Page 22 of Note to Self
“Shit!” He shudders and bows up off the bed as I tug his nipple with my teeth. My cock has gone from getting interested to ‘let me loose and inside him’.
As I lick gently over the tender skin, Trent smiles. I look up, past him, over his shoulder. On the wall, he’s tacked sketches, incredible pencil drawings, some of Willow. A couple have Merrick in them too, but it’s the ones of me that stun me. I didn’t even know he could draw, and the fact that he’s drawn me from memory has me floored. “That’s me.”
Trent stiffens and stills below me. I tear my eyes away from the drawings and look down at him. His eyes are squeezed tight shut. The lips that were making me feel so good are now pressed tight, just two thin lines. “Hey, Trent, it’s okay. They’re incredible.”
He shuffles from under me to stand up, turns to the wall, and takes the pictures off the wall.
“Trent, stop. Please, sweetheart. Let me see them.” I reach for his hand and gently take the quality paper from his grip. I glance down at the first one. It’s Willow twirling around in a circle. The movement of her pretty summer dress shows, even though it’s with a simple pencil. The next one is of me. I’m standing with my arms crossed casually over my chest, a cocky half smile lifting one side of my mouth. Do I do that, or is he adapting what he’s seen of me? We’ve only spent days together, but he has got me down to a T.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbles, taking them out of my hands. I want to keep looking, but he’s obviously uncomfortable with me seeing them.
“What? Why are you sorry? These are amazing. You’re incredibly talented. Does Merrick know? I bet he’ll want to show them.” Why is he so nervous about telling his brother-in-law?
“Um.” A blush spreads from his neck up over his jaw to his cheeks. “I don’t think he’d be interested in the work I do. These are just sketches, a warm-up to what I really love to draw.”
What is he talking about? What can he possibly draw that makes him go bright red? An idea bursts like an exploding light bulb shattering. Nudes, he draws nudes. And that thought has me itching to see more. To see his real work.
Trent has moved away from me and is tucking the drawings into a large artist’s travel case. “Maybe you could show me some of them. You know, I’m more than happy to pose for you.” He swivels his head quickly to face me, his mouth open. “I was happy to be naked with you a few minutes ago. If you’re going to see all I have, why not draw it too? I think it’s sexy as hell.”
Trent stares at me, his eyes wide and glassy, laden with tears, but none spill. What have I done or said to make him feel like this? “Look, I’m sorry if I’ve said the wrong thing or overstepped my mark. But, Trent, sweetheart, these are bloody good.”
He walks to me, his smile tentative, but as I hold out my hand, he takes it. His smile could light up all of Calston Cove. I pull him against me and wrap my arms around his waist.
“Thank you,” he whispers. “Nobody has ever said that. Mainly because I rarely showed them, not properly, that is. My parents wouldn’t let me pursue my dreams, not once they’d got their minds set on science for me.”
I frown. His parents really are arseholes to him. But he said his brother was an architect, so he would have drawn houses, buildings, anything. So why didn’t they let Trent do the same, even if it were different subjects? I won’t ask. I don’twant to dredge up bad memories. We’ve had enough of them for today. “Now, where were we before I rudely interrupted us?” I dip my head to capture his lips.
The kiss is slow. The heat and desperation of earlier have gone. It’s not going to go any further tonight, but I’m happy with that. We can take our time getting to know each other. Maybe he’ll draw me again. Only this time not from memory.
When we pull apart, Trent is smiling at me. “What?” I ask.
“Thank you.” He draws in a deep breath. “You’re being so kind to me.”
“Trent, sweetheart, you don’t need to thank me. You can show me your other drawings. I want to see the ones you don’t think Merrick will show.”
He blushes but nods, then peels himself from my arms. “You’re not in these. Most of them are from photos on Tumblr or X.”
As he’s collecting his drawings, I settle on his bed with my back against the headboard and my legs stretched out in front of me. The only place Trent can sit is next to me.
The images are something else. I don’t know much about art critiquing, but these are incredible. Some are so intricate and explicate; others are muted, leaving my imagination to fill in the shaded areas. The last handful have been painted, using water colours over the faint pencil marks. They look delicate, even with the object so obviously masculine. There’s a gentleness to the strokes, softening the eroticism but still keeping the eye captivated.
Trent is quiet the whole time, his eyes on me, not the pages, and his lip caught between his teeth as he worries the tender skin. When I put the last one down, my hand resting over the final image, I look at him.
“Christ, Trent.”
“Is that a good Christ or a bad one?”
“It’s an ‘oh my god, why aren’t you doing this professionally’ kind of Christ. These are beautiful. You’re incredibly bloody talented. You have to show these to Merrick. He’ll go mad for them.”
He shakes his head. “I don’t think I can do that yet. These are not good enough to show him. I’ve just been messing around, getting used to drawing again. You may not see them, but I’ve made a lot of mistakes.”
He’s right. I can’t see anything wrong with them. I’d happily hang any of these on my wall. But after years of being told not to do something or that he’s wasting his time because he’s no good, I can understand his reticence.
“Okay, but how about you do one for me? Right now, I’ll do any pose you want me to. I’ll even strip for you.” I give him a wink.
He turns a delicious pink, then does something I wasn’t expecting—he kisses me. And not a chaste kiss either. His lips are firm, pressing and parting to tease mine open. As he licks into my mouth, he straddles me, his arse at the top of my thighs, which means that when he flexes his hips, his erection rubs over the fly of my jeans. I groan as my dick goes from soft to granite hard in seconds and is now painfully trapped in my briefs.
“I want to taste you.” He grunts into my mouth as he rocks into me again. The thought of his plump lips wrapped around my dick has me fumbling with the button and zip. Trent pushes my hands away and shimmies down my legs until his mouth is hovering over my half-undone jeans. He makes quick work of getting my jeans and underwear halfway down my legs.
