The delicious stroke of the brush

The delicious stroke of the brush The delicious stroke of the brush

Status: Finished

Genre: Erotica

Details

Status: Finished

Genre: Erotica

Summary

Every stroke of his brush sparks an overwhelming reaction from me. Art is expression, passion and a gift, but so is sex and I've been blessed with both in the form of Isaac...

Summary

Every stroke of his brush sparks an overwhelming reaction from me. Art is expression, passion and a gift, but so is sex and I've been blessed with both in the form of Isaac...

Content

Submitted: June 08, 2015

A A A | A A A

Content

Submitted: June 08, 2015

A A A

A A A


I can feel his eyes on me. Those baby blues that draw me in every time. I love him. I love everything about him from his beautiful face, his perfect body to the slight frown on his forehead from concentration. 

He's an enigma at times. More often than not he's quiet and gives nothing away. It leaves me nervous because I've always been in control, always been strong, but as soon as I cross the threshold into his studio, it leaves me. I drain just from the sight of him. That impossibly beautiful smile that's always teased with a hint of sadness. It never reaches his eyes, but it doesn't take away from them either. They're a beauty on their own, a beacon that is guaranteed to paralyse me upon sight. 

"Can I draw you?" Was the question he asked. The first words he'd ever said to me just three months ago. Admittedly I was reluctant at first, but now I'm hooked. I'm addicted to all of it from our time together, the painting, the incredible sex to the rare moments when he lets his guard down and let's me in. 

I've been chipping away at his hard exterior since the first time I let him touch me. It was a day of firsts for me back then. My first time with him, my first fuck in an elevator and the first time I'd ever begged for anything. I was weak, I still am, but it can't be helped. 

"Your skin is luminous with radiance darling, a rare find..." He spoke sending shivers down my spine as I lay on the sofa in my relaxed pose. I watched him tuck a long strand of his shoulder length hair behind his ear and felt the air around my naked body charge with the heat. 

There is no better feeling, no word good enough to explain how he makes me feel about myself. I feel young again, not forty but twenty. I walk on air, dance with the clouds and touch the heavens whenever I'm with him. My tortured artist, my lover, my everything. 

I can't see his canvas, but I know it'll be out of this world. The studio is full of pictures of me. All drawn from our moments together. He is just as addicted to me in some ways, but I know that my feelings run deeper. Like I said before, he gives nothing away and any love in his heart is hidden by his stoic shell. 

I let my eyes travel down his shirtless torso. He is covered in tattoos, each one so detailed, so exquisite that he becomes a masterpiece all on his own. 

I lick my lips at the sight of him. Every muscle begs for my attention without him even having to try. The ripped jeans hang low on his body as he sits on his stool looking lost in his work. The passion for his art is a massive turn on.

Every stroke of his brush makes my insides melt. I'm dribbling between my legs as my throbbing lips prepare for what's next. The anticipation is a killer. He always paints me first. Always worships my body with his mind before anything else. 

I can't stand the heat as it emanates from my body becoming almost volcanic. I need him, need those talented hands on me, need his hard cock inside me as he fucks me like a champion. My heart hammered in my chest as the desire pumped through me like a rush. 

Stroke, stroke, stroke. Damn that brush, damn this God and his blissful torture. The corner of his mouth raised slightly in a smirk making me bite my lip as he oozed gorgeousness. He knows how he affects me, knows that he kills me with this and I know that he thoroughly enjoys it. 

I couldn't take it. I closed my eyes as he reduced me to a desperate fool. I imagined that he was there. That his warm skin was on top of mine and it was his fingertips circling my hardened nipples. I moaned as my imagination worked it's magic. Slight teasing turned into firm grasping as my hands groped my breasts causing me to arch my back with delight. 

I let one hand travel south as I opened my legs and traced one finger down my crease. I tweaked my clit as it quivered in a rhythm with my opening. I moaned again as I pinched my bottom lip in my teeth. I mopped up some of the juices with my ever wandering hand and plunged two digits inside my hungry opening. I pumped them in and out at pace as the pleasure built inside of me. 

I opened my eyes to see him kneeling beside me looking consumed by the sight of me. I never faltered, never stopped, but kept my eyes on him. I enjoyed the sudden need coming from him in invisible waves. He looks torn, his eyes are wild as he licks his lips and splits his focus between my face and the most intimate part of me. 

I'm close and my breathing starts to pant as his does. I moaned again as I picked up the pace of my plunging fingers. The friction against my juices creating a squelching sound that only amplifies the charged air around us. My eyes close again as my body erupts. 

