Exposed - Chapter 28
Tuesday
Brooklyn
I stared at Matt as he traced the scar from my kidney surgery. The scar was a reminder of what my father had stolen from me. And I didn’t just mean my kidney. He’d also stolen my future with Matt.
The bright light in the room made the scar look worse. It made my stretch marks more pronounced too. I’d never felt so exposed.
“Did it hurt?” he whispered, his thumb lightly touching my scar like he might hurt me all over again.
He hadn’t shied away from any of the hard questions tonight. He didn’t get angry when I’d told him my stories about Miller. I knew he was trying to prove that he still knew me. All of me. But somehow this felt more momentous than the rest of it. Him staring at my scars and not turning away.
I nodded. He deserved to know the truth.
And I was done holding back pieces of my life from him.
I remembered the white room I was locked up in after the surgery.
And I remembered the pain in my chest more vividly than the pain from the surgery.
“It hurt. But not as much as my heart hurt thinking you’d moved on. ”
“Never, Brooklyn. I’m incapable of loving anyone but you.”
I believed him. I believed all of it. That he’d loved me then.
That he still loved me now. Despite everything.
We weren’t written in the stars. But my heart was bound to his.
Through everything. We were intertwined somehow.
I knew that. And I’d never seen it more clearly than I did right now.
As he leaned forward and kissed my scar.
“I love every inch of you.” He traced the rest of my scar with his lips.
My back arched even more.
“I’m going to make you my wife.” He touched my rings.
Rings I didn’t know how to take off. But I believed his words. I knew that whenever Matt wanted something, he got it. I’d pushed him away so much when we first met. But he’d won me over. And he was already doing it again. Not that he needed to. It was only my guilt making us not move forward.
His fingers traced my stretch marks. “I’m going to adopt your son.”
I swear my heart skipped a beat.
“We’re going to be a family.” He leaned forward and kissed a thin scar on the side of my thumb. “And it’s going to be perfectly imperfect.” His breath was hot on my skin. “What happened here?”
“When Jacob was a baby, I got distracted while I was baking. He was crying and…” my voice trailed off as he blew on it. Like he could take away the sting from the burn even though he was three years too late.
“I’m not 16 years old anymore either, Brooklyn. I know that real love is messy. I know I’m not untouchable.”
That’s what Daphne had told me. That Matt and his friends stopped calling themselves the Untouchables after I died. Because they realized that their money and prestige didn’t protect them from pain.
He leaned forward and kissed the outside corner of my eyes, where I knew I had a few laugh lines. His lips left a trail of kisses down to one of my breasts. “And these are bigger,” he said with a groan.
I laughed.
His eyes met mine as his tongue swirled around my nipple.
Jesus.
He lifted his mouth from my skin. “For 16 years I’ve been painting still images.” He grabbed his palette and put his palm in the center of it, smearing the paints. “I think true art is feeling your subject.” He pressed his wet palm down in the center of my chest.
I felt my heart beating rapidly against his hand.
“Every curve.” He spread the paint over my right breast. “Every dip.” He moved his hand down my stomach, leaving a trail of light blue paint. “Every scar.” His thumb gently brushed against my scar again.
His eyes locked with mine. “You’re different, Brooklyn. But you’re more beautiful than ever.”
I blinked back tears. But then I squealed as he moved forward, pressing my back against the floor.
“You know what else you should do besides touch your muse?” he whispered into my ear.
“No.”
“Taste.” He kissed down my stomach where there wasn’t paint, spreading more paint down the sides of my body with his hand. His mouth stopped between my thighs, his eyes locking with mine. His tongue slowly circled my clit.
Good God. I buried my fingers in his hair as he thrust his tongue inside of me. I’d never heard of tasting a muse before. But now I had no idea how anyone created art without doing this first. It seemed like a very important step to me.
“Do you still like when I do this?” he asked as his lips encircled my clit and he sucked hard.
“Matt,” I moaned.
“Say my name like that again.”
I laughed. “Matt.”
“No, that wasn’t it.” He moved his hands to my ass, pulling my pussy flush against his mouth. He feasted on me like he’d been starving for me for years.
“Matt,” I moaned again. God, I was so close.
“That’s better. Say it again when I make you come.”
“So cocky.”
He smiled against my skin. “Baby, all I need is 30 seconds.” His fingers dug in to my ass cheeks as he thrust his tongue even farther inside of me. He reached one hand up, palming my breast, smearing more paint across my skin.
