19. Jensen
NINETEEN
JENSEN
I’d taken a few days off before my Burn House exam. I knew I’d be less than useless at dealing with customer service.
Now I was glad I had because it gave me extra time with Lyric.
The day was blustery and cold as fuck. We definitely wouldn’t be able to hit the food trucks. In fact, I knew they’d be all locked up after lunch on a day like today. It seemed too tame to take her to a restaurant, but I’d need to feed her.
When she’d given me her address, I realized she lived in the same apartment complex as my grandmother. I had a strong urge to bring her to my gram’s house but I didn’t want to scare the crap out of her.
I needed to keep it light.
And, well, since we both had art as an interest, I’d trolled the community pages and found an art gallery that had recently opened in Syracuse. It was a little bit out of the way from us, but not a long drive.
I’d texted her to wear something for a nice restaurant to cover my bases.
I got out of my truck and buzzed her apartment.
“I’ll be right down.”
I guess meeting her sister was off the table too. Right now, I was too happy to keep our little bubble of intimacy alive.
She and her sister lived in one of the smaller apartment buildings. I could see through the glass panes of the steel door as she came down the stairs with her dark brown hair pinned up in a braid crown that couldn’t fully tame her curls. She wore a wool overcoat in a deep crimson that matched her lips.
She gave me a brilliant smile as she pushed through the door. “Hi.”
Under the coat was a form fitting black dress that cupped her magnificent breasts then flared around her hips to swing around her knees. The inky perfection of her urged me closer. I slid my hand along the cashmere and groaned lightly as I lowered my mouth to capture her lips.
She wore a pair of heeled boots that allowed us to line up easier.
With a hum, her fingers twisted into the leather of my jacket.
“You look incredible.”
“I wasn’t quite sure what to wear.”
“It’s perfect.” I coasted my hand lower to cup her ass, to drag her into my already hard cock.
Her breath caught. “You missed me then?”
“All fucking day.” I flicked my tongue along her lower lip. “Where did you put the drawing? Left it in your office?”
“My bedroom,” she said on a sigh. “Too many questions were asked at work.”
I paused. “Ones you didn’t want to answer?”
Her lips slid into a smile. “I didn’t need to. Half my team guessed I got my brains rattled last night.”
I slid my knee between her thighs. “I can’t stop thinking about the way you felt. Taking me like the goddess you are.” I backed her into the stone of the building and leaned into her even further. “But you pinned your hair away from me.”
She slid her hand up my chest. “It was too wild.”
“I like it wild. I like sinking my fingers into it while you take me deeper.”
“Jensen,” she said with a sigh.
“And when you say my name like that. But I like the way you yell it too. Your voice cracks and goes all husky.”
“You’re killing me.”
I slipped my hand down her ass to her thigh and pulled it up along my hip, to press tighter into her. “I’ve been hard for you all day. I even tried to take some of the edge off in the shower, imagining you sucking me off.”
Her golden eyes widened.
“You like that?” I dipped my head down and licked her lips open. “I’d wear this red lipstick around the base of my cock because you’d take me deep, wouldn’t you?”
“Yes.” Her voice was shaky and breathless.
I pressed my forehead to hers. “Why can I see that so clearly?”
That secret smile lifted the corner of her lips. “Because you’re very creative.”
“Because I’ve imagined you every which way for years, Lyric. Last night just made it worse.”
The smile faded and I wanted to cut off my tongue.
Couldn’t I just keep it easy for one fucking moment?
No .
No, I really couldn’t.
Maybe it was better she knew it now.
“I didn’t.”
My chest tightened. “It’s okay.”
“No, not that way. Just because I didn’t know it could be like this . I imagined your hands on me, but in that nebulous way of a sexy romance novel.”
“I’m not exactly soft and romantic, but I can try to be—I would for you.”
She laughed and my chest eased a little. “I don’t want that. I like what you showed me. And I want more of it.” She drew her finger up between us and her nail scraped at my lower lip. “These lips. So much of you is so hard.”
I groaned, my hips automatically rolling against her.
