrust against me, pressing my back into the bench.

  I squirmed as my fingers clawed at his nape, holding on and sinking deep at the same time.

  Every lash of his tongue licked into my belly. My flesh swelled. My blood heated. Every part of me grew heavy and demanding.

  He crawled into me, almost breaking me in two as he held the back of my neck and kissed me so hard I struggled to breathe.

  I didn’t need oxygen.

  I kissed him back. Violence for violence. My body spinning itself into an aching mess, shivering and sick with the unbearable need to have him inside me.

  Our passion was lightning quick.

  A bolt of energy that turned us into animals.

  Tearing me from the kitchen bench, Gil stumbled toward the couch with me in his arms. He swayed to the side, dropping me to my feet. We didn’t make it to the furniture.

  We wrapped ourselves around each other, balancing in our drunken, lust-drenched world. Our lips found each other in another manic kiss that made my eyes roll and core clench.

  I’d never had such a crazy connection with another.

  Never wanted to hurt someone as much as I wanted to love them.

  His fingers scratched my nape as he held me tight and kissed me deep.

  Kissed me and kissed me.

  Kissed me as if making up for all the times he hadn’t kissed me in the past.

  My lips burned. My tongue ached. And my body was jealous.

  It wanted him everywhere, not just on my mouth.

  Gil dropped to his knees.

  For a second, I couldn’t figure out what happened. My lips smarted and turned cold. But then a loud moan fell from them as he fumbled at the zipper on my skirt, ripping it down to my feet.

  Cool air licked around my garter belt and stockings. After I’d showered, I’d put on fresh office clothes. I stupidly didn’t want him knowing I’d been home, when I should’ve come here straight from work.

  Perhaps, if I’d come here straight away, he wouldn’t be drunk.

  Maybe, if I hadn’t delayed, I could’ve saved him whatever new pain he suffered.

  I’d failed him.

  Gil sat back on his heels, his eyes hot and black with undiluted lust. “You’re killing me, O.” His hand trembled as he ran a finger right over my lingerie-clad pussy. “Killing me.”

  My legs buckled.

  He caught me, dragging me to the floor, pressing me onto my back as I kicked my skirt from my ankles.

  He didn’t ask for permission as he shot down my body and knelt between my spread legs. His jaw clenched as he pulled my knickers down and tossed them over his shoulder.

  My cheeks blazed as his gaze fixated on my bareness. The part of me he’d never seen, never touched, never tasted.

  And I had no shame as I spread my legs even wider, arching my back, begging him to finish what he started.

  His eyebrows knitted together. He swallowed hard and shook his head as if trying to convince himself this wasn’t a dream. This was real. So, so real.

  Without a word, he bowed over me and latched his mouth onto my heated pussy.

  I lost myself.

  My head dug into the floor as I writhed under his tongue.

  There was nothing slow or tentative about him.

  Gil licked me as if he’d wake up any second. He spread my folds and plunged his tongue inside me as if he’d owned that part of me his entire life.

  Every nerve ending combusted. Every cell shot down my body and gathered on my clit. And when Gil’s teeth found me, biting the nub with a thinly veiled punishment, no other part of me existed.

  “Oh, God!” I squirmed as he buried his nose into me. Licking and nipping, a feral noise of ownership rumbled in the back of his throat.

  His fingers clawed their way up my inner thigh, finding my heat, then driving one deep inside me.

  I bowed off the floor.

  His free hand landed on my belly, pressing me down as his tongue swirled and his finger hooked with pleasure. A groan clawed through his chest as he bit my clit, inhaling and sucking.

  He didn’t give me time to adjust or accept.

  He merely took.

  “Do you know how long I’ve wanted to do this?” His voice was thick and rich, velvet and sandpaper.

  I broke out in goosebumps as his one finger became two. Both drove into me as far as they could go. His hand on my belly moved to dig under my ass, hoisting me up, pulling my pussy harder against his mouth. His tongue battled to enter me all while his fingers thrust with a possession that made everything else inconsequential.

