Chapter 9 #2
“Really? That was fast.” He pushed up from the ground and strode over to her. Coming around the easel, he said over her shoulder, “You sure you’re done?”
“It’s not finished finished. It’s just the outline,” she said. She picked up the brush. “Now I have to flesh it out with the actual paint.”
A strong arm looped around her waist. “Speaking of flesh… I seem to be the only one showing some here,” Jamal murmured against her neck.
“Hey, you’re the one who offered to strip.”
“I think you should return the favor.”
“I know you don’t think you’re gonna get me to strip out here,” she said.
“You wanna bet?” he asked, and snaked a hand inside her shirt.
Phil disengaged from his hold and sidestepped him. “Keep back,” she warned, holding him off with her paintbrush.
“Or what?”
“Don’t try me,” she said.
He took a step forward, and she brandished the brush like a saber. When he took a second step, Phil lashed out with the brush, sweeping a stroke of green paint across his pectorals.
Jamal’s eyes darted down at his chest and then back up at her. “I can’t believe you did that,” he said.
“I warned you,” Phil said, a giggle bubbling up in her throat.
“Oh, you’re in for it.”
She let out a yelp as he dived for her. She scuttled around the meadow, still wielding her paintbrush in his direction. She made a full circle before Jamal caught up with her, back underneath the tree. He wrapped both arms around her, imprisoning her in his strong embrace.
“Stop it.” She laughed. “I told you to stay back.” She managed to swipe another swath of green, this time on his arm.
Jamal tightened his hold, locking her against his hard body. “If you wanted to use my body as a canvas, all you had to do was ask,” he whispered into her ear.
His suggestion shot a naughty tremor down her spine. Phil glanced back at him over her shoulder.
“Really?” she asked.
That sexier-than-sin smile curved up the corners of his mouth. Jamal released her and walked over to the easel. Retrieving the palette, he sauntered back to where she stood and held it out to her.
Phil took it from him and looked on in mute fascination as he reclined on the patch of flattened grass where he’d lounged earlier.
“Well?” he said, one brow spiked in cocky challenge.
Palette in one hand and brush in the other, Phil dropped to her knees. “What do you want me to paint?” she asked, the brush hovering just above his shoulder.
Jamal cocked his head to the side. “You know what? I’ve changed my mind.” He sat up and plucked the palette and brush from her hands. “It’s my turn to paint. Strip.”
She regarded him with a stern frown. “I told you I was not getting naked.”
“Strip,” he said again.
The force of that single word, combined with all the sexy implications that accompanied it, sent a rush of heat skittering across her skin.
Was she really going to do this?
Apparently so. Despite the apprehension that threaded through her bloodstream, Phil took off her shirt and unsnapped her shorts.
“That’s it,” Jamal encouraged her.
“I cannot believe I’m doing this,” she said as she lifted her hips and drew the shorts over them. Moments later she lay before him in her hot-pink bikini-cut cotton panties and matching bra.
“Am I wearing underwear?” he asked. “As sexy as that looks on you, you need to take off the rest.”
Goosebumps traveled up and down her arms, but Phil obeyed, reaching behind her back and unhooking the bra’s single eyehook. She hunched over slightly and let it fall from her chest, the soft cotton causing her overly stimulated skin to pebble as it slid down her arms.
She heard the deep breath Jamal sucked in. He nodded, his gaze centered on her breasts.
“The last piece,” he ordered her.
Phil lifted her hips again and pulled her panties down her legs, tossing them next to her bra. “You happy now?” she asked.
“You’ll know just how much in a minute,” he said.
Her eyes drifted to his lap, where the evidence of his happiness was gradually swelling.
He knelt next to her and said, “Lie back.”
Dipping the brush in the paint, he trailed a line of sky blue down the valley between her breasts.
It traveled along her stomach, causing her belly to tremble involuntarily.
Jamal circled the tip of the brush around her belly button before continuing down, stopping at the neatly trimmed thatch of hair.
He pulled his lower lip between his teeth as he seemed to contemplate his next move. He added more paint to the brush and returned to her upper body, looping the brush around the base of her right breast.
Her eyes fluttered closed as Jamal lowered his head and pulled her puckered nipple into his mouth. Phil let out a soft moan, her back arching at the contact to her sensitized skin.
