by Jaci Burton
“I’ll get over it,” she said with a half-smile and a shrug. “And I’ll get everything, too.”
Well, at least she had a sense of humor about it. She was easy to talk to, and right now anything was better than being alone with his own thoughts.
A soft jazz tune sprang up from the jukebox. Brett decided it was time to test the waters. One woman was just as good as another, right? He turned to the woman and held out his hand. “My name’s Brett.”
“Nice to meet you, Brett. I’m Gail,” she said in return, sliding her hand into his.
“Would you like to dance, Gail?”
Her eyes lit up like emeralds and she smiled. “I thought you’d never ask.”
Two hours later he had Gail in his car, wondering what the hell he was doing.
No, that’s not quite right. He knew exactly what he was doing. Making a huge fucking mistake. Gail was three sheets to the wind, obviously lonely and horny. And he was being an asshole and taking advantage of it. Then again, she’d been the one who suggested they go back to his place.
Only she wasn’t the woman he wanted stretched out on his bed, naked and primed for fucking.
“Let’s go, babe,” Gail said, her legs splayed out in front of her, showing off the tops of her thigh-highs. Her tongue swiped over her full lips and she said, “I’m ready to get these clothes off.”
Any other guy would be eager as hell to get her into his house. But his blood ran cold at the idea. Disgusted, he turned the ignition back on. “Honey, I’ve just made a huge mistake. I’m sorry but I’m going to have to take you home.”
Hurt glistened in her widened eyes. “Why? Don’t you like me?”
So far tonight he’d hurt two women. Maybe he could go back to the bar and pick up another one, see if he could go for a triple.
Or maybe he could do the right thing and undo the mistake he’d almost made. He turned to her, gently drawing her skirt down over her thighs. “Gail, you’re a beautiful woman. You just picked the wrong man for a husband. And what you want to do with me is for all the wrong reasons.”
She snorted. “I just want to get fucked.”
He smiled and caressed her cheek, well knowing how pain could cause a person to do a lot of really stupid things. “No you don’t. You want to hurt your husband.”
She pulled the edges of her leather jacket closer together and sniffed. “So, what if I do?”
“This,” he said, pointing his finger to her then back to him, “isn’t really what you want.”
“You have no idea what the hell I want,” she muttered, looking down at her lap. “I thought you wanted me.”
“Give me your address and I’ll take you home. You deserve a lot better than me. You deserve a lot better than your husband. Go get sober and get your life together, Gail. Trust me, it’ll be worth it.”
After she mumbled her address, she promptly passed out.
Brett found her place, grabbed her keys from her purse and took her inside, depositing her on her sofa. That was as far as he’d dare go. He slipped the door closed and got back into his car, realizing what a mistake he could have made.
No, he didn’t just want any woman. And it didn’t matter how many women he met, dated or screwed in the future. He’d still only want Kaitlyn.
He was so fucked. If he ever thought he’d been on the road to recovery, he was dead wrong. He had simply traded one addiction for another.
Kaitlyn stood in the dressing room of Brett’s home studio, not at all in the mood to pose tonight. Admittedly, she had been surprised when he called her today. After he’d made his escape from her parents’ house a couple days ago, she was certain he never wanted to have another thing to do with her. His call and suggestion they meet to work on the portrait tonight had been a total shock.
Once again, she couldn’t figure him out. He blew hot and cold worse than a woman in the throes of raging PMS. Her first thought was to tell him he could take his painting and shove it, that she was tired of trying to decipher his ever-changing moods. But since the painting had been her idea in the first place, and it meant he did have the urge to paint, she couldn’t very well say no.
Now she stood staring at herself in the dressing room mirror, the silk robe covering her naked body. The last time they’d done this, she’d ended up in his bed having the wildest sex of her life. What would happen tonight? Most likely he’d paint her, not say a word, and then send her home.