  My body responded. How could it not? My stomach twisted, heart raced, and my core invited Gil’s invasion with droplets of silky desire.

  I didn’t care he was paint and dirt covered.

  I didn’t care this was a terrible, terrible idea.

  All I cared about was this.

  “So many times,” Gil groaned as he licked at my moisture. His fingers kept stroking, sending shockwaves through every limb. “So many fucking times I wanted you.”

  I panted as the mixture of me and his saliva tickled the insides of my thighs.

  I couldn’t reply, too caught up in his assault.

  “Olin...” Another finger joined his two, stretching me, plunging deep.

  I cried in bliss as he rocked his hand, his teeth punishing my clit. My heart bucked in a frenzy; the ground didn’t feel solid anymore. All I wanted to do was fall into him, onto him.

  I wanted his cock inside me.

  Tugging at his shoulders, I begged, “Gil...now. I need you. Now.”

  His glowing, furious eyes met mine. His mouth remained on my pussy, his fingers inside my body. Mud marked his cheekbone; a bruise shadowed his temple.

  His gaze kept me captured as he arched his fingers and sucked me hard. The painful, exquisite beginnings of an orgasm brewed in my belly. It teased down my legs, throbbing around Gil’s fingers.

  I bit my lip, fighting it off.

  But Gil smiled savagely and drove his fingers deeper. His breathing rasped as we never looked away from each other. He looked wild and untamed, totally unhinged with sex.

  And I couldn’t stop it.

  I couldn’t balance on the knife’s edge. Not when he looked into me. Not with his touch inside me.

  I gave in, throwing myself headfirst into the ricocheting bands of pleasure.

  I cried out as it ripped me apart.

  Each wave, Gil sucked me harder, thrusting his fingers, sending me higher, adding to the bliss. The power of it echoed in my teeth, stole my vision, and distorted my breath.

  On the final pulse of release, Gil soared up my body. His mouth glistened from licking me, his lips swollen with heat. He kissed me, slamming my head against the floor with the force.

  I kissed him back, loose and lost, swimming in the aftershocks.

  “I missed you.” He kissed me deeper. “Missed you every goddamn day.”

  My eyes flew wide.

  I struggled away from his kiss even as his fingers drove into me again, punishing oversensitive nerves.

  I searched his face, but his eyes held barriers, trapping his demons. His lips twisted as if he hadn’t meant to say such vulnerable things all while his fingers dominated me.

  He kissed me again, his mouth pressing hard, bestowing sensual affection layered with dark complication.

  He didn’t just kiss me.

  He poured devotion and bitterness down my throat. He wrapped us in history even while smashing apart time that had distanced us.

  “Why did you leave?” I whispered. The question was for a younger Olin. The one who’d been so happy and then so heartbroken by the boy who said he loved her.

  The hitch of his breath sent my heart roaring and the same sort of
hunger he’d attacked me with sat up nasty and needy in my veins. It didn’t matter why he left. Only that he did.

  Old anger and agony rose, and my fingernails scratched down his back, grabbing the hem of his hoodie and tugging it up his body.

  I trembled with the undeniable need to finish this. To have him naked and glued to me while he took everything that had always belonged to him.

  “Off,” I hissed. “I need this off.”

  Thoughts raced in Gil’s eyes, totally tangled and undecipherable. Why couldn’t I figure him out? Why couldn’t I learn his secrets all while he lay in my arms?

  His fingers withdrew from my body as he climbed to his feet. He stood over me, his blood still swimming with liquor, his clothing still filthy. Without a word, he tore his hoodie off, removed his T-shirt, and unbuckled his jeans while kicking off his boots.

  He didn’t waste time, shedding the items as if they were a hindrance he wanted to burn. His paint-speckled boots clattered by the couch as his zipper came apart and his jeans were torn from his legs.

  I sat up slowly, unbuttoning my blouse with trembling fingers.

  I couldn’t blink, drinking him in.

  It’d been a lifetime ago that I’d seen his naked chest, and he’d filled out since then. He rippled with etches and shadows, his stomach flat and carved with ridges. He didn’t have much hair; just a splattering between his pecs and a dark line disappearing into his black boxer-briefs, but it wasn’t the perfection of his body that entranced me.

