Chapter 3 #8
I still feel like I’m floating as Devo delicately slides my underwear back up my legs.
When he can scoot them up no further, he helps me to stand and then pulls my panties up all the way.
My lace underwear looks so fragile in his larger masculine fingers.
Devo then clasps the hem of my T-shirt. “May I take this off?” I nod in silence and raise my arms above my head, fingers still tingling.
He pulls it up over my head and places it on the couch.
Now I’m standing in my bra and panties, both made with navy lace designs.
I guess an effort to pick a matching set didn’t go to waste after all.
“And this?” He gestures to my bra. I acquiesce again, and he steps in close, wrapping his arms around to my back.
My nose is nearly pressed against his chest and I smell his musky scent once again.
This close, however, I also catch the scent of the sweat that’s gleaming at the hollow of his neck.
And I catch a whiff of… sex. He smells like sex.
I stand there in his partial embrace while his nimble fingers unhook my bra. He slides the fabric down over my arms and fingertips, then he tosses it on the couch as well.
“Why?” I shake my head back and forth, trying to clear the endorphin fog. The cool air hits my chest and my nipples peak ever so slightly. I don’t look down. Now’s not the time to be self-conscious, I think. That moment has passed.
“Just trust me,” he says against my ear, his voice gravelly.
I realize that I’ve had a release and Devo likely hasn’t.
He glances down at my breasts and his eyes harden.
While we’re still so close, I twist my palm to feel for his crotch.
His dick is straining at his fly, hard and full.
He shakes his head back and forth on the side of my head, kissing the shell of my ear and removing my hand from his fly.
“Not right now,” he murmurs. My eyebrows draw down.
“But I want you to feel good too.”
“Don’t worry, I feel great,” he says, wiping a wayward strand of hair from my forehead, slicked down with perspiration. Without warning, Devo stoops down and sweeps me up into his arms, one arm under my legs and the other below my shoulder blades.
“Where are we going?” I almost slur. I sound like a drunk!
Devo turns and takes the few steps to the platform with the canvas atop it.
He walks up the one step of the platform and gingerly places me on my side at the center of the platform’s plateau.
I still feel like putty and stay exactly as he’s placed me.
The light blue paint must be smearing beneath me and a part of me recognizes that we’ve moved back into art. I don't want to ruin his process.
“Charlotte—” He clears his throat as he stands over me. “I want you to remember how you felt just a moment ago.” He’s focusing on me with an electric energy, but his voice remains strained.
That shouldn’t be too hard because I’m still flush with feel-good hormones. I give him a small nod, knowing my movements can smear the paint and not sure what my new rules are.
“You can move.” He gives me a soft smile. “I just need your essence on the canvas.” My essence. “I’ll handle the details.”
“Okay,” I respond, now feeling shy. This is how I’m collaborating.
I’m one foot in my endorphin high, chemical-driven, lustful haze, and one foot in a puddle of returning nerves.
I close my eyes and try to imagine the peak of my orgasm just a couple minutes ago.
I begin to arch my back more and slightly lengthen my legs, still keeping them somewhat bent.
I point my toes, almost re-triggering the cramp I’d been close to.
I smile slightly. How silly it feels to cramp amidst such pleasure.
Something’s still missing. I look up at Devo and he gives a nod of his chin, indicating permission to do whatever I need to.
I slide my arm out from under me and put both of my arms above my head, my hands hanging above the canvas, wrists touching.
There we go. That feels more like how I’d felt moments ago.
Devo smiles conspiratorially. He walks over to my hands hanging off the canvas and grasps my wrists with a warm, firm grip.
I use that to anchor me as I fully arch my back and tilt my head up.
“Perfect,” he says and lets go of my wrists. “Stay like this.” I can feel him splaying my hair out behind me onto the canvas.
“Don’t worry.” His voice is husky. “The paint comes out.” I wasn’t even thinking about my hair, maybe I should have been.
I focus on maintaining the last remnants of my high.
Good girl, I go over again. I think about Devo tying my wrists, restraining me.
I bite my lip. I think about his piercing gaze over my clit as he gave me wave after wave of pleasure.
I can feel my pussy begin to pulse again, just thinking about it. I let out a sigh of wistful rapture.
