Chapter 13 Derek #2
His eyebrows slant down in the cutest way.
I notice a streak of red along his elbow when he closes the door, then another one on the side of his neck when he walks past me, smelling of vanilla and paint.
It hits me in the stomach in the best way possible, forcing me to regulate my breathing as I chase after that sweet scent and follow him inside.
Unsurprisingly, his place is just as old and crappy as the building, but he’s made a home out of it, little knick-knacks and color giving it a personality.
Other than the lounge/kitchen we are currently in, there were two more doors down the corridor, which must be the bathroom and his bedroom.
A single couch bisects the space into two, and ugly brown cupboards line the wall where his cooking appliances and fridge are.
Most of the countertops are clear, save for a sushi takeaway box waiting to be thrown out.
“I have water. Or would you like some tea?” he interrupts my examination just as my gaze moves on from the kitchen and lands on his art corner.
It’s small and cluttered, but cute, with a single easel and a desk with art supplies. “No, thank you.”
I don’t ask for permission, I just walk over to it.
The moment I see the painting he’s currently working on, I’m entranced.
It’s a man in a red suit and another one in a deep blue suit, standing hand in hand next to each other.
He’s not finished the background, but he needn’t for me to recognize it as a gallery, the cream walls and the gray carpets subtle in color to offset the two figures.
“It’s still not ready,” Daniel says from next to me as if I can’t see that.
I study the familiarity in shapes and colors, the angles, the shadows.
Each new one I discover makes these two people look more and more like me and Adam.
The painting’s based on us, it has to be, the subtle details betraying our masks, captured in the same way Daniel has captured the essence of our souls even if the models on the canvas are not our exact copies.
“It looks like me and Adam,” I comment, giving him a sideways glance.
He flushes and smiles shyly. “Uh, yes. I used you and your boyfriend as inspiration. I guess.”
Interesting. Flattering too, I suppose, though that’s not something I’m interested in currently. Or in general.
“Why do you draw?” I pose as I look back to the painting, my eyes and soul mesmerized.
He contemplates my question, rocking on his heels like he needs to figure out where exactly to start.
“I feel at home drawing, I guess,” he mutters softly as if ashamed to confide that in me.
“Putting paint on the canvas makes me happy, just like a walk on a sunny day does. I can show the nice things I see all around me to people and… I can change stuff. I can add colors, tweak the composition, shift the focus… show that there is always hope, something better waiting for us beyond the bad, even if we can’t so easily see it. ”
I can see it. I can feel it through the visual stimulation his paintings cause upon my senses.
Daniel is not like me. He’s the furthest thing from me.
He doesn’t have an ounce of cynicism in him, there is no facade, no mask he’s hiding behind.
It makes no sense. There has to be something he is hiding, some reason why his paintings speak to me, why they make me feel so naked and vulnerable and angry and sad and euphoric.
Whatever the entire truth is… I want it.
I want it all, or this burning need in me won’t ever be satiated.
I rip my eyes away from the me-lookalike and pin Daniel under my scrutiny. Fame, recognition, money, praise, which one is it? Or is it all of them? “Why do you draw, Daniel?” I repeat the question in search of the full truth, something in me awakening.
He frowns, confused, chews on the inside of his cheek. That copper color of his eyes gleams with some emotion. The flicker of it I catch is breathtaking.
“Because it makes me happy,” he repeats, his glare challenging me. “Because it reminds me there are still many happy things around us to make up for those that are no longer here. I want other people to see it, too.”
I want to ruin him. Or for him to ruin me.
Maybe he’s already doing it, I think. Our worlds are incompatible, and one of them has to give, to lose this battle I’ve forced upon us, to fall apart.
I don’t care which one it is. He’s nice, too nice, too pure for mine and I am too tainted for his, a virus, a charred, black patch of earth in a snowy field.
It is why I should put an end to this thing now that I have my answers, now that I have what I came here to get.
I should thank him for showing me his paintings and chatting with me, and playing along with my sexting, bid him a good night and leave for good.
I do none of that. I reach out for his shoulder, pull him in, and kiss him.
He yelps in surprise, then melts in my arms. His lips are soft, unsure what to do as his breath catches.
I lick along the seam and prod with my tongue, asking for entry.
He opens on a moan and I don’t know if it’s to say something or to let me in, but I dive for his tongue, the vanilla more intense now as I taste it on him.
He cries out in pleasure when I flick his tongue with mine, the sound reverberating down my throat as I swallow it, igniting desire I’ve not felt in ages.
I’m a livewire, I need to calm down. I need to get a hold of myself before I devour him whole.
But I can’t, it’s an impossible task because while he’s a little clumsy, there is no hesitation in his response.
His tongue explores my mouth with head-spinning urgency, his hands roam all over my back, then clutch the front of my shirt as if he needs to hold onto it so he doesn’t completely drown in me.
Fuck, I miscalculated. I dug my own grave. I bit more than I could chew. Daniel is both—the shy artist and the sassy brat I’ve been chatting with. He wears no mask, he doesn’t pretend, he doesn’t hide. He’s like a storm in the ocean, unpredictable, unapologetic.
I can’t get enough of him. I need more. I want him to strip me bare, to destroy the walls I’ve built, to peel the multitudes of layers meant to protect me so he can see the real me, the deepest parts that I hide even from myself.
