Chapter 28 Taylor
Taylor
While Knox finishes talking to Phoenix, I get busy.
Ignoring Knox’s request to put on what I brought—that part will come later—I set the bag with the lingerie in his room and make my way down the short hall to the guest room. This project requires space and a room that isn’t used too often.
I uncap the tube, pull out the plastic sheet, and quickly spread it across the floor, securing it with furniture in case things get a little wild. I’m sure Knox would not appreciate paint all over his pristine carpet.
Next, I unroll the canvas, laying it on top of the sheet, and finally, I tip the tube so the bottles of paint fall onto the bed. Light blue, dark blue, yellow, pink, and white bottles litter the comforter.
I line them up on the nightstand and hurriedly strip naked, knowing Knox will come looking for me any minute.
Sure enough, I hear my name ring out down the hallway a moment later.
“Tay?” he yells, making me smile at the sense of urgency, familiarity, and need in his voice.
“Guest room!” I call back, grabbing the light blue paint.
“What are you doing in the gu—” His voice grows louder as he approaches the room and then cuts to total silence as he turns the corner to find me standing on the canvas, cold paint dripping slowly down my bare chest.
“I wanted to paint, remember?” I answer.
I love messy sex. Is that a kink? If it isn’t, it should be. And if it is, I definitely have it. I like it wet, sweaty, and sloppy—the dirtier the better. So much of our short time together has been about pulling Knox out of his shell; now it’s time to show him a little of what’s underneath mine.
“I’ll admit,” he says, stepping into the room, his eyes heating as he watches me trail a hand across my chest, smearing the paint, “this isn’t what I thought you meant.”
His admission makes my smile widen because I know what he thought. Cute little gay boy wants to get out his brushes and paint the rainbow.
“Take your clothes off.” My cock twitches at my command, and Knox notices the movement.
Eyeing me, he begins pulling his shirt over his head. “Why do I get the feeling I’m about to see a side of you I haven’t seen yet?”
I give him a wicked smile, but stay silent. This is going to be another lesson in removing labels.
Yes, I bottom. Happily. I love being railed.
But that’s not all I do or who I am. Sometimes I’m in the mood to do the railing.
A lot of the time, I want to call the shots.
I won’t be fucking Knox today because we aren’t there yet …
but I am going to flip the roles on him.
Show him you don’t solely have to be the giver or receiver.
He unbuttons his pants and slides them down his powerful thighs along with his boxers.
My eyes trail over his naked form. Being toned and sexy as hell after forty is a thing to be commended. Beauty is a gift in our youth, but those who work to gain or maintain that level of fitness as they age possess character traits I admire.
And fuck, am I admiring it now.
Knox tosses his pants through the doorway to protect them from the mess we’re about to make.
“Now what?” he asks, breathing hard.
“Now we paint.” I reach behind me for the rest of the tubes and hold them up, allowing him to choose the color he wants.
He shocks me when he grabs the yellow one. I thought for sure he’d go for the dark blue…maybe even the white.
My surprise must be evident on my face because he chuckles above me before leaning down and whispering, “Thought I’d pick something a little quieter?”
His breath coasting over my skin makes me shudder as I nod, admitting the truth. “You do tend to be more…subdued in your color palette. I figured you’d be more Brad Ford and less Deborah Sussman with this project.”
He makes a clucking noise before saying, “I don’t know who either of those people are, but you know, you really shouldn’t label others.”
I face him and roll my eyes, trying—and failing—to hide my smile.
“I just love that moment when the student becomes the teacher,” I say sarcastically.
Knox kisses me under my ear. “But what a good teacher you are. In fact, I think I’m ready for my next lesson.”
“Give me the paint,” I demand.
He does, and I pop the lid before flipping it upside down and squeezing it over his body as if it were sunscreen.
He shivers at the contact.
Once he’s coated in yellow, I add more light blue to myself, the paint already mixing on my hands. Knox’s paint gets caught in his chest hair, and I can’t wait to see the pattern it makes on the canvas.
I open the navy-blue paint next and squeeze it all over the canvas at our feet.
“Lie down on your stomach,” I instruct.
Knox slowly moves to his hands and knees, and my knees almost buckle at the sight. As soon as he’s prone, I get behind him, my paint-covered hands spreading his cheeks.
He bucks.