“There,” Devo commands. “Stay there.” His voice fades out for a moment and then he’s back: “Close your eyes and mouth, please.”
I do as I’m told. I can’t see what’s happening, but I can feel it.
Swaths of paint are splattered across my body from all sides.
I hold my position. Just like before, some of the splatters feel and sound larger, lightly stinging my mostly naked body.
Other sprays are light and ticklish, causing shivers to skitter across my skin.
I wish I could experience Devo’s point of view, but I’m soaking up every moment of being a part of it. The pleasure of my orgasm has almost faded, but it’s been replaced by the pleasure of being admired, of being a part of a creation, of being a muse.
Chilly splatters wash across my stomach, the tops of my feet, my lower back. I arch slightly further. What would it feel like for other people to watch this process? That thought kind of turns me on... I like the idea of being a work of art.
The splatters become fewer and farther between. I can imagine Devo is focusing on the details now as best he can while I’m still on the canvas, memorizing my shape with the paint. Finally, it stops. A contemplative silence hangs in the air.
“You can open your eyes.”
I do. I see dashes of a soft green paint before me.
Devo had somehow avoided harsh splatters across my face.
I look towards the edge of the canvas and see a deep black paint dripping off the edge.
I hadn’t realized that he’d switched colors.
The juxtaposition of the soft blues and greens with the deep black is harsh, indicative of tension.
“How did it go?” I ask, looking up at him.
“Well,” he answers with a warm smile. He wipes his brow with his forearm. “Really well.” He bends down to kiss my head again. It’s sweet and gentle. I warm to him in a different way. Devo has brought me through so many stages this afternoon.
He helps me stand, minimizing additional points of contact with the canvas.
Once he assists me down the platform step, Devo embraces me in a tight hug.
He kisses my temple. God, I love the tender kisses he’s given me throughout the night.
This man brought me to the moon with his tongue and talented fingers, and then has me melting before him with the softest brush of his lips.
“Thank you,” he rasps. He pulls my head up to his, finger under my chin. “Thank you. You’re beautiful Charlotte, absolutely gorgeous.”
I smile up at him, not sure what to say. “You’re welcome?” I laugh and bite my lower lip. I shift my weight from foot to foot and give him a once over. “Would you like me to?” I pointedly eye his straining fly then look back into his eyes.
He shakes his head. “No, no, don’t worry about that,” he drawls.
“You sure?” My eyebrows knit together. I know how frustrated I was not long ago feeling so swollen and turned on before reaching a release. He puts his forehead to mine and nods softly. Our close eye contact feels intimate.
“I’m sure.” He takes a deep breath and draws back.
He pulls a clean hand towel seemingly out of nowhere and gently wipes as much paint as he can off my body.
“Now this is my least favorite part. I have to finish this”—he gestures over his shoulder at the canvas—“and clean up. And you, missy—” he runs his rough fingertips down my now paint-splattered arm “—need to clean yourself up.” I shiver, but begin to slide my bra back on.
Devo bends down and comes up with my T-shirt, which he gently pulls down over my head.
I frown as I poke my arms through the sleeves. I don’t want to leave.
“Can we be together for a moment?” I ask shyly. “Just for a bit?”
“Yes, of course,” he says. “Whatever you need.” He kisses my cheek and scoops me up again.
I emit a squeak of surprise and then giggle, wrapping my hands around his neck.
I know it’s just the chemicals coursing through me, but I feel something towards this man.
It’s as if I’m basking in his warmth, and if I’m near him I’m safe. I feel sexy. I’m content.
Devo sweeps us out of the closet-turned-sexy-art-room and walks us through the empty studio. We round into the small alcove that is the kitchen. He sets me on the counter after throwing a clean smock down to prevent my bare skin from touching the cold countertop.
“I hope you have laundry services here.” He smiles as he fills a glass of water and hands it to me. “Since you’re such a dirty girl and all.” He eyes the smock beneath me and waggles his eyebrows.
I lightly smack him on the arm and laugh. “Hey, I was perfectly innocent when I came here.”
“Sure you were,” he parries, snagging my hand and bringing it to his lips. “And you just thought I was an innocent landscape painter.” He nips at my fingertips and I yelp.
“Hey! I didn’t know what was going to happen in there,” I say indignantly, grinning.
“Hmm, you’re not complaining now, are you?”