"Keep them open, don't take them off me!" He demanded but the words dripped with a despair that I know only too well. I stared at him, gazed deep into those glimmering crystals that show me his soul. I moaned loudly as my fingers pushed me over the edge and he was right there with me. He never moved, never touched me once, yet I felt like he was all over me. He's a part of me, he's in my blood and has taken over my mind. I can't escape him. 

"Stand..." He says softly, but the demand was there again. He's a man that knows what he wants and I love giving it to him. His wish is my command and it has been since day one.

 My legs are still tingling as I get up and a few droplets of my juices run down my leg. None if that matters however when I see the way he is looking at me. He is still kneeling and looking almost like the weaker one, almost. I swallowed hard as the want in his eyes blazed as they wandered down my body. He looks to be devouring me with them just as he does when he paints. 

He pushed my knee to the side slightly and made my heart race as he traced each of the droplets journey up my thigh with his tongue. I felt like grabbing that beautiful head and smothering him, but I controlled myself, just. 

I shivered with desire as he sucked my glistening fingers free of the same sweet nectar that he loves. When he closed his eyes and groaned slightly I almost died. I was breathless and beyond ready for him. But watching him lose it at the taste of me sparked a fire inside me. It fed my ego, made me stronger and  
my inner goddess was beaming. 

He stood then all of a sudden as if his mind was made up about something. He grabbed my hand and pulled me over to the bed, which looks different today. 

"What's this?" I asked as my over excited heart pummelled my rib cage. There is no bedding, nothing but what looks like a soft sheet of card. I grazed it with my fingertips and upon seeing him pick up a tub of paint, my stomach did somersaults with glee. The knowing grin on his face matched my own as he took off the lid and closed the gap between us. 

"Lie down..." He said huskily making my knees weak. I climbed on top of the canvas and ran my hands over it with confusion. It feels warm, comfortably so and I turned to ask him. He beat me to it. My mind reader. "It's heated" he smiled as he climbed on next to me with the paint gripped in his hands. 

I was so ready for him. So ready for whatever we were about to do. He leaned up on his elbow and started to stroke his finger around my nipple as he had done in my head earlier. Only this time it was over the top. It was better than anything I could imagine. He pinched my raised nipple before sucking on it. He then groped both breasts in his hands as my spine arched from the sensation. 

"You're a goddess!" He sighed as his own desire started to take hold of him and the sight is all I need to start losing it again. My throbbing lips between my thighs spurred me on to free that straining erection from his jeans. He shimmied out of them and allowed me to wrap my hand around the shaft whilst he picked up the paint. 

I giggled slightly as he poured it over my quivering body, covering me in a deep scarlet colour. Red the colour if love, of passion and I have both for him in abundance. He ran his hands over my body making me rise up to meet his touch. The paint spread with every stroke and I'm now covered. 

I wanted in on the fun. I rolled him onto his back and straddled him. No doubt my legs have already started our work of art as my painted limbs touch the canvas. I took the remainder of the tub and poured it over my delicious artist. To my surprise the paint was green. How he did it I'll never know. Every crevice, every muscle was covered in seconds. 

As I ran my hands up his thighs, I couldn't resist tracing my tongue up his throbbing shaft. It was practically pulsing and the sight of his seed dripping out of the end caused a stir inside me. 

Suddenly I was ravenous and I sucked the tip. I licked up and down the tiny slit and stole a glance at him. He is watching as he always does, but his eyes are distant as he lost himself in his world. A world that I am desperate to be a part of. 

The feel of his fingers stroking my hair ties my stomach in knots. I sucked harder and took him to the back of my throat wanting to devour every inch of him. The low growls coming from him made my inner goddess sing.  

I can't take anymore and my own intense need for release took over. I lowered myself down onto his member and started to ride him. I kept it slow at first wanting to enjoy the feel of him inside me. Wanting to savour the sensation of my wetness closing in around him. I ran my hands up his chest and mixed my red with his green creating a slight brown colour. 

He thrust inside me as he met my rolling hips. I whipped my head back as his hands cupped my breasts again. I cried out his name as the pleasure took hold of me. 

He sat up to meet me and clung to me before kissing me finally. The feel of his tongue in my mouth was almost as heavenly as the cock pounding my sweet spot. He sucked my bottom lip before taking it between his teeth with a devilish look in his eyes. 

Before I knew it I was on my back with my legs resting against his chest as he ploughed into me. The feel of him was magic, on a different plane and in that moment were together in every sense of the word. He slowed his pace. It was intense, sensual and overpoweringly emotional as his cock pushed deeper inside me. We were completely naked, stripped bare and free of our doubts and worries. As his eyes found mine the connection was deepened. Every thrust pushed us closer together. In that moment our worlds had collided. 