  It was the wounds.

  Old scars, new bruises, ancient injuries, and fresh cuts.

  He looked as if he’d stepped through time and off a battlefield. His eyes matched the illusion, heavy with sorrow and hard with remorse.

  My heart kicked, wanting to protect him all while wanting to bow to him.

  Scrambling to my knees, I reached back and unhooked my bra. Gil sucked in a groan as I threw the lace away, revealing myself to him. He’d seen my breasts. He’d painted my nipples and airbrushed my cleavage.

  Yet the way he watched me made me feel like the most powerful creature in the world.

  Rubbing his mouth, he shook his head as if he still couldn’t believe this was real. His hand dropped to his cock. With a bite of his lip, he squeezed his erection, proud and encased in underwear. “I’ve dreamt of this, did you know that? Fantasied about fucking you so many times.”

  I didn’t move, panting as his thumbs hooked into his boxer-briefs and pulled them down.

  His mouth lined with regret. “I’ve had nightmares of losing you...hating myself for walking away.”

  My body broke out in hot desire. “You didn’t need to walk away.”

  “I did.” He hung his head as his cock sprang free, hard and long.

  “It doesn’t matter. We’re together now.”

  “There can’t be an us.” His voice twisted. “I shouldn’t do this. I should fucking have the strength not to do this.”

  “Maybe you’re right.” I swallowed. “But you don’t have a choice. We don’t have a choice.” Another orgasm spindled, heated and wet, just at the sight of Gil stripping. His unwanted boxers slid to his ankles, only to be kicked away to join his boots and socks.

  For the longest moment, he didn’t move. As if afraid I’d judge him, not want him.

  Terror filled me that he’d stop this. That whatever freedom he’d found thanks to alcohol wasn’t enough for us to finish this.

  But then, he closed the distance between us. Two swift, determined strides even as condemnation sketched his face. “Fuck, I want you.” He ducked and captured my cheeks, kissing me.

  Instead of accepting the kiss, I tore my face away. My hand shook as I reached for his cock, shivering at the hard steel of him as I tugged him closer.

  He grunted and tripped into me.

  His mouth opened to speak.

  But it was too late.

  His velvety heat was a trigger on my self-control.

  My lips encased his tip. I sat higher on my knees squeezing his hot length with my hand. My fingers latched tight and unforgiving, not asking for permission—just like he’d done to me.

  He’d owned me. Tasted me. Controlled me.

  It’s my turn.

  My eyes skated up over the furrows and hills of his stomach until I met his gaze. Gil shuddered as I pumped him into my mouth. The winter frost of his eyes blazed like wildfire, hinting that what I took as annoyance and anger were actually tightly reined need.

  He buckled with a will of iron.

  He didn’t give in to the urges beating him to submit—the urges between us. The urges that had always been there, despite our tempers.

  I stroked him again, sucking him deep.

  His head fell back, and his fingers threaded through my hair. He didn’t just hold me steady, he pulled me forward, pressing more of his cock into my mouth.

  Everything inside quivered. My wetness would’ve been embarrassing if I didn’t know Gil wanted me as much as I wanted him. I knew it in the tension in his muscles, the groan in his chest, the violence in his fingers.

  I opened wider, sucking his girth. My tongue lapped underneath as my fingers corkscrewed around him.

  I dared scrape my teeth along sensitive flesh, testing him.

  He thrust into me, rocking my body back. Tears flooded my eyes as his savage grunt made my insides clench on emptiness.

  Sucking him made me feel powerful. But I needed him inside me. Otherwise, I was going to lose my mind and never be able to function again.

  Pressing my legs together, I bobbed my head as my heated flesh made me moan. My jaw ached at his size, saliva trickling from the corner of my mouth as I continued to worship him.

  “Fuck—” He thrust harder as desperation to come bunched his thighs, and the salty taste of release grew stronger. He tugged my hair, his eyes tightly closed as his cock rippled in warning.

