Page 14 of The Painter and His Poet

I blink up at him, and before I can even contemplate his question, I find myself saying, “At this point, I’m pretty sure that I’ll do anything you ask.”

FIVE

STERLING

My dick strains against the zipper of my jeans as I graze my thumb over Friday’s nipple and she arches into my hand. Believe me, it’s taking every last ounce of self-restraint not to rip her clothes from her body, sink inside of her, and give into this attraction between us, an attraction I’veneverfelt before.

I’m also fully aware that my request for her to sing for me whilst we’re on the verge of having sex might seem a little odd, but Ineedto hear her sing again. I need to see the vibrant colours that her beautiful voice evokes within me. I want to sink into her with those colours wrapping around us both and fully immerse myself in all that she is. I’ve never wanted anything more in my entire life.

“Will you?” I repeat.

“I can’t promise I’ll be any good,” she says, her chest heaving as I continue to palm her breast.

“Any good?” I ask, my gaze dropping to the skin of her lower stomach where my fingers still graze her, making her shudder.

“I’m a little nervous.” She lets out a shy laugh as my gaze flicks back up to meet hers. “And entirely turned on. I might mess up.”

“I’m nervous too,” I admit, but not, perhaps, for the reason she might assume.

I’m not inexperienced when it comes to sex, but I wasn’t lying when I said that I haven’t ever brought a woman back to my sanctuary. This is completely out of the ordinary for me. I’m very protective of my personal space and who I allow into it.

“You are?”

“Like I said, you’re the first woman I’ve brought back to my place. I’m…” I heave out a breath. “I’m not a particularly social person, more of a hermit to be honest,” I admit, revealing something so fucking personal to me, that I surprise even myself. “Does that turn you off?”

“Not at all. It’s a relief.”

“How so?”

“Firstly, the fact that you’re not afraid to be honest with me, is attractive. Secondly, I’ve spent my whole life around people who pretend to be someone they’re not, with huge personalities and even bigger egos. It’s exhausting being around people like that,” she adds, slamming her mouth shut as though she’s said too much.

I don’t push her on the subject, or ask her who she’s talking about. Instead I ask, “Do you think it’s odd that I’m asking you to sing instead of taking you to bed?”

She reaches up and cups my cheek, her fingers stroking my skin as she contemplates my question. “Admittedly, your request isunusual, given the current circumstances,” she replies, letting out another soft moan as I gently tease her nipple with the pad of my thumb, “But no, I don’t think it’s odd–” She pauses, gasping, as I lean forward and dip my head to her stomach, brushing a kiss there.

“That’s good to know,” I mumble against her skin.

“I’m actually flattered that you want to hear me sing again,” she continues, her fingers stroking through my hair. “It will make this night even more memorable, I’m sure.”

“It will,” I agree, resting my cheek against her stomach, loving how gentle she caresses me. I’ve never felt more wired, more tense, yet inexplicably comfortable in another person’s presence. That comfortableness is new to me. I like it.

“Your skin is so fucking soft,” I murmur, the tip of my nose gliding upwards, wishing there wasn’t any clothes between us. Reluctantly, I lean back, but not before I press another soft kiss against her lips.

“Youreallywant me to sing right now?” she murmurs against my mouth.

“More than I’ve wanted anything,” I reply hoarsely, forcing myself away from her, giving us both space to breathe.

She swallows hard, her throat bobbing as she gets to her feet. “What song?”

“Surprise me,” I reply, my fingers pressing into my still damp jeans as I watch her chew on her lip as she decides, so fucking thankful she’s willing to do this for me.

“I think I have the perfect song,” she says after a beat, stepping back and blowing out a long, slow breath. “Just bare with me, okay?”

“I’m not going anywhere,” I say, wanting to reach out and pull her close, but knowing that if I do I won’t be able to stop there. I’ll want to bury my head between her legs and feast on her pussy. I’ll want to kiss every single inch of her body. I’ll want to find nirvana inside of her. Instead, I grit my jaw, ignore my throbbing cock, and wait.

With one last soft smile, she closes her eyes, presses her palm against the centre of her chest and begins to sing.

“My God,” I mutter, as colour immediately forms at the edges of my vision, flowing inwards, twisting and tumbling, merging and shimmering, encasing Friday in so much colour.

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