Chapter 25
Amelia
How did I end up being the one that would end up being cuffed in the middle of a canvas with a man that would have been totally out of my league?
But more importantly how did I end up being the one to open up, to be the one that would spill all her secrets to a man that simply wants to protect more than just my heart?
That talked about a future that was brighter than I could imagine? One that was imagining myself.
Shooter looked at me like I was the one woman in his life that there was no other competition. The one woman that he would burn the world to make happy and for once I was okay with that, I leaned into it.
Every stroke of the brush that he painted on the canvas sent chills down my spine. If the goal was to drive me crazy and yearn for his touch, well, he was definitely winning. I kept imagining what the brush would feel like against my skin, would he paint me like I was a vision from a muse?
I hadn't told a whole lot of people about the miscarriage and for good reasons. It was one look into those whiskey colored eyes, I knew that he would do anything to make me happy, to fulfill any dream. There was pure sadness, sadness for the hope and dream that never came to be.
I thought he was kidding when he added his name onto mine, but there was no hint of laughter or joking for that matter. I could have fought, and yet I didn’t.
“You shouldn’t say things you don’t mean. It’s not nice,” I said, trying to pull away.
“Too bad that I tend to be a man of my word.” Shooter said. “Because when I say I would love to see that soft look on your face when you hold our child one day, it just makes me want to do a lot of crazy things.”
Panic started to set in, though the sudden desire to allow him to do that was stronger. “Shooter,” I started to protest. It was crazy to think that a man that waited for me for long while pictures a life with me.
“I’m not hearing you say no.”
“You’re not hearing me say yes… just yet.” I slowly admitted the last part, flicking my eyes in his direction.
His eyes darkened. “That’s all I fucking need.”
He lunged forward, cradling my head in his hands as his lips explored mine, forcing mine open in a ravenous kiss. I knew this kiss too well, it was demanding, it was lustful, it was his way of quieting my mind and let go and be me.
I yanked on my chain, knowing that I couldn’t make it further. I ached to touch him just as his hands moved from my head to craving to touch my body. My half-naked body that yearned to be held, to be desired. My body arched into him as he got up on his knees to loom over me.
He pressed me into the canvas, the stretched out material grazing my back. I jerked away, “Careful, sugar, you’re going to ruin a masterpiece.” I chuckled, trying to peak over my shoulder at what he had been painting. With one turn from my head, a handsome smile appeared.
“I’m looking at her. The most beautiful masterpiece. One that I would like to ruin over and over again only for me to make beautiful again. Especially when she looks like an angel falling when she comes around my cock.”
There he was my own big personal devil. I played along.
“I certainly wouldn’t want to get too messy for you.” I licked my lips, throwing my arm around his neck.
“Sometimes you have to make a little mess to make something beautiful.” His breath was hot on my skin. I reveled in it, the way he made me feel like a brand new woman with a fiery passion that just wanted to explode.
All I felt was teeth and lips sucking, making more marks, his mark.
He pulled us up, pressing further into the canvas, with an outstretched hand looking for something.
In a blink, his chest bare to me, every cut of his muscle made my mouth water.
He pulled away, dragging a paint brush across my torso, a dark blue smeared across, only to connect to the canvas behind me.
My body felt hot, waiting for his every move, his kiss trailing along my breast, bucking against him. All I wanted to do was touch him, but the damn cuff held me back. The snap of it made him chuckle. “What do you want?”
My eyes dropped down to his cock that was pressing hard against the zipper. I couldn’t help but chew on my lower lip, my own hunger driving my desire. “I shouldn’t want to, but you make it so damn hard to say no.”
“What’s telling you no? Can’t be that dripping pussy that hasn’t stopped since we got here,” he teased.
I pulled back, the thread of honesty with him was a newer feeling, but we weren’t hiding things anymore. “I’m scared.”
His hand lightly gripped the back of my neck.