“But these lips are so soft, and they drive me nuts.”
“And I want them on you. I can still taste your pussy.”
Her breath hitched.
“Sorry, too rough.”
“No.” She hooked her finger into my mouth, and I sucked—hard. “I like it. But maybe not right here. Mrs. Lee is going to come home soon.”
I let her finger go. “Don’t want to give her a show?”
She laughed. “She’s very proper.”
“Maybe she only acts like it on the outside. Like you.”
Her cheeks flushed. “Maybe. Where are you taking me?”
I sighed, aware that I needed to rein it in. I lowered her leg to the ground. “Syracuse.”
“Syracuse? For what? We have nice restaurants around here.”
“We do, and two of them would be wondering why I pulled my availability only to come in and eat their food.”
“Oh.” She straightened. “That’s true. I didn’t think about that.”
“But I have a place I want to show you.” I laced my fingers with hers and pulled her toward my truck.
“Okay.”
The wind picked up and we hurried a bit faster. I boosted her into the passenger seat and stole another kiss before shutting the door.
I got in on the driver side and started the truck, flicking the heat on high to get the cab warmed up. The drive into Syracuse gave us time to catch up on each other’s day.
Mine had been mostly unconscious, but Lyric had been a busy bee.
“So, you have most of the booths full now?”
She nodded. “Tatum and I are going to go over the contracts this week to figure out who goes where. Then you’ll be able to get moving on sketches and what materials we need to get for you. Oh, and we need to get a contract written up for you.”
“I’m not worried about it.”
“I know, but I am. And you need to get paid for your time. I have a good budget.”
“And I’m going to charge you for it.”
She laughed. “Good.” She straightened up as the gallery came into view. “How did I not know about this?”
“There’s quite a few in Syracuse, but I like this one. They are doing a Taste of the Northeast thing so it’s a bunch of different artists from the area.”
“Sounds good to me.” She glanced at me. “It’s rare for me to be able to share my love of art with someone who isn’t a pretentious ass.”
I laughed. “Glad to hear it.”
I paid for parking and went around to help her down. The parking lot was a mix of cars—expensive and everyday. Surprisingly, there were even a few beater trucks like mine.
The building reminded me of Tom’s with its old brick and warehouse vibe. As we walked across the bridge from the parking garage, a massive mural came into view on the side of the building. The Factory Gallery was emblazoned across the building with a steampunk feel to the massive diesel creation that could only come out of an artist’s brain.
I appreciated the scope and color work.
Steampunk wasn’t my area, but the mix of Victorian and steam engine aesthetic was a visual feast, that was for sure.
“That’s amazing. Is that what you do?”
“I’ve never done anything quite that large. Probably the full wall at The Studio is the biggest I’ve done.”
“I can’t imagine what goes into something the size of a building.”
“A crane.”
She laughed. “Ass.”
I grinned and we hurried into the building and checked our coats. It was a wide-open warehouse with art hanging from wires that created separate spaces.
We walked around a seaside experience with photos of various coastal towns. The photos were dramatic in size and scope. A few were printed on glass that made me curious to look into the technique.
I’d never painted on glass.
And as interesting as it was to look at the artwork, it was equally fascinating to see how Lyric took in the work. She seemed to like to look at everything then go back to certain ones that intrigued her more.
We moved onto abstract paintings that made both of us laugh then breeze through faster because they were all of creepy clowns.
“What was that?”
“Art,” I said stoically.
Her eyes widened, then she burst out laughing and drew me into another section of the warehouse. Her breath caught at a massive canvas, and she practically dragged me to it.
It was of a Maine lighthouse in the midst of a storm. I’d seen plenty of paintings and photos like it, but this one used color in a haunting way. It was an endless palette of grays with blue and green undertones, but there was a single flicker of gold in the center of it all.
I moved behind her and looped my arms around her middle. She relaxed back against me. “I’ve been in that storm,” she whispered. “Where it feels like there’s no stopping it.”
I rested my cheek against her head.
“It’s why I have Sheba.”
