Page 19 of Inappropriately Matched

First, I try to move around some furniture.

“Stop that,” Holt orders, before getting off the bed and taking possession of the heavy chair I’ve been trying to move.

“Where do you want this?” He’s gloriously naked, and I have to keep my eyes off his cock, or I’ll forget everything.

I quickly show him where I want the chair. I direct him to move two more. When the chairs are arranged just the way I want them, next to each other but slightly at different angles, I press into Holt’s chest and push him onto a chair. From the bed, I pull Steele and Ryder by their wrists and push them into the remaining chairs.

“Don’t move.”

I rummage through the bags I’ve yet to unpack and find an easel, canvas, and some paint and brushes.

“I need to capture this right now.” I set up my canvas and get my paints ready. “I’m going to paint you.”

“You are?” Steele drawls, leans back in the chair, and spreads his legs. Holt and Ryder do the same. If my tongue wasn’t attached to my lingual frenulum, I’d have swallowed it.

They’re so big they fill the chairs. They’re so intimidating, yet smooth and sexy. I turned a lusty red at the sight of their fully erect cocks lying heavily on their stomachs. Deary god.

I look down to see where their attention seems focused and find one of my boobs escaped the shirt and stares at them. They’d just spent the whole night touching me, rolling my nipple between their fingers, squeezing me, tweaking me, biting me, and sucking me as if I contained some ambrosia and if they sucked harder, they’d get to it. And they’re still hard from just a peek from the shirt.

But that doesn’t come close to anything I feel about them. They are euphorically gorgeous. And I intend to capture every vein, every curve of muscle, every ridge, every scar, and the width, length, and veins of their cocks... and their beautiful, rugged faces. I’m going to call this paintingClemMine.

“Stay hard,” I order, and I’m not imagining it when their cocks honestly, truly twitch and get bigger.

I press my thighs tightly together, not listening to my pussy when she demands I go and sit on their laps immediately, no, on their handsome faces first. Yes, after one night with them, I’m a sexual deviant. Sue me.

I get to work, my brows dropping in concentration as I create my masterpieces. It’s going to be perfect.

Mine. All mine. I don’t care that there’s an expiration date on my possessions. I just conveniently tuck that fact away.

They sit so patiently for me when I know it’s killing them not to move, when all they want to tell me is to wrap it up.

Finally, I’m done.

I can’t stop smiling.ClemMine.

I turn the canvas around to show them. Exaggerated stick figures with huge bumps for muscles, dots in the color of their eyes for eyes, a line for their noses, and another for their mouths. Eight little blocks for their abs. I did spend an enormous amount of time on their cocks, though, which came out like tree trunks.

“You don’t like it,” I say, making my bottom lip quiver and my eyes sad. They fumble over themselves to say something.

“Well, I never claimed to be any good at it,” I say cheekily. “Sorry, not sorry, and also jokes on you,” I add, laughing out loud at their discomfort. Painting is my comfort zone. I can’t paint to save my life, but who cares?

“You little minx,” Holt says, leaping out of his chair to catch me. I try to get away, but I’m no match for the three of them.

They quickly divest me of the shirt and then lay me down flat on my stomach on a padded leather bench. My face hangs over the edge, and my arms are positioned at my sides. My squeals, kicks, and bites mean nothing to them.

From Tierney’s toy basket, they retrieve a roll of silk rope and proceed to bind me to the bench. Steele wraps the rope around my calves and under the bench. Ryder does the same at the top of my thighs, and Holt secures a piece in the middle of my back, which goes around my arms and under the bench as well.

I twist my head to see Steele grab a tube of lube and Ryder a butt plug from the basket. I’m going to kill Tierney. Yet my trembling pussy floods with liquid arousal, so much I can feel the wetness against the leather of the bench. Oh no.

I close my eyes as they run their hands over the shape of my butt. I press into the bench because the fire in my nipples destroys me.

“What are you doing?” I ask, trying to get free. But the wriggle room they’ve allowed me under the ropes is not enough to slip out of them.

“Oh, we’re painters too,” Ryder says.

“What?” I ask, stunned.

“You’ll see,” Steele says softly as Holt and Ryder part my ass cheeks, and he places the nozzle of the tube into my ass.

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