  I wanted to make him unravel. To come apart so I might have some chance at understanding him. I threw myself into pleasuring him, sucking him deeper still. Keeping my lips glued tight, I stroked, massaging my spit into his heat.

  Gil gasped, stumbling back as his ass clenched under my free hand. “Stop. Shit.” He grabbed his cock, pressing his thumb into the tip as if doing his best to prevent an orgasm.

  His eyes squeezed tight as his body shuddered. He bowed over himself, panting and tense.

  I waited.

  I fought against the urge to stroke myself and relieve the throbbing second release. I did my best not to be consumed by the very image of Gil naked with his cock in his hand.

  Time ticked strangely, my heartbeats tattered as Gil slowly straightened and towered over me. His face was furious, eyes blazing, his cock spearing upright from his gorgeously damaged body.

  I wanted to capture the moment. To remember it for always.

  Because who knew if I’d ever see him this way again.

  My hand migrated between my legs on its own accord. I moaned as I touched myself, teasing the pounding need for more.

  Gil’s attention snapped onto my display. His forehead furrowed as his chest rose and fell. “Christ, you truly want me to die.”

  I licked my lips. “I need you.”

  Our eyes locked and the viciousness of sex was replaced by the tenderness of love. He tensed. His head shook. He looked as if he’d rather rip out his heart than touch me in anger.

  But then the clouds gathered again, shoving him into blackness—a place of protection from his pain.

  Whatever this was, it wasn’t making love.

  This was darker.

  Gil swallowed back tender things, and pounced on me. “Get on all fours.” Slamming to his knees, he threw me around until I braced myself on four points. He deliberately faced me away so he didn’t have to see how much I cared. Didn’t have to fight the never-ending bond we shared.

  I understood.

  I accepted.

  I wanted.

  His hands caressed my spine and ass, massaging me,
spreading me. His touch slid to my tattoo and scars. “This goddamn ink. These awful scars.” His heady groan made me shiver as he dragged his nose along the base of my back. “To think of you hurt—” His teeth snapped together, silencing whatever else he wanted to say.

  His fingers kept stroking my tattoo, running along owl feathers and ostrich plumes. His touch wasn’t gentle, more like a fiery brand flaying me alive. “You’re not safe with me,” he hissed. “I’m putting you in danger.”

  My teeth bared in frustration, leaning back into his control. “I don’t care.”

  “I care.”

  “Just finish this, Gil.” A full body clench made me beg. “Please.”

  “Tell me to stop.” His breath scalded my back as he reared up behind me. “Please, God, tell me to stop.” His thighs met mine. His heat burned me. His cock wedged against my ass as he grabbed my hips and ran his length up my crack. “Tell me. Fuck, tell me.”

  My head hung between my shoulders. I dug fingers into the floor, rocking backward into him. “I won’t.”

  “I don’t have a condom.”

  “I’m on the pill.”

  He cursed under his breath. “I haven’t been with anyone in...a long time.”

  My heart squeezed. “Neither have I.”

  “I...I won’t put you at risk.” His teeth chewed the words as if conversation was getting harder and harder to manage.

  “Me either.” I rocked again, gasping at the temptation of having him so close to taking me.

  “You’ll regret this in the morning.” He groaned, pulling away and lining his cock up with my entrance. “I tried to warn you. Too bad you didn’t fucking listen.”

  He thrust.

  He entered me.

  He split me in two, condemned me, consumed me, sank deep, deep inside me.

  My arms buckled at the overwhelming euphoria of having Gilbert Clark—the boy who I’d dreamed about, cried over, wanted, and needed—finally fill me like he was born to do.

  The world spun on its axis, blending colours, bleeding futures, hurling us together.

  Gil snarled as he withdrew and thrust again. “Why do you have to feel so good?” He drove himself as deep as he could go. His voice traded human for monster. “Why the fuck did you have to come back into my life?”

  My tongue was too tangled and useless for words. I was nothing more than sin and sensation, riding him, tempting him, encouraging him to ignore boundaries and tear me apart.