26. Critique and Protection
CRITIQUE AND PROTECTION
Fuck. Now I know how she felt when I stared at her painting for way too long.
It’s the same way I feel as I ponder how I’m going to show her my piece.
It’s nowhere near as good as her paintings.
I think the last time I picked up a paintbrush was junior year of high school for a mandatory credit and it shows.
But it was relaxing. More cathartic than I ever thought it would be.
But as I look at my painting, I realize how brave Kate was to show me hers to begin with.
Of course, hers looked realistic, mine is definitely more abstract, maybe she won’t even see what I meant or what I was feeling when I created it.
I clear my throat. “I’m done.”
“Can I see?” she asks.
“You first,” I say and she smiles, standing up from where she was sitting on the floor and turns her canvas.
I can’t help but let out a laugh. It’s her orange cat, only he looks like he belongs on the high seas with his pirate hat, eye patch, and sword with the ocean in the background.
Beyond the humor, it’s well done, it looks exactly like her cat in a non-cartoony way.
I swallow as I turn the easel around, and she takes a few steps closer. Her analytic gaze searches over my painting, and she just stares for a long moment.
“I’m not an artist, but I had fun making it,” I say, trying to make sure I don’t sound insecure. The last fucking thing I want is her changing her mind about what she said about me earlier when I saw her painting of Ben and I.
She thinks I’m confident and strong; I don’t want her perception of me to change.
“It looks like shit,” I say, going to grab the painting and turn it around but she grabs my hand.
“It doesn’t. This is you?” she asks as she points to the man sitting at the edge of the bed, his head in his hands. A looming shadow hovering over him.
I shrug and Kate hums.
“I would analyze it as anxiety following you, fears, stress?”
“Something like that.”
“Always so mysterious,” she hums, tapping her chin.
“The composition is great, and so are your proportions. The message is clear. It makes you feel something, it makes you contemplate what it’s about. What was the artist feeling? Are they taking in their surroundings or showing something within themselves?”
“So what was Mikey as a pirate supposed to represent?” I ask, trying to bring some levity into the situation.
“That he’s handsome and a little naughty when he wants to be, of course. Not all art has to have a powerful message. Sometimes inciting happiness in the viewer is all you need. I’d say I accomplished that, just like you accomplished making me feel something.”
“I made you feel something?” I ask.
Her big blue eyes are locked in on mine and I feel like she sees me. All the shitty pieces I try to hide behind one-night stands and pretending I don’t give a fuck.
“Something like that,” she says.
It all feels like too much and all I want to do is cut and run, go the fuck back home, and not worry about her seeing too much.
Not stress about her being home alone at this house while that prick is out there doing god knows what.
But I can’t, I won’t. I’m trapped here and I’m not sure how to handle it.
Like she sees right into my insecurities, she grabs my wrist.
“Would you be open to a different kind of art?”
“I’m not sure I have it in me,” I admit, hating the idea of being even more vulnerable tonight.
“I promise it’ll be a lot more fun. I bought this stuff a while ago but haven’t trusted anyone to try it with,” she says, dragging me by my hand to her bedroom and then into her closet where she begins rifling through some boxes.
“Have you ever played with wax?” she asks, shocking me.
“Twice. I forgot that was on your list”
“So did I. I had more pressing matters at hand.”
“What kind did you get?” I ask, leaning down as she finally finds the box she was looking for.
“Oh, look, your favorite,” she says, handing me handcuffs and a blindfold. The handcuffs are more restrictive than the ones we played with at Avalon. She has a pair of nipple clamps and she cringes as she shoves those to the side. I suppose those are out.
“Here we go. I got three kinds. All of them are low melting points. Oh, this one is coconut and turns into a massage oil. These two are more for painting and peeling, and then this one…seems more advanced,” she says, tucking the last one away.
It’s late, far too late after spending so much time in her studio, but she’s giving me control. She knows I need it. Is it because she has similar urges of needing control?
I slide my hand into her hair, holding the nape of her neck and she sighs.
“How about I drip that coconut wax on your hot little body and give you a massage to help you relax, before I fuck your ass,” I suggest, accepting the fact she might say no, and I’d be fine with it.
Instead, she licks her lips with an enthusiastic yes.
“Towels, lube, a small vibrator, and a hair tie,” I tell her.
She blinks at me a few times. “A hair tie?”
“Do you want wax in your hair?” I ask and she smiles, shaking her head.
“Good, then go get everything,” I tell her, and she’s quickly on her feet, going to collect everything we need. “Oh, where’s your lighter?” I shout as she’s in the hallway.
“Nightstand.”
I open the nightstand and find not only the lighter, but two other crucial items I requested.
I press the button on the side of the small bullet and appreciate that she had the foresight to charge her toys.
I place the lighter, toy, and lube on the nightstand as Kate walks into the bedroom, face flushed and a stack of towels in her arms.