Just as I knew it would, his demons returned and his guard was back up in seconds. My tortured artist, my enigma. The connection was broken as he looked away and concentrated on fucking me. He was a man on a mission again. The urgency returned and the rapid pace with it. He slammed himself in and out in a wild frenzy making us both moan loudly. 

He manoeuvred my body round and turned me so I was bending before he rammed himself back inside. I watched as my hands printed beneath me. They dragged with the force of every thrust and I pushed off the canvas to meet him every time. I started to tense and knew I was seconds away now. He gripped my hips harder as he pounded into me at pace. The rhythm of our bodies creating art beneath us as the paint mixed on the canvas. 

"Fuck!" He yelled out as he exploded  inside me and filled me with that delicious seed. My gift. It is rare that he allows it. Normally there's a barrier of rubber between me and my sticky treat. That can't be helped either and only when he is feeling particularly desperate for me does he slip like this. 

He pulled out and lay back on the bed. I curled up next to him and rested my hand on his colour mixed chest. Tears stung as he entwined his fingers with my own. Another first. I smiled at him but he never returned it. Just as I knew he wouldn't. I found the chink in his armour today and I'll just have to enjoy it while I can. It will expire shortly, but it's worth every second of waiting for it. 

"This was the last time darling. This canvas is for you. A gift from me to remember our time together..." He sighed as he gripped my hand tighter. I choked up. Where the hell has this come from? I wanted to ask the same but no words would come out. Only tears. He stroked them away almost lovingly making me break in half. "Please don't cry angel, you'll always be my greatest masterpiece. This was only ever supposed to be business. We said no feelings and..." 

"Well I can't help that can I? I'd have to be dead inside not to be affected by the past few months. Dead like you!" I sniped and felt the sting if my own words probably more then he did. I felt betrayed. "You used me!" 

"No darling, it is you that has been using me. That's why you acquired my services remember? It isn't the paintings you buy angel and we both know that. Just as I know that your wedding ring is in your purse and that your husband has no time for you. The selfish fool doesn't know what he's got...." He said looking unaffected by his words as he said them. As though destroying me was nothing to him. I had to cut him off. Couldn't give him the chance to cushion his blow with my suffering marriage. A marriage that I had thought I'd hidden well. 

"And you do know what he's got do you? You know me? You know nothing! When I walked into that gallery it was you that started this. You asked to paint me and set the wheels in motion..." I snapped and couldn't stop the sob as it left me. The feel of his arms around me was both heavenly and heartbreaking. I wanted it to last forever but I knew it would be the last time. 

"I meant it! I wanted to paint you but I never intended to make you a client. You chose that and I was nothing but straight with you. I don't live an easy life and I won't explain my choices to anyone. I have to end this because I'm not worried about your feelings darling, I'm worried about mine. I look forward to seeing you everyday. I picture your face when I'm with other women and I ache for you each night. I've never liked affection or had any use for it and you make me want to hold you, to be held..." He trailed off looking the picture of shame and making the knife plunge in deeper. Now I feel an inexplicable guilt for things that are way beyond my control. All I know for sure us that I can't lose him. Especially after he's just admitted that he's got feelings himself.

I leaned up and took his face into my hands. He looks vulnerable, lost and completely out of his comfort zone. "Isaac you mean everything to me. I feel it to, everything you just described is my life everyday. Waking up in an empty bed because my husband is at his office in New York or Hong Kong. I'm just as alone as you are and for a bloke as shrewd as you, I can't believe you're missing the big picture here! We found each other. I was miserable, you were miserable and this was born. You said yourself that you're painting more now because you're inspired. Don't stop it now. Be with me. I'll leave Marty and you can stop selling yourself. Give up this life because you're worth more. Just be with me please..." 

Both of his eyes glistened with tears, but that's the only giveaway that he feels anything at this moment. He is unreadable other then those few precious drops he is allowing me. I wait with baited breath and a sickening feeling in my gut for his answer. It feels like an age as he weighs it all up in his mind. 

"Let's get a shower..." He said as he slipped out of my grasp and got off the canvas. I followed slowly and stood feeling numb. Everything is still up in the air. 

I turned to take a look at our masterpiece, the expression of our love and it made me ache as I eyed the colours. A mix of red and green tinged with brown. Handprints and big drops mixed with other shapes from our actions. It is beautiful.

Suddenly I feel his arms around me as his head rests on my shoulder. The security enveloped me and I savoured it. He still hasn't answered me and I'm scared to death of pushing him. 

"I think we'll hang that above our bed..." He cooed in my ear before nibbling it slightly and sending my insides into a blazing frenzy. The relief is overwhelming. He said yes. My tortured artist, my God and now, my man. 


© Copyright 2017 Laura Lewis . All rights reserved.

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