It seemed as if it was easier for her to talk facing away from me, so I waited her out. “Therapy dog?”
“My anxiety attacks feel like I’m drowning. Like my chest gets so heavy, I can’t breathe. Mostly from the skin grafts. Laying on my stomach for days as I healed enough to move around. Then more surgeries for my leg.”
I tucked my chin into the space between her shoulder and neck.
“My physical therapist told me about therapy dogs. I didn’t really want one, but I think getting Sheba helped on more than one level. She was the reason I got out of bed sometimes.”
My chest ached for her. For the pain she endured.
“I wondered why she was so well-trained. But I believe the connection goes deeper.”
“It does.” She turned from the painting to face me. “I’d be lost without her.”
I cupped her face. “I’m just glad you had her for the rough days.”
“I had my sister too, but there’s something about Sheba. She centers me in a way no one else can.”
I hoped maybe I might be in that circle someday.
She went on her toes and brushed a quick kiss over my cheek. “Thanks.”
Then she slipped away, and I followed her into the next exhibit. I bumped into her as she’d gone still.
“What is it?”
I eased her into the stark room with a red haze to it. Large black and white photographs showed closeups of couples in intimate poses.
A deep kiss was blown up until it was billboard-sized and cropped for maximum intensity. A man’s hand around his rock-hard shaft, the veins in his hand as stark as the ones peeking between his fingers. Another stunning mouth latched on the curve of a breast.
The creativity was in your face and not for the faint of heart.
Some of the other photos were even more intense and evoked sex for shock and then the next photo would be sex for love. It was discordant and interesting as hell.
I slid my arm around Lyric and tugged on her earlobe. Her breath stalled as she gave me room to taste more. She wore tiny little hoops, and I tugged on them before I sipped from the skin right behind her ear.
She rubbed against me. “I haven’t seen anything this intimate since my senior year in college.”
“Your picture doesn’t count?”
She laughed. “I guess it does. But it’s not like that. It’s just me.”
“Do you want photos of us together like that?” I glanced around to make sure we were alone and drew my hand up to cup her breast and was rewarded with a curse and her nipple hardening under my hand.
“No.”
“You don’t want to see what it looks like when I lick you?”
“I’m good with just feeling it.” She paused for a second, then she lowered her voice. “I did date a photographer for a half a second.”
“Is that right?” I spun her around. “Did he take photos of you?”
Her secret smile appeared. “Maybe.”
“Where are they?” My voice was darker than I intended.
She moved in closer, tipping back her head as she slipped a hand between us and traced a knuckle down my rapidly hardening shaft. “I only let you take those kinds of photos of me. Jeremy was more of a headshots fashion guy.” She laughed and lifted her other hand to my tight jaw. “I guess I might like the artsy types.”
“Good for me.” I lowered my mouth to hers. She drew in a quick breath as I deepened the kiss.
The pain she’d mentioned in the previous room swinging to the hyper-sexualized photos of this room was jarring. My nerves jangled with the need to soothe her as much as taste her.
I pulled away from her, looking around for anyone near us. I urged her out of this section and found a hallway. The sign stated it was a closed area, which worked for me.
Since it was a weekday evening, and the space was vast, it was easy to find pockets of seclusion.
“Jensen…”
I drew her down the hall. It was a separate space, full of crates and sheet-covered lumps that were probably sculptures.
“We’re not supposed to be down here.”
I grinned over my shoulder. “I know.” I firmed my grip on her hand. The stark light from the gallery only reached so far down, but it was enough to hide us.
She looked over her shoulder and gave a small yip when I hauled her into the storage room. I turned her around to face the wall just inside the doorway.
Suddenly remembering she’d told me about her anxiety, I paused. “Is this okay?”
“If we get caught, I’ll make you pay for this.”
“And if we don’t?” I asked against her neck. My hands coasted down her hips, bunching up the skirt of her dress.
Her breath hitched. “You can’t wait until we leave?”
“I can, but I don’t want to.” I inched her skirt a little higher. The urge to make her mine ramped up as my fingers found a thigh high. “Jesus, Lyric.”