“You can tell me to stop, although we both know you want this. I can be soft, or I can show you how much I want to take every ounce of you, how much you consume me, drive me mad.” His hand moved from neck to my ass, giving it a good squeeze before a sharp, familiar delectable pain drove me along the edge.
“I want to know every little secret desire you have, the ones that creep in the bottom of your mind.”
There were plenty, ones that were unspoken, too nervous to do anything for the fear of judgement.
It had happened once before, it could happen again.
I wanted it to be rough, I wanted to be driven mad, I wanted to feel like I was dreaming only to wake up with a dream come true, I wanted to feel like the shadows were caving in.
And all that was pointing to one man that would make that a reality.
“Uncuff me and I’ll tell you,” I teased.
He did and dropped it to the floor. He pulled the paintbrush against my skin, dragging it to the other side.
Colors smeared on his skin, creating my own version of a masterpiece.
He kept pulling different colors until our bodies were cascading in color, all the warm and coolness spreading like second skin.
My hands searched for his cock, strained against the fabric of his pants. I cupped him, feeling the thickness which only led to the tingling to my vagina. He hissed as I massaged him, playing with him.
“I imagine a lot. Your hand wrapped around my throat, controlling the air I breathe only to release at just the right moment to bring me pleasure.” He inched closer, the cat-like grin appeared, and I knew I was in for good.
My fingers popped his jean button; my eyes grew wider.
He slid his knee between my legs, propping at the right height of my clit.
My fingers trail along the zipper, pulling it down. “I want to wake up dreaming about your tongue in my pussy, driving me to the edge as my legs threaten to close.”
“Oh, peaches, I can make that happen. Maybe I’ll bury my cock in your sweet pussy, slowly waking you up, just to fuck you harder.”
“Is that a promise?” I pouted, before I shoved my hand down to grip his cock. He was hard as a rock and I wanted him fucking me against the canvas. I didn’t care if my ass left a print.
“It’s a guarantee.” He groaned as I slowly drifted my fingers along his shaft. “I think you have talked long enough, show me what you want. I know you want to wrap those pretty lips around me.” He dropped everything, including his pants, and stepped out of them.
I dropped to my knees, I wanted the taste, I wanted all of him, just like he wanted all of me. I gazed up, his hand cupping my chin, “What a fucking beautiful sight. A true gift.”
I parted my mouth, leaned in and teased his tip, swirling my tongue just around the tip.
The slight salt taste of precum filled my senses.
I never took my eyes off of the dark giant of a man as he threaded his hand in my hair.
Allowed me the control, and I ran with it.
I took him inch by inch, watching his face twist in pleasure.
Mine.
The wild thought flew across my mind. I sucked him down, taking every inch and girth of him.
He gripped tighter, but not bruising like Chris had before, but one that tamed and yet driven with control.
His groans made me wetter and with one hand wrapped around him as I sucked on him, the other traveled to my wet pussy, playing with my clit.
I could come just from his groans and knowing that I was doing that. I closed my eyes, getting lost in it.
“Fuck, Amelia,” he hissed out, feeling his own release threatening to come to surface, all from the madness.
I circled my clit, the more he pistoned his hips, and I gave one last trick, pushing him on the edge.
I opened wider and relaxed my throat, his hitting the very back of my throat.
I paused there, only to look up with my eyes watering.
I knew just that a second longer, I’d make him come like a teenage boy.
With a deep growl, Shooter pulled back, yanking me up. A whimper came out, I was close to coming. He cupped my jaw. “This. This is why you drive me mad. I see you and your needs.”
In a flash he picked me up, ensured that I wrapped my legs around him. His dark gaze fixated on me, never breaking that eye contact. My ass hit the edge of a wooden table, his workstation.
“My turn,” he growled out.
Shivers traveled down my legs. I loved the intensity. The fast paced, the fact that I didn’t have to guess, it was easy with him.
He unhooked the bra that adorned my skin, freeing my breasts.
The chill of the room puckered my nipples, his fingers brushed against them.
