Page 93 of All the Right Things

I stretch. “Well, I guess since I have had my nap, we can have another marathon.”

“Oh, believe me, we will. But first, there’s something outside I want you to see.”

He takes my hand and leads me out to the deck while Beau follows close behind.

There I find an easel with a large canvas on it. In front of it is a chair, and next to it is a table with assorted paints and brushes.

“What’s this?” I ask.

“Well, you said you haven’t painted in a while. You said you weren’t able to find any motivation. I figured that maybe this beautiful landscape is as good of a place as any to see if the motivation comes back,” he says.

My eyes well up with tears. “I can’t believe you did this.”

He sees my reaction and starts to freak out. “Oh baby, I’m so sorry. I thought you’d like it.”

I look up at him. “I do like it. No, Iloveit. It’s perfect. I can’t believe you listened when I told you that. It was such a small conversation. I didn’t even make a big deal out of it.”

He chuckles. “Contrary to popular belief, some men do listen when their women talk.”

“It’s not that common,” I say. “You’re just amazing.” I lean up and kiss him.

“Well, go ahead. Sit down and do your thing.”

“What are you going to do?” I ask.

“I’m going to take Beau for a walk to give you some time to be by yourself. I’ll be back shortly.”

He kisses me once more before walking back into the cabin. I get comfortable on the seat and take a few minutes to just admire the beauty all around me.

I don’t know that anything I would paint could do this view any justice. It’s spectacular. But gorgeous views like this are meant to be painted and shared.

So without another questioning thought, I grab a brush and get started.

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A couple of hours later, I’m so lost in my painting that I barely hear Jonas come outside.

I’m startled when he says, “Looking good, baby.”

“You like it?” I say, looking back and forth between him and the painting.

“I was talking about you, but the painting is nice, too.” He laughs while wrapping his arms around me from behind. He takes his stubble from the slight beard he’s been growing and rubs it all over my neck.

I squeal and giggle uncontrollably because it tickles so bad.

When he finally starts to pull away, I yank him back down, pressing my mouth to his.

When we come up for air, he says, “I thought you wanted to paint.”

“Maybe I want to do something else more,” I whisper.

My fingers go to the front of his jeans and carefully undo the button and pull down the zipper. His cock is already half-hard and springs out as I pull his pants down just enough.

I go to put it in my mouth, but he stops me. “You want to do this out here?” He asks.

“You said it yourself. No one can see us. And even if they can, who cares? Let’s give them a good show.”

He lets out a guttural moan, “Damn baby, you’re a dirty girl, aren’t you?”

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