Gritting teeth, I bury my hands in his hair and pull back, forcing some distance between our mouths. He purses his lips, fire burning in those gorgeous eyes.
“We shouldn’t,” I grumble, feeling each word like a knife stab to my heart. “I am rotten. Ugly. My soul is blacker than tar. I’m not a good man, Daniel, and I should have never let things get this far with someone like you…”
He’s both poison and the cure. One taste and I can never go back.
“Someone like me?” He blinks those big eyes, confusion written across his face.
“Pure, beautiful, untainted, true to himself. I have no right to drag you into my ugly world.”
He cups my jaw with his long, paint-smeared fingers. “I…” He swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing invitingly. “We shouldn’t, you are right. But I want to. I can’t stop thinking about you. Even if you are way out of my league. Even if you have a man next to you.”
Liquid fire lights me. I come alive in a whole new way, heaving with want so vicious I don’t think I can control it.
“You don’t care I’m with somebody? That we are doing this behind Adam’s back?”
He averts his eyes. When they return, they are dark and irresistible, pulling me further and further into the abyss.
“I do. And I hate myself for doing this, but I can’t stop it.
Ever since that first time you made me send you a nude, I’ve been wanting to meet you so much.
And then it turned out you are the man I painted a mural for.
” He pulls on his bottom lip. “The way you looked at it, what I saw when you had all your walls down, I… I can’t get it out of my mind. ”
What did he see? Would he tell me if I asked? Is it maybe similar to what I see when I look at him? A man I need to have, to crack, to understand, to claim?
I shove my hand down his pants. He groans, his eyes rolling back. “There’s no going back now, Daniel. You belong to me from this moment on, and I will show you just how fucked up and hopeless my world can be”
He grins through gritted teeth. “Try me.”
My cock throbs with need. “We’ll keep this a secret. No one can know. To everyone, Adam and I are the perfect couple, and it must stay that way.”
Something crosses his face, twisting my stomach even further.
Adam isn’t part of the picture, but Daniel doesn’t know that yet.
I should clear up the misunderstanding, I should tell him the truth, but I don’t want to.
If he’s willing to be with a cheating man, there is a chance for this to work.
For someone pure like him to be with someone rotten like me.
“Fuck you.”
“You want to, don’t you? To ride my fat cock and scream my name when I make you come.”
He whimpers, the sexy sound fueling my arousal.
I want him desperate, raw. At my mercy. Even if it means lying, I must remain the one in control, the one in charge, I like it that way.
I have to be one step ahead so I can mold things to my liking.
It’s the only way, it’s how the predators rule the world because otherwise the world will eat them alive.
“Shut up,” he growls like a wild animal.
I inhale him, his scent intoxicating. I’ve lost my mind for doing this. But I can’t stop, I need him to be mine, and that’s the only way I know how to make him. I need to chain him, to trap him in my world on my terms, or I’m afraid that he might slip between my fingers or destroy me.
I squeeze his erection harder, feeling a wet spot form on his underwear. “I’ll make you my secret bitch, Daniel. You’ll spread your legs for me whenever I tell you to, but in public we’ll just be two strangers. A billionaire and an artist.”
“Fuck you!”
I crash our mouths together. He opens willingly, greedy and hungry for me as he ruts into my hand. I slide my fingers down as our tongues battle, dip them under his underwear in search of his hole. When I find it, I press firmly, rubbing the small rim.
“Fuck, yes!”
His cry makes electricity crackle along my skin. “Do you like that, hmm?”
I repeat the motion, applying more pressure. He keens again, eyes delirious and shiny. “Yes, please, Derek. More.”
Leaning in as I keep my ministrations up, I lick the tip of his ear. “Are you ready to be my bitch, little artist?” He nods frantically, but that’s not enough. I want to hear him say it. If I am to break him, he needs to learn to be obedient. “Answer me.”
“Yes. Please. I’ll be your bitch. Just, please, give me your cock.”
“So good and obedient. How can I say no?”
In a flurry of clothes, I get us both naked.
I settle on the couch with Daniel in my lap, his dick leaking all over my stomach.
The lube and condoms I prepared lie on the cushion next to me, but I’m in no rush to use them quite yet.
I want to explore this man first, to taste him bit by bit and drive him even crazier than I already have.
His pink, perky nipples are where I start.
The little nubs respond to my tongue immediately, and the noises Daniel makes as I lick and suck them send even more heat to my cock.
I have him shaking in my arms in no time.
It makes me wonder how many men he’s been with if he is so responsive, or is it that they never took the time to figure out what he likes?
“Tell me,” I drawl, kissing a line up his clavicle and along the column of his neck. “How do you like to be fucked?”
He swallows audibly, making a tiny sexy noise. “I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?”
He shakes his head, eyes on fire. “I haven’t been with anyone before…”
I freeze, right there and then. “You haven’t had sex with anyone?”
Hot red covers his cheeks. “No, I, uh… I’ve only ever masturbated.”
Fuck, I’m a goner. As if he couldn’t get any more perfect, he decides it’s okay to drop this bomb on me. I would have never guessed from how sassy he was online, how unaffected he seemed when he sent me that nude.
I slide my fingers down his crease, rubbing his hole. “I’ll teach you everything you need to know. Just be a good boy, do as I say, and I promise you’ll enjoy every moment of it.”