He palmed one of my breasts, then captured my lips in another feverish kiss.
It seared into my mind. I don’t know how I lived without his touch.
He crept in my soul and I was too blind.
His cock bobbed, rubbed against my pussy lips, teasing me like the devil he was. His hand wrapped around my throat. “I dream of everything you want and more.”
“Don't tease me with a good time.” I tried to sound sultry, but he pulled away.
“Really?”
He thought I was all games. The funny thing was he was the one to unlock that barricade, the results he wasn’t expecting. “Maybe I wouldn't be too upset. You keep saying I’m yours, waking up to you, only you.”
“Oh peaches, you have a twisty dark side on you,” he said with a gentle squeeze of my throat.
“Maybe I just needed someone to help see that.” I leaned into him, kissing him like my last breath, one of my hands wrapped around his cock. If we were falling, we were going to fall hard.
Shooter shoved me down to the table, his hands roaming over my body, admiring the artwork. With one rip of my panties, I was hot and wet, waiting for him.
“Fuck me.”
“That’s the hope.”
“Do I need to put your panties in your mouth like before?” he threatened.
I only smiled, then gasped as two fingers plunged into my own wet mess.
I hissed at the pleasure as his fingers curved and then in and out.
I cried out for release. “If only you weren’t a little brat, I’d have you coming around my fingers more than once.
But,” he said as he withdrew, “you’ll only get one… this time.”
A sting from his hand coming down on my pussy before a quick thrust of his cock had me crying and bucking off the table.
“Brats take what I give them.”
I succumbed to a delirious haze. “You going to spank me, Daddy?”
His eyes darkened as another slap to my pussy almost bursted my insides. “I only want to hear that when you make me one. But I’ll take great pleasure in making that ass red. I bet it would look pretty with a little something else back here.”
I tried to protest, the visual in my mind told me to shut up and enjoy it. Because secretly I wanted that as well.
“Please just fuck me,” I begged. I couldn’t hold back the desire to be taken by him. To be wanted for more than just sex.
“How could I deny you, especially when you ask so nicely.” He groaned as he started to thrust harder and faster, rocking the table beneath us. The mixture of our groans and moans was the music we needed.
I couldn't help my breathing hitch as I saw his cock disappear in me, feeling the fullness.
I closed my eyes for a brief second, getting lost in the feeling, almost floating on a cloud.
He slowed his pace as I whimpered at the last thrust. “No, no, go back.” I felt the wet drip out of me.
A switch flipped as a crazed animal in me growled.
“You think I’m just going to make you come this fast? Oh peaches, you don’t know me very well do you.” His thumb caressed my clit, building the pressure again.
“I was close,” I whined.
“I know you were, but I know what you need. I’m going to fill this greedy pussy like you want me to.”
I wrapped my legs around and jerked him forward, bucking as his cock hit the back of my pussy. I was starving now, to the brink of madness.
He returned with a growl, “Tell me that you’re mine and I’ll give you what you need.”
It was a test. One that I wasn’t going to fail. On raised elbows, I tilted my head telling him, “I’m yours, River.” Saying his name just like the little voice note that he jerked off to many times.
He pulled me up to sit up, as he buried his face in my neck and pistoned his hips. All I could do was grip the back of his head and pull on his hair. A sharp pain from his teeth brought out the most amazing orgasm I’d ever had.
“Mine,” he rumbled.
“Mine.” I returned the cry.
Cries of pleasure erupted from the both of us, my pussy fluttering around his pulsing cock. I had never been on this cloud of pleasure, like it was there the whole time, but never obtainable.
He pulled me off the table, and laid me down on the ground with cloth tarp on the floor. His cock stayed twitching inside of me, but I didn’t care. I was in heaven.
He kept me close, afraid to let me go. But we stayed like that for a long while. To say that I hated it, I didn’t because in his arms, the world didn’t matter, the mess in my head was quiet. Maybe it was time to allow myself to fall, knowing that Shooter would be there to catch me.