He moved his other hand to my thigh, pressing the side of it into the paint.
We were making a terrible mess, but all I could think about was his tongue slowly circling my wetness.
Why had he slowed down? I just needed another few seconds of…
My train of thought drifted away as his mouth moved back to my clit. He sucked hard.
Fuck. My body started to tremble. I grabbed the sides of his head to hold him in place. Okay, he won. That couldn’t have been more than twenty seconds. He knew exactly what he was doing. He still knew my body just as well as he had when we were teenagers.
And I wanted to see him. I wanted to see how he’d changed. “My turn.” I clawed at the back of his shirt.
He laughed and pulled back. He grabbed his t-shirt by the nape of its neck and pulled it off. He didn’t seem to care that he’d just ruined it with paint. “Your turn for what exactly?” He raised his eyebrow at me.
I had every intention of returning the favor.
But first I wanted to explore his body. “It’s my turn to examine every inch of you.
” I pushed on the middle of his chest so he’d lie down.
I grabbed a tube of green paint but paused.
I pulled off the rings on my finger. I didn’t want to ruin them with paint.
But it felt more momentous than that as Matt stared up at me.
He’d wanted me naked. I’d never felt more naked than I did now without my rings.
And this felt momentous for me too. Showing him my scars. Letting him back in.
I set the rings down out of the way and squirted the paint on my hands.
I moved my eyes away from his face to his muscular shoulders.
“You were always strong. But you’re not a boy anymore.
” I leaned forward and placed my palms on his broad shoulders.
“You’re a man.” I let my hands trail down his biceps.
He just stared up at me. I was pretty sure he felt as exposed as I’d felt while he was painting me. On the canvas and on my skin.
I squirted some royal blue paint on his chest. “All of this is bigger.” I smeared the paint over his strong pecs. “It’s like armor.”
His Adam’s apple rose and fell as he stared at me.
“You’ve been at war with yourself. Not letting anyone in for 16 years.
Is it selfish that I’m glad you saved your heart for me?
That I’m relieved you waited for me to come back?
” I ran my fingers down his six pack, stopping at the waistband of his pants.
I traced his happy trail with my index finger.
“It’s only selfish if you keep tormenting me.”
I smiled down at him. “How am I tormenting you exactly?” I reached up and smeared paint across his cheek.
He grabbed my waist and flipped us over, pressing my back against the hard floor. I expected him to joke about how I was teasing him instead of wrapping my lips around his cock. But he looked more serious than I expected.
“I need it to be my ring on your finger.” He grabbed my hand and pinned it over my head. “I need you to take my last name.” He grabbed my other hand and pinned it next to the first. “I need you to let me help raise Jacob. And I want to move back in here with both of you.”
“Oh, is that all?” I tilted my hips up to meet the bulge in his pants.
He groaned. “Don’t distract me. Say yes.”
“I love you.”
“That’s not an answer, Brooklyn.”
“Isn’t it though?”
“Now I’m just going to make you scream yes.” He let go of one of my wrists and pushed his pants down. I expected him to slam into me. But he entered me slowly. So painfully slowly when all I wanted was for him to fill me. It felt like it took a lifetime before he was all the way inside.
Fuck.
“Say yes, baby.”
“Are you actually proposing right now or…”
His fingers dug in to my hip.
God. I arched my back.
“You’ll know when I’m proposing,” he whispered into my ear before biting down on my earlobe.
“Matt.” That wasn’t an answer. But all I could think about was his hard cock slowly sliding in and out of me. This was slow torture.
“I need you to tell me right now that you want all those things. Just say yes and put my mind at ease.”
I dug my fingers into the muscles of his back. “Fuck me.”
“No.”
I moaned. “Please.”
If anything he moved his hips slower. “Not until you say yes.”
What was I agreeing to? I couldn’t even remember.
“I’m very content making very slow love to you.”
I loved this. But God I needed more right now. Posing for him naked had been more arousing than I’d realized. And when he’d put paint on me. I could barely think straight. “Ask me again.”
He smiled down at me. “You’re going to wear my ring.”
“Yes,” I moaned.
“You’re going to take my last name.”
“Yes.”
“You’re going to let me help raise your son.”
Of course. “Yes.”
“And I’m moving in with you guys. Actually I want that first. I’m moving in tonight.”