“I don’t get much reason to wear these.”
I skimmed my fingertips along her inner thigh and continued upward. And hell, they kept going up until I found a lace thong. “All night, you’ve had this under here?”
“I hoped you’d find them. Personally, I was figuring it would be easy for a makeout session in your truck.”
“And now?” I teased my way along the lace to the cleft of her ass. I nudged her legs further apart as I traced my fingertips between her cheeks to the minuscule panel that covered her pussy.
Her breath hitched and her hand flattened against the wall. “Now I’m even happier I wore them.”
“Me too, Lyric.” I stroked over the silk as she shifted against me, her bare ass sliding against my dress pants. “I’m going to fuck you right here.”
She sucked in a breath.
“Do you want me to fuck you here, Lyric?” I rasped my fingernail across the swollen slit hidden under the lace. “Are you wet for me, baby?”
She went onto her toes, pushing herself against my hand.
“Was that a yes?”
She pressed her cheek against the wall. The diffused light highlighted her cheekbone, her nose, and her parted lips.
I drew my hand away and she shuddered. “Yes. Yes, I want this.”
“You want me to fuck you?”
The harsh words suited my raw emotions. Between her confession and the fact that I’d be facing the Burn House the next day, I was strung tight.
“Yes. Hard.”
I pressed my lips against the nape of her neck where fuzzy little curls had escaped. “Pretty sure that’s the only way I could do it right now.” I scraped my teeth over her neck, pushing the fabric of her dress aside enough to lick the salt of her skin.
I shifted her thong aside and sunk my fingers into her soaked slit. She shuddered and I groaned.
“For me?”
“Yes.”
Slowly, I filled her with two fingers, twisting them until her breath quivered. Her ass circled my cock in time to each stroke.
After she soaked my hand, I fumbled with my belt. The need to get inside of her made my hand shake. I had to lose myself in her endless softness and strength.
I slipped my fingers out of her, and she whimpered, going on her toes as if to get me back inside of her. I jerked my boxers down and smeared her wetness down my cock.
“I can smell you on me.”
She groaned. “Get inside me already.”
I laughed as I got out a condom, my wallet falling to the floor in my haste. I didn’t care.
Her labored breathing sliced at me. Knowing I did that to her.
I needed two hands to get the condom on and her dress fell back down, hiding her from me.
I flipped it up, then curled my arm around her to lift her higher onto her toes to line us up. With my other hand, I yanked her thong aside and drove into her.
She cried out and I dragged the hand around her waist up to cover her mouth. She bit down on my hand as I drove into her over and over. Her perfect body took whatever I dished out.
She whimpered and flooded around me, my hips snapping forward with such force my own teeth clicked shut. I lowered my mouth to her shoulder, biting gently through the cashmere.
She threw back her head and I moved to her neck. My name was muffled by my fingers as she broke for me.
Broke me.
Renewed me.
Ended me.
I drove into her again and again as she clasped tight around my cock. I kept driving inside, unable to slow the aching needs raging in me.
She reached back to grip my neck, my shoulder, anything she could reach, her touch centering me despite the endless hunger for her I couldn’t begin to satisfy.
I slipped my free hand between us and found her clit, slick with her arousal and swollen tight. I needed her to go over again, needed the punishing grip of her pussy to push me over.
She twisted her head away from my hand and our mouths clashed as I swallowed her screams, and she took my groans. As I finally let go and jerked inside of her one last time, emptying myself into the condom.
The room went dark for a moment then there was nothing but our panting breaths as I gradually came back to myself.
Slim shafts of light barely dented the darkness we were in.
Then her hand rose to cup my face. “You okay?”
“Not really.”
She laughed. “Welcome to the club.”
Voices filtered into our safe little hidey hole.
I pressed a kiss to her neck. “Reality coming.”
“At least I did first,” she quipped.
We both laughed as we made ourselves presentable. When we were finished, this time, it was Lyric dragging me down the hall.
This time, toward the light.