We strip her bed down to the sheets and one pillow before protecting everything with a layer of towels.
I read the back of the candle quickly, and light the wick, knowing it’s going to need about ten minutes to melt enough wax.
“Hair tie?” I question Kate.
“Oh,” she says, holding out her wrist.
I slide the elastic off her slender wrist, sliding it on to mine, before fisting a handful of her shirt and dragging her toward me to kiss her. I told Ben that it wasn’t that deep, that I only kiss Kate because I like it.
I’m a fucking liar. Especially after tonight.
When I kiss Kate, I feel light. I feel like someone’s favorite, and I can’t even stop myself.
She makes me feel needed; I love the idea of protecting her.
She likes the same things I like, while also showing me new things.
What we did tonight, the moment of peace we shared while creating art, had me feeling more unguarded than I've been in a long time.
I don’t hate it as much as I thought I would.
Am I scared shitless? Fuck yeah. This small, smart, complicated woman has the power to destroy me and my brother, but I also think she’s capable of doing much more, and I think I’m going to let it play out.
Maybe I can fuck her into liking me. Maybe she’s feeling the same way I am. That this could be more, and fuck if I know what that looks like, but I’m not going to think about it too much right now.
At this moment, I’m going to put that all to the side and give her what she wants and what I need.
Her tongue tangles with mine as her wrists rest against my neck, her fingers playing with the soft ends of my hair.
I part the kiss briefly to lift her shirt over her head.
A simple white sports bra covers her chest, her hard nipples straining against the fabric.
I drag my thumb against the bud, before gripping the elastic and she helps me pull it over her head.
My thumbs trail down her abdomen until I press her shorts down.
“No panties? This whole time?” I joke.
She shrugs and I take a moment to admire her body, every single inch that I want to kiss, own, and please.
I lean down, the scruff of my jaw brushing lightly against the softness of her cheek. “Turn around,” I tell her.
She immediately complies, and I glance down at her ass, not able to control myself as I grab a handful of the soft flesh, kneading her ass. Knowing I’ll be leaving my marks all over her tonight.
I brush my fingers through her hair, not really knowing what the fuck I’m doing. In theory, I thought it would be attractive to put her hair up, but now that I have her thick strands in my hand, I have no fucking clue what I’m doing.
I bundle her hair to the best of my ability and stretch the band around it a few times. It looks like shit, and when I turn her back around, I have to bite my lip to not burst out into laughter.
“What?”
“I’ve never put a woman’s hair up in my life. I have all brothers, your hair looks insane.”
She pats her head, feeling all the lumps and loose hairs, giving me a smile before pulling out the tie and redoing it, making it look completely effortless.
“Better?”
“Better, now face down ass up on the bed,” I say, swatting at her ass making her laugh.
It feels lighter than all the other times we’ve been together, comfortable, more intimate as she seductively climbs onto the bed, making sure to not shift the towels too much as she lies down flat, her pert ass and delicate back on display as I glance over at the candle.
Since it turns into an oil, I’m not worried about my body hair, and I undress completely. If we use the other wax that hardens, I’ll have to be careful, but it’s all up to what Kate wants. Those have a higher heat point, and there’s a possibility she won’t even like this.
I run a hand down her spine, kissing her ass cheek, before grabbing the wax and testing a drop on my forearm. It’s warm, bordering on hot, almost like when you first get into a hot tub, but it’s soothing and smells strongly of coconut.
“You tell me if it’s too much?”
“Yes, sir,” she says.
As if my cock wasn’t already hard from the moment she showed me everything in the box she hides in her closet, it’s now aching. Pre-cum is leaking out of the tip as I hold the candle firmly and drip the small amount that’s melted between her shoulder blades.
Her muscles stiffen for a moment, before she goes completely pliant and I’m rubbing the warm rich coconut over her soft skin.
My thumbs drag around her tight back muscles, and she moans into the mattress with each press and roll of my fingers. I’m the reason all the tension is slipping away from her and why she feels safe. The feeling is heady and has me ready to come before I’m even inside of her.
“More?” I ask.
The oil is a little messy, and I’m glad we covered her bed as she nods into the towels and presses herself against my crotch.
I smack her ass, which only makes her do it again.
“Oh Katherine, the more you try to top from the bottom, the more I’ll make you wait for it,” I tell her, before dripping the melted wax on her skin. “God, this fucking ass.”
I knead her cheeks, rubbing in the oil and spreading her wide, looking at the hole she’s going to let me fuck. I want to make it as good for her as it will be for me.
Despite wanting to take what I want and fuck her until she’s begging to come, I take my time, repeating the same motions.
Her skin is shiny and slick with the oil and I can tell she’s desperate for more. While she’s enjoying my relaxing touch, a true release is what she really needs.
I want her more than I’ve ever wanted anyone else, I’ll just have to figure out how to make her want me and my brother in the same way.