I smiled up at him. “A thousand times yes. Now please fuck me.”
“That’s different too. You used to like it painfully slow. You loved when I cherished your body.”
“I still love that. But I’m so turned on I could cry.”
“I used to be scared of breaking you,” he said. He still didn’t increase his pace.
“You won’t.”
His eyes searched mine. “Then turn around.” He slowly slid out of me.
When I didn’t move right away, he lowered his eyebrows.
“On your hands and knees,” he said, his voice tight. “Face the wall.” He nodded to the opposite wall.
I pushed myself up and got on all fours.
He grabbed my hips and slammed into me. It was rough. Raw. Like when he’d fucked me in the auditorium. And against the wall outside. I loved when he was slow and loving. But God I loved this too.
The paint on his hips stuck to my ass as he took me from behind.
I had a feeling that Matt preferred sex like this.
That maybe he hadn’t quite been himself with me back then.
But he could be himself now. I wanted him to be.
We were both different now. But I was pretty sure we fit better than ever.
And I loved this domineering side of him.
He pressed on my lower back, making me arch more. He groaned as I obliged.
I somehow felt 16 around him but also 32. And I knew it made no sense. But somehow it made perfect sense.
His fingers dug in to my hips so hard it almost hurt. And I loved every fucking second. I pushed against the cloth on the floor to match his thrusts, leaving green handprints. I looked down at the mess beneath us.
It was a beautiful mix of greens and blues. Some spots had turned into perfect turquoise chaos. And I wanted to frame this sheet. I wanted to remember him looking at my body for its differences instead of its similarities. I wanted to always remember him loving the real me.
I looked over my shoulder at him. The green paint mixed with the blue on his torso too.
He leaned forward and grabbed my breasts before pulling me up. My back hit his chest and somehow it made his cock feel even more amazing inside of me.
“Look what we made.” He whispered in my ear as his hands trailed down the front of my body. “We’re framing this, baby.”
He’d loved every second of tonight too. I stared down at what our bodies had made. With him deep inside of me.
His thumb fell to my clit, smearing paint where it really shouldn’t be. But I didn’t fucking care because…
“Yes!” I tilted my head back on his shoulder.
“That’s how I wanted you to say it.” He groaned as I pulsed around him. But he kept fucking me. “Get in the same position as before,” he said when I caught my breath.
I moved back to my hands and knees.
“No. When I was painting you.” He pulled out of me.
Oh. I flipped over, my ass smearing in the paint. I arched my back.
He grabbed his hard cock as he stared at me. He pumped his hand up and down. “I figure we already made a mess…” his voice trailed off. “Fuck.” His first shot of cum landed on my stomach. Another on my breast. And another and another.
God, watching him like that…I wanted him all over again. He’d listen to me talk about my past. I stared down at his cum mixing with the paint. But Matt was my present. And this felt very present to me.
His chest rose and fell as he caught his breath.
I went to sit up.
“Stop.”
I froze.
“Stay just like that.” He stood up, ass naked, covered in paint, and moved behind his easel. “This is how I really wanted to paint you.” He grabbed his brush.
“Covered in paint with your cum dripping down my body?”
“Perfection.”
I shook my head but looked back at the ceiling like I had in my original pose. I stayed in the pose even though my back started to hurt. The paint dried on my skin, making it harder to move anyway. I wasn’t sure how long I lay there. But I didn’t dare move. I wanted to be his muse.
Finally he took a step back. “Okay,” he said.
I cringed as I stood up.
“I owe my beautiful model a massage,” he said and pulled me into his chest. The paint had dried on him too, but we were still somehow sticky. I didn’t care about any of it, though. Because my eyes were glued to the painting.
“Matt…this is…it’s…beautiful.” I laughed. “That sounded weird. I don’t mean me. I mean the painting. It’s so good.” I stared at the smears of turquoise paint he’d added to my body on the canvas. He’d captured it all perfectly.
“It’s only beautiful because it’s you.” He held me to his chest as we both stared at the painting.
“We’re framing this one too,” I said. “Although, I don’t know where we’ll put it.”
“Downstairs right in the entranceway.”
I laughed and swatted his arm.
“You have no idea how serious I am, baby.”
“Not in the entranceway.”
“How about in my office at work?”
“No way.” I yelped as he grabbed me around the waist and threw me over his shoulder.