He repeated the process on the other breast, drawing a circle around the base before dipping his head and laving her with his tongue. His teeth grazed her nipple, then he sucked it into his mouth, tugging with a delicious pull that shot straight to the spot between her legs.
“More,” she said. She felt his rumble of laughter vibrate across her skin.
“You just love issuing orders, don’t you?”
“What?” Phil asked, her forehead creasing in a quizzical frown.
“More. Harder. Deeper. You were like a drill sergeant last night.”
Her entire body flushed with embarrassment. “Did I really say those things?”
He nodded. “I think it’s sexy.”
She smiled up at him. “Well, get to work,” she told him.
Jamal set the brush and palette on the grass and climbed over her.
Hovering above her on all fours, he returned his attention to her breasts, stroking the tips with his tongue.
He brushed his lips down her right side, peppering her ribs with kisses, nipping her hip with a gentle love bite.
He moved lower, capturing her knees and pushing them apart.
Phil’s stomach pulled tight as the spot between her legs pulsed with anticipation.
Lifting herself up on her elbows, she peered down as Jamal lowered his head between her legs.
She let out a small cry at the first wet swipe of his tongue.
With unforgiving relentlessness, he worked his tongue up and down, pleasuring her with every decadent stroke.
He swirled the tip around her clitoris, flicking in rapid succession before drawing it between his lips.
Phil clutched his head in her hand and cried up at the sky, lifting her lower body off the ground and giving herself over to his demanding tongue. Tremors racked her as the orgasm that had been building erupted.
She fell limply back into the trampled grass, her limbs relaxing in satisfied relief.
The butterflies in her belly started swarming again as Jamal traveled back up her body, dropping light kisses along her torso.
He hovered over her, smears of blue paint tracking across his chest from where he’d rubbed against her.
“What does the drill sergeant want me to do next?” he asked.
Phil contemplated his question for a moment before saying, “Lie down.”
He complied, mirroring her pose in the grass. She summoned the strength to push herself up and reached for the brush and palette, but Jamal caught her arm and shook his head.
“I think we’ve done enough painting for today,” he said.
“What is it you want me to do, then?”
The gleam in his eye told her exactly what he wanted.
Nervous excitement trembled low in her belly. There were certain things she didn’t do with a man unless she trusted him implicitly. She wasn’t sure when she’d begun to trust Jamal, but she did. And she wanted to do this for him.
He rose on one elbow and cradled her cheek in his palm. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to, Phylicia.”
She captured his hand and removed it from her face, brushing her lips across the back of his fingers. Then, with a hand to his chest, she eased him back onto the grass.
Jamal’s eyelids lowered halfway, and a slightly dazed look came over his face as she straddled his lower legs. Phil licked her lips before she bent over and pulled his thickening erection into her mouth. She heard his swift intake of breath, felt the shudder that quaked through him.
With unhurried movements, she worked her mouth up and down the length of him, running her tongue along the ridge of skin that rimmed the head, licking the spurt of pre-cum that dripped from the tip.
She relaxed her jaws so she could open wider, lowering her head until he hit the back of her throat, then sucking hard as she glided her mouth back up.
Jamal cupped her head as he guided her up and down. His eyes shut tight, he pitched his head back, his groans echoing around the vacant meadow.
“Phylicia,” he said with a strained whisper.
Phil drew him into her mouth over and over again, giving extra attention to the smooth head, wrapping her tongue around it. She sensed his balls drawing tight and, moments later, felt the rush of salty liquid hit the back of her throat as he erupted in her mouth.
“Damn,” Jamal breathed. He pulled in several deep breaths, his chest rising and falling. “That was a hell of a lot better than watching you paint.”
Phil grinned as she enveloped his softening erection in her palm. She glided her hand up and down his smooth length, a heady sense of power building within her as she felt it grow hard again.
She lowered her head to take him into her mouth once more, but Jamal stopped her.
“No,” he said. “In my pocket. There’s a condom in my wallet.”
Phil reached for the shorts he’d shucked off earlier and lifted the wallet from the back pocket.
She opened it and pulled out a condom. Tearing the packet open, she rolled the latex down his now-stiff erection, her hands shaking.
She straddled his hips and, like a woman desperate for her next breath, sank onto him.