“Taylor, what the f—”
I pull my hand back and slap his ass cheek.
He tries to turn around to see me, but I’ve tightened my grip on his ass and he’s too big to twist around that easily.
“Taylor!”
I huff a laugh at how scandalized he sounds.
“Knox!” I mock him in the same tone of voice.
“Let me take a shower or something,” he says.
“And replace your flavor and scent with that of soap? I don’t think so.”
Pulling him wide again, I spit directly on his asshole. His cheeks clench together like he’s trying to keep me out, so I smack his other cheek.
“Damnit, Taylor,” he grunts.
I rub my hand in soothing circles over the painted flesh.
“This is going to be dirty and exactly what I want. I’m going to imprint your flavor on my tongue, and you’re going to let me. I know this is new for you, but I need you to trust me. Trust this is what I want.”
Slowly, he relaxes.
“That’s it,” I encourage, dipping my tongue lower, preparing for my first taste.
One swipe has us both moaning. He tenses, but doesn’t push me away.
I want to sit up and praise him, tell him how fucking good he tastes, but I can’t pull away long enough to get the words out, so I let the sloppy sounds coming from my mouth talk for me. I lick faster, pulling him farther apart.
As my licking becomes more aggressive, he grinds his hips into the canvas.
I wedge my face deeper, wishing I didn’t have so much paint on my hands so I could coax a finger inside his ass.
Scooting back, I drop onto my stomach, hooking my elbows under his thighs, pulling him into me.
I run my tongue from his balls to his hole and smile when he begins rocking his hips, pushing back into me for more.
“That feels really fucking good, but I hate this position,” he grumbles. “I can’t see you, and I can’t touch my dick.”
Taking pity on him, I unhook my arms and tell him to roll onto his back.
The paint smears as he goes, and the yellow from his chest already looks beautiful against the navy blue.
I lean over and grab the light blue tube, painting my stomach, my quads, and my knees before tossing the bottle out of the way and straddling Knox’s hips.
I roll my pelvis, thrusting my dick next to his, and his yellow hands land on my thighs. His eyes stare at the mess of colors on my skin.
“I like how that looks,” he says.
I continue moving against him until we’re both panting, chasing our release. But then I back off.
“Please,” he whispers, punching his hips into me. I’d feel bad about edging him, but I’m putting myself in just as much pain.
“Not yet. We need more paint.”
Knox lets me douse him in the yellow paint before laying my body flat along his. We’re both so coated in the slippery substance, we glide along each other’s bodies easily. The once-cold paint is quickly heating with the rise in the temperature of our skin.
The squelching sounds are heavenly as our bodies create a vacuum and then release.
Planting my hands on either side of Knox’s head, I drag my cock along his as I pull myself forward and push myself back. Knox’s hands clamp down on my hips, shortening my range of motion to pump along his shaft.
It feels good. So fucking good.
I roll over, pulling Knox on top of me, just to make sure we cover the entire canvas, but I can only stand the grind for another minute.
“Shit, Knox, I’m close. Get back on your hands and knees.”
He does as I ask, and I position myself behind him with one of my paint-covered hands threaded between his legs, stroking his cock while I move my face back to his ass. Although his cheeks are covered, his hole is free of paint, and I use my free hand to tug one cheek out to the side.
“Support yourself on one arm and use your other hand to help me spread you open. I want as deep as I can get.”
Knox’s multicolored hand reaches behind him, following my directions. I lap at his hole while stroking him faster. It doesn’t take long before he’s pushing back against me.
“More,” he rasps.
I fuck Knox with my tongue and don’t even recognize the sounds coming out of me when his hand leaves his ass cheek to push my head into his crease even further.
He’s violently thrusting into my fist now.
Every time his hips buck forward, I squeeze my fist, and every time they push back, I meet him with my face until he’s shaking and cussing and spilling his cum onto our canvas.
As soon as he catches his breath, he sits up on his knees and spins around to face me.
“Your turn.”
I hold up my finger in a wait gesture and grab the white paint. When his cum dries, we won’t be able to see it, and that’s no fun. I use that same finger to mix his cum and the white paint in a ‘Z’ pattern. “Now we’ll know where the magic happened,” I say with a grin.
“I thought X was supposed to mark the spot,” he replies with a lighthearted laugh.
