9. Caspian
9
CASPIAN
R ain hammers down against the windows, creating running shadows all across the studio floor. Classical music weaves through the air, mingling with the soft hum of the air conditioner, which works overtime to keep the room at the optimum temperature. Despite the rain, heat clings to everything, teasing just how hot summer is going to be.
I prefer it this way, though. The heat keeps the paint at just the right temperature, on the cusp of soft so that it melts perfectly when it hits my chest. The chill of the paint upon my skin is a welcome refuge from the warmth as the colors drip together, running over my body like the rainbow colors scattering from the edge of a prism.
My jeans are completely ruined but other than a brief thought about where to replace them, I don’t dwell on it. My focus is on the canvas before me as my body paints a picture that’s a secret even to me. Painting with my body is a calming, sensual activity and peace follows the waves of relaxation that pulse through me. Moving to the music, I press my paint-covered arms, chest, and abdomen against the canvas, flowing back and forth to the music. When I next open my eyes, movement to my left catches my eye and my heart leaps.
Emma.
That absolute stunner of a woman has been on my mind ever since she was here last week. Her bright, wide smile haunts my dreams, to the point that I was beginning to wonder if she was just a visit from Muse and I was being taunted by beauty. Beauty I craved so much that the only peace I’ve found is inside my canvas, using my body as the brush.
She stands just inside the door with a red streak in her hair today. Her crimson tank top clings to her curves like it worships her and my throat runs dry. I’m jealous. Jealous of the fabric that gets to caress her body, cling to her warmth, and soak up every note of laughter and music from her full lips.
Sweeping my arm across the top of my canvas, streaks of red, pink, and blue stain the fabric and I sigh, satisfied, then step away toward the bottles of paint all lined up in a neat row on my trolley. With a press of one button, the music pauses and I bring my attention to Emma, who smiles this sweet, small smile the moment our eyes meet.
“Hi.”
God, I just want to eat her up. Bundle her close and savor her like the expensive treat she is and then keep her with me in my pocket just so I can look and marvel at her stunning features. Her wide, bright green eyes glint out from behind black frames, and her pearly white teeth wink at me as she speaks.
“I hope I’m not interrupting?”
“Not at all,” I assure her smoothly. “How can I help?”
“I was actually just looking for Meghan but…” Emma glances over her shoulder to the deeper part of the studio. All the desks and easels are lined up neatly against the wall. “I guess I just missed her.”
A sly smile creeps across my face. “Class ended more than half an hour ago,” I tell her. “Did your friend not text you?” Is it wishful thinking to hope she came here to see me? I barely spared a thought to all the rules I’d break just having a taste of her, but our flirting last week left me so hot and bothered I came twice the moment I got home.
Emma pulls her phone from her pocket. The sight of the rainbow phone cover makes me smile. Her belongings are just as vibrant as her personality it seems.
“Maybe,” Emma shrugs, then she glances up at me over the top of her glasses. “Reception on campus can be so spotty.”
“Indeed.” I reach for the paint in front of me as what’s on my skin slowly starts to tack to my body. Emma walks forward and I’m suddenly reminded of what Meghan told me earlier when explaining why she was late for class.
“Are you alright?”
Emma’s brow lifts faintly and confusion flashes in her eyes. “Hmm?”
“Meghan was late to class today after giving you a lift. She explained what happened to your car and went on quite the rant about the rising surge of crime on campus. Having one’s personal possessions violated like that can be terrifying.”
Emma’s fingers toy with the hem of her shirt and she shakes her head so hard that her shorter hair bobbles around her ears. “I’m fine. I wasn’t anywhere near my car when it happened and my dad is paying for the repairs under the strict instruction that I pay him back the second I get the funds to.”
By the way her tone dips, I suspect she doesn’t get along well with her father, and a burst of sympathy warms my chest. Before I can offer that though, she swiftly changes the subject.
“What are you doing?”
“This?” My head tilts toward the canvas. “In times where I feel overwhelmed or distracted, I find painting with my body to be very therapeutic. Becoming one with the paint and the canvas helps to center me back to where my focus should be.”
In theory. Right now, having Emma at arm’s length is undoing every bit of centering I achieved.
“That’s cool, I like it.” She smiles so brightly, then her gaze lands on me with such hot intensity that it’s a wonder the paint on me doesn’t immediately evaporate. “Shame to see your tattoos all covered up though. They’re amazing.”
“You think so?” I look down at my shoulder and use the nearby rag to clean away some of the paint. She takes a half-step forward and my heart flutters unexpectedly in my chest. The subtle curve of the corner of her mouth, coupled with the intensity of her gaze, sets me on fire inside. I can’t breathe.
What’s happening to me? Never have I felt so utterly enthralled by a person in such a short space of time.
“I’d love to get a tattoo,” Emma says, stepping closer still. “Yours are so beautiful. The way the wings caress your body like they’re hugging you from behind, and then here with the flowers.” Her fingertips brush my forearm and all sense escapes me.
I have to taste her. Just one taste. If I kiss her then she can reject me and I can move on with my life, carving my pain into my next artistic feat.