Fine. If that’s the way he wanted to play it. She was tired of throwing herself at him. Or at least that’s what she had to keep reminding herself. After all, a little self-respect was in order here. And his brush-off hurt, dammit. She could only handle so much rejection before she had to admit defeat.
Armed with as much self-dignity as she could muster, she opened the door and found him waiting beside the easel, paintbrush in hand. Tonight he wore gray sweats and a sleeveless shirt that showed off way too much of his muscled arms and shoulders.
She decided to ignore him. And since she no longer had anything to hide, she stepped to the chaise, slid the robe off and tossed it on one of the nearby tables. He arched a brow but didn’t say a word as she positioned herself on the chaise, then stared at him, waiting for him to start.
Though she did catch the darkening of his eyes, the hot gaze he couldn’t disguise before he slipped behind the canvas and began to paint.
Okay, so he wasn’t immune. Good. She hoped he suffered terminal hard-ons for the rest of his natural life.
She posed until her body went numb, absorbing the quiet of the room. The only sounds were Brett’s brushstrokes on the canvas and him occasionally asking if she was comfortable.
No, she wasn’t comfortable. She was naked in front of a man who a few short days ago had taught her more about her own body than she’d ever known. And she still wanted him, wanted his hands, his mouth and his cock on her and in her, painting her body with strokes of utter pleasure.
Her nipples tightened. She knew they were erect but could do nothing to stop her wayward thoughts. The sounds of brush against canvas made her imagine Brett taking the soft paintbrush and stroking it around her nipples, then drawing a swirling trail over her belly and lower. Her clit throbbed as she envisioned him taking that brush and drawing featherlight circles over the tight bud. She moaned, unable to hold it back before it spilled from her throat.
Brett peered around the easel. She met his gaze with one of dark hunger and a need she couldn’t deny to herself, let alone to him.
Tension filled the room as he stood and stared at her. Unable to help herself, she rose from the chaise and approached him, her body on fire, torching her from the inside out. Only his touch could douse the flames. Her senses told her he wanted her, but he wasn’t moving fast enough for her.
Okay, so she had no self-respect. But dammit, she loved him! And when had she ever given up until the last flame of hope had been doused?
“I need you, Brett.”
“I’m painting,” he said, his voice low and husky. His words didn’t match his voice, or the way his eyes sparked and flamed with the desire she saw evidenced in the erection straining his zipper.
“Then paint me.” Her hands rose to her breasts, her fingers swirling around the globes. “Take a paintbrush and paint my body, Brett. That’s what I’ve been thinking about for the past two hours.”
She watched the bob of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed, saw the need burning in his eyes. She reached for him, but he caught her wrist in his hand before she could touch his face.
“Stop.”
She shuddered and watched him hurry from the room, then turned away, the heat of desire melting into a hot flush of embarrassment. Once again she’d made an utter ass of herself with him. At least the last time he hadn’t run when she pushed. This time he’d left the room.
How long was she going to go on being stupid? She wasn’t the kind of woman who threw herself at a man. Ever. Yet she had no shame where he was concerned. What was wrong with her anyway
?
Tangling her fingers in her hair, she combed it away from her face and went to pick up the silk robe she’d tossed on the table earlier. She was about to slip her arms into it when she heard Brett.
“Stop.”
Clutching the robe in her hands, she spun around to face him, about to tell him he didn’t have to worry about her trying to seduce him ever again. But her jaw dropped as he approached.
He held a thick, soft-bristled paintbrush in one hand, a jar of something dark in the other. He set the items on the table and snatched the robe from her hand.
“You won’t be needing this,” he said, casting it to the floor before walking right past her.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
He didn’t answer, just pulled a white sheet from a shelf in the back of the room and laid it down over a foam mat laid out in the center of the floor. Then he turned to her and held out his hand. “Come here.”
Too curious to resist, she approached him, surprised when he pushed her gently onto the mat.
“Lie down on your back and don’t move.”
