Page 79 of Up In Flames
“Tay?” he yells, making me smile at the sense of urgency, familiarity, and need in his voice.
“Guest room!” I call back, grabbing the light blue paint.
“What are you doing in the gu—” His voice grows louder as he approaches the room and then cuts to total silence as he turns the corner to find me standing on the canvas, cold paint dripping slowly down my bare chest.
“I wanted to paint, remember?” I answer.
I love messy sex. Is that a kink? If it isn’t, it should be. And if it is, I definitely have it. I like it wet, sweaty, and sloppy—the dirtier the better. So much of our short time together has been about pulling Knox out of his shell; now it’s time to show him a little of what’s underneath mine.
“I’ll admit,” he says, stepping into the room, his eyes heating as he watches me trail a hand across my chest, smearing the paint, “this isn’t what I thought you meant.”
His admission makes my smile widen because I know what he thought.Cute little gay boy wants to get out his brushes and paint the rainbow.
“Take your clothes off.” My cock twitches at my command, and Knox notices the movement.
Eyeing me, he begins pulling his shirt over his head. “Why do I get the feeling I’m about to see a side of you I haven’t seen yet?”
I give him a wicked smile, but stay silent. This is going to be another lesson in removing labels.
Yes, I bottom. Happily. I love being railed. But that’s notallI do orwhoI am. Sometimes I’m in the mood to do the railing. A lot of the time, I want to call the shots. I won’t be fucking Knox today because we aren’t there yet …but Iamgoing to flip the roles on him. Show him you don’t solely have to be the giver or receiver.
He unbuttons his pants and slides them down his powerful thighs along with his boxers.
My eyes trail over his naked form. Being toned and sexy as hell after forty is a thing to be commended. Beauty is a gift inour youth, but those who work to gain or maintain that level of fitness as they age possess character traits I admire.
Andfuck, am I admiring it now.
Knox tosses his pants through the doorway to protect them from the mess we’re about to make.
“Now what?” he asks, breathing hard.
“Now we paint.” I reach behind me for the rest of the tubes and hold them up, allowing him to choose the color he wants.
He shocks me when he grabs the yellow one. I thought for sure he’d go for the dark blue…maybe even the white.
My surprise must be evident on my face because he chuckles above me before leaning down and whispering, “Thought I’d pick something a little quieter?”
His breath coasting over my skin makes me shudder as I nod, admitting the truth. “You do tend to be more…subduedin your color palette. I figured you’d be more Brad Ford and less Deborah Sussman with this project.”
He makes a clucking noise before saying, “I don’t know who either of those people are, but you know, you really shouldn’t label others.”
I face him and roll my eyes, trying—and failing—to hide my smile.
“I just love that moment when the student becomes the teacher,” I say sarcastically.
Knox kisses me under my ear. “But what a good teacher you are. In fact, I think I’m ready for my next lesson.”
“Give me the paint,” I demand.
He does, and I pop the lid before flipping it upside down and squeezing it over his body as if it were sunscreen.
He shivers at the contact.
Once he’s coated in yellow, I add more light blue to myself, the paint already mixing on my hands. Knox’s paint gets caughtin his chest hair, and I can’t wait to see the pattern it makes on the canvas.
I open the navy-blue paint next and squeeze it all over the canvas at our feet.
“Lie down on your stomach,” I instruct.
