Page 33 of The Muse
“This takeover?”
“No. Not only are they a bunch of wankers, they’ll also be trying to screw us over somehow. It’s what they do.” I pour another glass of wine and take it to her, one soft kiss pressed to her lips before I take my seat again. “I don’t necessarily give a shit about any of it, but to my father, the paper is everything. It’s been in my family for generations, and I suspect he wanted me to take over one day. Something I won't be doing if this bid goes through. He’s both troubled and wounded by what’s happening around him. I wish I could help.”
She doesn’t say anything, but what would a ballerina know about the business world? Nothing. And as an artist in her own right, she’s probably absolutely correct to not give it that much thought. We’re not built for it. We’re built for flair and creativity, for emotion and chaos and, in my case, depression. I should think numbers and analytics mean as little to her as they do to me. Albeit, my age and university degree in business do give me a good steer on economics.
“Would you want to take over the business?” she asks.
I pause for a moment, considering the question out there in the air. It might be in my blood, but I've never enjoyed it like he did. Still, it is my name. My ancestry. Years of it. And with youth and a fresh way of thinking, it could have been a good paper again. Too late now, though, according to the email I received from my father earlier today. The initial contract has been passed through the lawyers. "With the right circumstances in place, I might have. The thought's a tad pointless now."
I flip the page and drink some more wine, irritated with the thought of my father in general and specifically his stupidity while I’ve been away. If he’d have just called a few years earlier, given me a little thought and time, I might have been able to help change the direction of the paper before it became too late. Instead, in typical, stubborn Foxton manner, he thought he knew best and carried on with the way my grandfather ran the press.
Sighing, I look her over again, watching the dapples of spring leaves bouncing on her skin from the lamplight outside. “How adventurous are you feeling?” I ask.
“What?”
“Open those legs again.” She moves and gives me a dirty little smile as she inches her legs open. “Grab the wine and pour it over your breasts and stomach, through your legs.”
Her whole body stops moving.
“Why?”
“Because if you want dirty, we’re doing it my way for a while. And that involves me staying over here.”
“You want to draw it?”
“I do. Make yourself come when you’ve poured it.”
Her mouth opens, surprise evident on her features. “That’s … I don’t know what to say about that.” Good. I don’t want her to say anything anyway. Unless it involves some of the dirt she’s after. “I haven’t ever done that in front of someone before.”
I straighten the page down, charcoal balanced in my fingers. “I’m waiting, little Ms Provocative.”
After a few seconds thinking about it, she gently takes hold of the glass and brings it over her chest. “Really? What about the white sheets?”
“Fuck the sheets.”
The gravelled tone of my voice obviously stirs something inside her because she starts pouring the deep, ruby wine almost instantly. It trickles over the contours of her body slowly at first, separating trails in different directions for me to follow. And then the rest of it cascades with a beauty only her body underneath it could provide.
The strength of the lines that get drawn on the page because of it astonishes even me. Harsh, quick strokes, all of them seamlessly reproducing the vision on display. And then her hand starts travelling gingerly over the wine, slim fingers mixing through it until they finally land softly at the apex of her groin.
“Keep going,” grates out of me. “Lower. Play with yourself. Imagine they're my hands if you need to.”
Her head tips back after a few moments, legs spreading wider so she’s got better access. I’d like to keep drawing for an eternity, and do for a while, just about managing to get the spontaneity and emotion down, but just the sight of it all ends up stalling my hand. Moans begin filling the room as her body ripples and undulates over the bed. It’s all too heated, too bloody fascinating, and I end up slinging the pad and taking my glasses off for a better view.
It isn’t long before my hand is on my cock, gripping it tightly to ease the ache she’s creating yet again. I don’t even know what it is about her. She just gets to me, makes me wanton and needy. It’s not a sensation I like much, and nor is this unending desire that keeps swarming through me whenever she’s nearby. But it's also becoming something I can’t deny.
I watch on as her fingers delve and dive, one hand keeping her pussy wide so she can reach places she needs to get to.
“Beautiful,” I murmur, as I eventually see the shudder roll over her frame. She is. All of her. Even her naivety and innocence, the same innocence I’ve taken from her without any real discernible discussion on the matter.
The thought makes me stand and move closer, hands pulling her down the bed to me after she’s ridden out her orgasm. She groans and rolls, smearing yet more red wine and come all over my sheets.
“Look what you’ve caused, young lady,” I say, twisting her body around. Her head comes up by my thigh, her eyes sleepy and dazed from her self-serving session, as she rests her chin in my hand. “What was that you were saying about sucking cock?” Her eyes widen, mouth parted, and she looks at it in my hand. “Let’s try some more art forms, shall we?”
She blinks, moves slowly until she’s up on her knees, and then looks down at it again. My brow arches under the scrutiny, mind trying to work out if I should just fuck her mouth or let her lay me down for this. I’m doubting I’ll have much control, and she sure as hell doesn’t know anything about deep throating, but she’s got her lips over the end of it before I can make the decision for her, her hand on my arse to pull me closer.
My eyes close, mouth groans, and my hand covers the back of her head to tangle her hair into my fingers. I’m fucking lost when it comes to this woman.
And probably bloody insane.