Her heart pounded as she watched him retrieve the paintbrush and jar. He set them on the floor next to the mat and stood, this time removing his shirt and jeans until he was as naked as she was. His cock was already thick with his erection, the ridged veins and flared head an aroused, angry purple. Joy and desire spread through her, filling her with elation and a desperate need to feel his body against hers. He knelt against the edge of the mattress, keeping his gaze on her face while he picked up the jar and unscrewed the lid.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Giving you what you asked for.”
“And what’s that?”
“Painting you.”
Oh, God. “What kind of paint is that?”
His lips curled into a wicked smile that devastated her insides. “It’s not paint, cher.”
Not paint? She tilted her neck up to read the label, her eyes widening. “Where did you get that?”
“You think I don’t have fantasies about you, Kait? That I haven’t thought about taking a brush to your skin and painting you, then licking it off inch by inch until you’re screaming for me to fuck you? I bought this today. It’s amazing how in tune our minds are, isn’t it?”
Desire shot between her legs, coiling like a snake in her womb and firing off hot shots of electrical pulses that made juices pour from her pussy.
Chocolate body paint. Good God in heaven, he was going to drive her mad!
Beyond that, hope surged within her heart, pounding away at her until she was forced to ask herself if maybe this time he had seen the light. Had he really given up the fight and decided to recognize what was between them?
She pushed the thought to the back of her mind. Now was not the time to ponder their relationship. Not when he dipped the brush into the chocolate and pulled it out, then held it over her belly.
A thin trail of chocolate beaded in her navel before he lowered the brush to her rib cage. The bristles were incredibly soft, not at all what she expected. He drew a pattern across her ribs, then dipped the brush in the chocolate again, this time sweeping it under one breast and drawing a circle around the aching globe. She shivered at the warm chocolate oozing over her skin. When he drew the brush over her nipple, she moaned, her cunt pulsing with the need to feel him inside her. He lingered at the hard tip of one crest, sweeping the bristles back and forth until she wanted to scream.
The chocolate warmed as it touched her body. She flamed when he bent down and covered one crest with his lips, teasing his tongue over the hard bud with light flicks back and forth. When he drew back, he took her mouth, letting her taste the sweet chocolate mingled with his own unique flavor. She slid her tongue along his lips and licked up every drop, loving the texture of his tongue and mouth against hers.
She could kiss him for hours, but he moved away and gathered more chocolate, this time painting down her hips and outer thighs, then curving toward her inner thighs. Her skin prickled with goose bumps, anticipating where he would go next.
“Spread your legs for me, baby,” he said, his voice tight. His cock brushed against her thigh, dipping into the chocolate he’d painted there. She shuddered at the feel of him rocking against the thick syrup. His cock was hot against her skin. She wanted to taste him, engulf both his shaft and the body paint together in her mouth.
She was about to lean up and capture his cock in her hand, but Brett took that moment to paint a swirl of chocolate over her clit, the brush teasing the throbbing bud with the softest of strokes. Her head slammed against the mat and she fisted the sheet, letting him brush back and forth over the sensitive bundle of nerves until she couldn’t stand it any longer.
“Brett, please.”
“You’re right. That’s enough.” He set the jar and brush on the floor and leaned over her his tongue tracing the pattern of swirls, starting with the pool in her navel. He dipped his tongue inside and scooped up the chocolate, swallowing and licking his lips before descending on her ribs.
She was on fire and trembling from the scorching heat of his tongue. Everywhere he’d painted, he licked. From the underside of her breasts to the sharp points of her distended nipples. He lingered at each nipple, lapping at her like a cat given a treat of cream. She tangled her fingers in his hair and held him there while he suckled and nibbled until she cried out, the intensity of pleasure shooting straight to her core.
She needed more. So much more than just kissing and nibbling. She needed to be filled by his hot cock, feel it powering up inside her so deep his balls would bang against her ass. And she needed that now.
“Brett,” she pleaded, near breathless with need. “Fuck me.”