Knox looks like a beautiful mess. He has light blue paint on his face and in his beard. Navy blue, light blue, and yellow coat his body everywhere else. I imagine I look similar.
I can tell he’s itching to take the reins, and I happily hand them over since he did so well for me.
He sits back on his heels and pulls me to him, my back to his chest with my own legs tucked under me. My knees are spread wide since my legs are on the outside of his. This position automatically makes my back arch, and I ache to be filled.
Knox wraps one hand around my throat and the other around my leaking dick.
“Is this okay, or do I need to grab the lube?” he asks as he strokes me.
“More paint,” I croak. It’s probably not ideal, and it gets sticky as it dries, but I’m so keyed up from eating Knox’s ass and pulling his orgasm from him that I know this won’t take long.
Replacing his thoroughly painted hand on my dick, and his other hand squeezing slightly at my throat, my body gears up for immediate release as I ride his lap. His softening cock is between my ass cheeks, and the sensation drives me even closer to the edge.
His hand shuttles over my shaft, and I lose it right as his teeth sink into my neck.
Suddenly, Knox bucks his hips forward so violently, I have to catch myself by throwing a hand down on the canvas. He angles my dick forward, and I realize he’s positioning me so my release spills onto the painting like his did.
He works the last drop from me, and then I feel his mouth at my ear. “What color do you want, Princess?”
The term of endearment floats out with such ease.
Part of me acknowledges that Knox is a much better student at removing labels and embracing his fluid sexuality than I was prepared for.
A different part of me fears I’ll have to learn some lessons of my own in order to keep up with the healing he’s achieved.
With my eyes still closed from the rapture I just experienced, I answer, “Pink. Obviously.”
Feeling him lean forward, I open my eyes and watch as Knox squirts the pink paint onto the canvas and swirls his fingers through it, mixing it with my cum, before kissing my cheek and pulling me back against him with a forearm across my stomach.
“You are the most wonderful blend of all the things I never knew I wanted,” he whispers, melting my motherfucking insides like he just injected lava into my veins. “I’ve never done anything like that before.”
“I figured you probably hadn’t,” I choke out around the emotion lodging itself in my throat. “Did you like it?” I ask, talking about my tongue in his ass more than the body paint.
“It’ll take some getting used to, but I didn’t hate it,” he admits.
“For what it’s worth, Knox, you’re a pretty incredible blend of things I knew I wanted but wasn’t sure I’d ever find.”
Again.
As soon as the word enters my mind, I feel like shit.
Stop with the comparison already, I chastise myself.
Suddenly, I feel itchy. The need to fly, to physically run away from this current situation, is overwhelming. I’m in over my head here. I don’t deserve Knox. I’ve somehow fooled him into thinking I have my shit together, and I don’t. Not even close.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” The concern in Knox’s voice hits me square in the face.
“Um, nothing. Why?”
“You’ve tensed up, and your fingernails are biting into my forearms.”
I look down, and sure enough, I’m leaving crescent-moon-shaped marks in his skin.
“Shit. Sorry.” I pull my hand off his forearm.
The worry in his eyes makes me hate myself a little, but he doesn’t press me.
“Let’s go clean up,” he says instead. As I’m getting to my feet, he adds, “Phoenix demanded we go to dinner at his house with everyone tonight. I had to agree, or he threatened to bring them all here…and Phoenix doesn’t make idle threats. ”
My stomach turns.
It’s usually me who gets attached too fast.
“Are…are you sure you want me to meet all your friends?” I ask, trying to keep the panic from rising.
Knox laughs as he turns on the shower. “You’ve already met most of them; you were just concussed at the time and don’t remember.”
“Yeah, but now we’re like…together?” It comes out as a question, because for all the talking we did at breakfast, we still avoided the topic.
He sweeps my paint-crusted hair off my forehead with a smile. “And I couldn’t be happier about it. Cat’s out of the bag, so we might as well face the music.”
Where does his strength come from, I wonder? I try to push all my thoughts aside and focus on getting ready for tonight’s dinner. It’s like Knox’s version of meeting the family since he has no biological family left.
As much as I wish I could stop comparing him and Patrick, it’s impossible not to think about the last time my boyfriend’s family found out about me. Nausea sweeps through me in a very visceral response to that traumatic day.
What was I thinking going down this road again?