Emma leans in close to study the eagle on my left shoulder, and with no hesitation, I lean down and capture her sweet, soft lips in a sudden, greedy kiss.
Every nerve inside me jumps on high alert the second we make contact. I’m burning alive on the inside and out, the flames consume me and I could fade away in this moment, utterly satisfied.
Then Emma kisses me back.
She aligns her body with mine and leans in. A soft, sweet sound escapes her throat when our kiss breaks momentarily for air, and it drives my hunger for her even deeper. All thought escapes my mind, there is only action fueled by need. With swift hands, I tear at her clothes and do my best to remove them without getting them covered in paint. I fail, but neither of us mind.
I’m utterly and completely addicted. The first touch of her hot skin beneath my fingertips is almost painful and heat pools like lava just below my navel. I kiss her hard, sliding my tongue into her mouth and tracing every detail while dancing with her tongue. She moans and I swallow each one. Wrapping my arms around her body, it takes no effort at all to lower her to the floor where we land on a spare blank canvas.
I position over her and kiss her until my lungs burn, and then I keep going until her own desire for air breaks our connection. That doesn’t stop me. Her fingers tease into my hair, dance across my shoulders, and spark fire down my back when her nails dig in as I kiss across the valley of her breasts and take her stiff, pink nipples into my mouth. She arches into me and I press her down onto the canvas.
My cock swells so rapidly it’s almost painful and I can’t control my hips. Grinding against her gorgeous, thick thigh, I whimper my pleasure against her breasts while caressing her full curves and leaving a trail of bite marks down her ribs. She pants and moans, and the heat that builds between us is smothering.
When I add in paint, pouring the vibrant colors over the both of us, there’s nothing stopping my all-consuming desperation to be inside her. Our fingers intertwine, our breaths mingle like secrets in the air between us and when my cock sinks into the enticing, silken heat of her pussy, I am completely hooked.
I give myself over to her. Every thrust pulls a deep moan from her chest. I smear the pain over her body with my own, and as we fuck and writhe together, the canvas beneath us creates an intricate artwork of our movements. I fuck her hard, pounding as deep into her as I can reach. I never want to leave. I never want to stop tasting her lips or her skin. She smells like jasmine, soft and floral with a warm hint of cocoa and I can’t stop breathing her in. Pressing my face into her throat, I crush her against me and fuck her harder, driving her moans into screams as my hips pound harder still.
I want to imprint myself inside her so a part of me will always be there.
“Fuck!” Emma screams loudly and her entire body turns rigid beneath me. Both her hands cup my face and our mouths collide just for a second. “Caspian!”
Her face lights up when she orgasms. Tension ripples through her features, followed by an innocent peace. I’d soak it up for longer but her pussy clamps down around me like a vise and I am weak against my own pleasure. My orgasm follows a second later and I drive my cock deep inside her, making sure my cum is packed in as deeply as possible.
We’re suspended in pleasure for a few moments, then we collapse together, panting as limbs go weak and the aftershocks of pleasure tremble through our bodies.
“Holy…shit,” Emma gasps. “That was…” She licks her lips and I can’t resist another kiss. I chase her tongue back into her mouth and she moans softly.
“Good?” I ask, seeking her approval.
“So good,” Emma groans. “Is this how you do all your artwork?” Her green eyes lock onto me. “Sex to help re-center yourself.”
“It wasn’t my intention,” I admit, gently trying to remove a dot of yellow paint from her cheek but end up making the smear worse. “But it was indeed beautiful.”
“Fuck. I hope this paint is non-toxic.”
“Of course it is,” I chuckle, nudging my nose against her temple, then laying a kiss there. “You are safe with me.”
Weighted words that mean so much more than just in this moment. We lie together for a long time, quietly discussing the art around the studio while I study every beautiful inch of her face. Eventually, the tacky dryness of the paint forces us to move and as we stand, the artwork created by our fucking reveals itself.
“Wow,” Emma breathes as she redresses herself. “That looks so cool.”
“Indeed.” Pulling my jeans back on, I wince internally to see that Emma’s clothes did not escape the paint. “I have some overalls in the cupboard I think, if you’d prefer?”
She glances down at herself, then presses two paint-stained hands to her tank top and smirks when she leaves faint paint stains. “Nah, I like this. Thank you though, that was…” Her eyes meet mine and her smile is so wide that the corners crinkle. “That was amazing.”
“Likewise.” I reach out for her but noise from her phone steals her attention. She glances at it and frowns, then shoots me a bright smile.
“I’m sorry, I have to go. But—” She eyes me up and down and bites her lower lip in such a way that my soft cock stirs to life once again. “I’ll definitely come back to admire some more art.”
“Please do,” I reply as my throat tightens and another deep pulse of desire sweeps through me.
Then, Emma is gone, and I return to the quiet silence of my studio, broken only by the pounding rain and hum of the AC. Truthfully, I should discard the canvas because it stands as evidence of how many rules I just broke giving in to her.
But I’m not going to. Hauling the canvas from the floor, I pick up a black marker from the trolley and quickly sign my name. I’m going to frame this instead.
After one taste of Emma, I’m addicted and I want to cherish every moment.