His low chuckle made her shiver in anticipation. “Not yet, ma petite sorcière. I need to clean up this paint first.”
He slipped between her legs, capturing her gaze as his hands slid under her buttocks, tilting her sex toward his waiting mouth. He smiled up at her, then blew a soft breath of air against her clit.
In response, her magic fired up and cast a cool breeze over their bodies, ruffling his hair. He grinned and covered his lips over her slit, licking in rapid strokes with the flat of his tongue, lapping up the juices that spilled from her.
His tongue was as soft as the paintbrush, but oh-so much hotter as he seared her sensitized skin with swirling movements that set her right on the edge of climax in mere seconds.
She tensed, wanting to hold back, but the pressure built with each swipe of his tongue over her heated sex. When he slipped two fingers into her liquefied cunt, her pussy went into spasms and gripped his flesh, holding tight while she bucked her hips in a stormy orgasm she couldn’t prevent.
He continued to pump his fingers into her while she rode out the waves of her climax. His mouth teased and taunted her clit with light, feathery strokes until she was damp with sweat and drenched in her own cream.
And still it wasn’t enough. She closed her eyes and fought for breath, her body quaking with the need to be filled.
Her eyes shot open when she felt a flood of warm wetness over her breasts and belly. Brett leaned over her, pouring the contests of the jar of chocolate onto her skin.
She laughed when he put the jar down and then slid up her body, his tongue tracing a path in the copious amounts of chocolate covering her torso. By the time he was face-to-face with her, his face was dripping in chocolate. It coated his nose, his chin, drops of brown syrup falling from his hair.
He’d never looked sexier. She smiled and reached for his head, cupping the back and drawing his mouth down to hers. His body covered hers, the squish of chocolate oozing down her sides. She devoured his mouth, tasting again the sweet mix of chocolate and Brett.
But the sweetest of all was his hard cock brushing between her folds, seeking entrance to her drenched pussy. She spread her legs and lifted her hips and he drove inside her with one hard thrust. Her whimper was absorbed by his mouth, his tongue tangling
with hers as he powered hard against her flesh.
“Oh, yeah,” he said, bracing up on his palms so she could look up and watch his cock disappear between her legs. “You like watching, baby?”
“Yes. Oh, yes.” In fact, she craved an even better view than the angle he presented to her.
He must have read her mind, because he withdrew and sat up, pulling her onto his lap. “Straddle and fuck me. We’ll both watch this way.”
She wrapped her legs around his hips and slid down over his cock, the angle enabling her to watch each thick inch disappear between her engorged pussy lips. Feeling and seeing at the same time was heaven. Brett leaned back on his palms and rocked his hips up, his cock appearing and disappearing. Her pussy lips gripped his shaft as he withdrew, as if desperately trying to hold him inside her.
Chocolate ran in rivers down her breasts and belly, dropping onto the sheet and their legs. She didn’t care. Her mind and body focused on the exquisite sensations of his cock head striking that sensitive tissue just inside her pussy. Angled as he was, he rubbed her G-spot with every stroke, taking her closer and closer to the edge again. Only this time, she’d wait for him, if she could hold on that long. His cock was so thick, filling her completely, that each thrust brought about a painful pleasure that made her bite her lip and squeeze her buttocks to keep from coming. Brett was relentless, powering in and out with expert finesse, using just the right rhythm to stroke her sensitized tissues into a frenzy.
But as she caught his gaze, saw the desire flaming in his eyes, she knew he was as close to the edge as she was.
“Please, Brett,” she whimpered. “Now, please.”
“You want my cum, baby?” he asked, his eyes hooded.
The floor rumbled as thunder crashed around them. She gripped his arms and slammed against his shaft, needing more pressure, more intensity. “Yes, please come in me.”
“Take it, cher.” He tunneled harder, faster, his cock scraping her clit when he pushed her onto her back without once losing his connection inside her. “Come for me now, Kait.”