Page 17 of Painter's Obsession

She turns to face me fully, leaning forward just enough to make her intentions clear. Her tits strain against the red fabric, practically daring me to say no.

“Oh, too bougie for you, or what?”

I shrug, searching for words to describe whatever the hell it is I see—whatever the hell it is I hate. But nothing comes, so I grunt and take a seat beside her, my body heavy with unspoken truths.

“I don’t know. Just don’t like him.”

Our knees touch as she leans in, the heat of her presence almost distracting. Almost.

“He’s probably going to fuck her and leave her,” she says bluntly, her red lips wrapping around the words like a weapon.

Disgust twists my features because I know she’s right, but it’s not my place to interfere in Gabby’s life. Or maybe it is. Maybe it always has been.

“You think I don’t know that? The asshole’s already got her eating out of the palm of his hand,” I bite out, exhaling smoke as I watch the tendrils twist and curl with hers, tangling in the breeze like secrets shared between us.

“She’s really into him,” I add, my voice softer now.

Linda clicks her tongue, leaning back in her chair, her cigarette finding the ashtray on the armrest. “Poor girl,” she says, shaking her head. “She’s beautiful, but men like that don’t marry women from around here.”

“That’s her business,” I reply, shifting in my seat. “I’m here for something else.”

Her brows lift at that, a devilish gleam lighting her hazel eyes. She bites her lower lip, the movement slow, calculated.

“And what’s that, papi?” she purrs, her voice dripping honeyed sin as her hand bunches her dress higher, baring the slick, naked heat of her pussy. No panties. Just how I like it—nice and easy.

I lean forward, my hand brushing her knee, but the touch feels hollow. The heat of her skin against mine doesn’t ignite the fire I’m chasing. Her gaze locks with mine, daring me to take more, to lose myself in her. But as her lips curve in that knowing smirk, all I see is him.

The sharp angles of his face. The intensity in his eyes. The weight of something I can’t name, something I can’t escape.

Linda presses closer, her voice a whisper against my ear. “What are you waiting for?”

What am I waiting for?

The answer gnaws at me, heavy and suffocating, as I let my hand trail higher. Her skin is warm, inviting, but it’s not enough. It’s never enough.

Not when my mind is elsewhere, consumed by shadows I can’t shake and truths I’m too afraid to face.

I lean back, a smirk tugging at my lips as I pull a condom from my pocket. Linda rises from her chair, closing the distance between us with the confidence of a woman who knows exactly what she wants. Her manicured nails make quick work of my zipper, red-tipped fingers pulling my cock free as the cool night air teases my skin. The sudden warmth of her mouth follows, hot and wet, dragging a hiss from my throat as the foil packet slips from my hand.

I watch her move, hazel eyes locked on mine, deliberate and unblinking. Her lips glide over my length, her tongue teasing, her pace steady—like she’s got all the time in the world. Linda knows why we’re here. Her husband’s too busy chasing men behind her back to give her any attention, and she stays for the kids. I’m her escape from a loveless marriage, and she’s mine from the confusion clawing at me since I walked out of prison.

And that damned memory.

It creeps in, unbidden. Heat pools in my core as I remember him—his body pressing against mine, the way it felt when he pushed inside me. But it’s not my cellmate I’m imagining. It’s him.Prince Charming.

“Fuck,” I groan, the sound guttural, ripped from somewhere deep within me as I clench my jaw, trying to shove the thought away. But it lingers. Dark eyes. Prince Charming. On his knees for me.

“Jesus,” I choke out, the name tumbling from my lips like a confession. My fists tighten, tension coiling in my body as Linda’s head stills, her tongue pausing mid-stroke.

“You okay?” she asks, concern flickering across her face.

I meet her gaze, but I’m not seeing Linda anymore. I’m seeinghim.And I don’t know what the hell to do with it.

The condom brushes my lips as I rip it open with my teeth, tossing the wrapper aside. “Ride me,” I murmur, handing it to Linda. She doesn’t waste time, pulling off my cock just long enough to roll the latex down my shaft with practiced ease. The second she sinks onto me, we both groan. My fingers dig into her hips, grounding myself in the movement as her body rocks against mine.

My gaze flickers, unbidden, to my sister’s window. The light is off, but the shadows moving behind her curtains catch my attention. My stomach tightens as I watch the silhouette of his broad back, tall and imposing. Even in darkness, he covers her completely.

“Ay, papi. Qué rico,” Linda moans, her tone exaggerated to the point of parody. If she weren’t grinding on me, I might’ve laughed. Instead, her voice grates against my ears. My erection softens as my focus locks on that window.

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