Page 66 of Grin and Bear It

“They say people spend about 2.5 seconds looking at artworks in museums,” I told her in a low rasp, leaning over her. “I like to spend a little longer looking at something beautiful.”

“Cole—” She looked flustered and embarrassed, but I just grinned.

“Hands stay here, unless you want things to stop. Can you do that for me, beautiful?”

I saw the rebellious fire in her eyes and wanted to stoke it higher. So fucking much. My mate was fucking gorgeous, but there was something else, something radiant about her when those eyes were sparking. But she was a good girl and kept her hands where I put them, then watched me move.

“I wanted to be a painter, an artist, not a house painter.” I pulled out my brush, a soft sable one that I tested with my fingers. “My dads nixed that idea, said there was no money in it.”

“Cole—”

I pressed the handle of the brush to her lips.

“Don’t be sad. Thereisn’tany fucking money in it, but…” I let my eyes trail over her body, seeing how sweetly rounded her arms were, then the generous swells of her breasts. My brush moved then, the bristles stroking across her neck, down into her collarbone, then across the top of one breast. “The reason why I wanted to paint was this.” I looked up then, letting my brush trace the line of her bra, that obstacle between me and heaven. “I wanted to capture beauty, force it into something that would last lifetimes, trapped on the canvas. I’d paint you.”

“Cole—”

“I’d paint you, Ellie,” I insisted. “I’d sit there in front of a fucking easel with fancy brushes in my hands, caressing the form of the woman I tried to capture on the canvas, and I’d be sitting there as hard as a fucking rock, as I stared at you.” I held her eyes with mine, feeling like I could stare at her forever. “Undo your bra.”

“You told me not to move my hands,” she said with a sharp smile.

“Little brat…” I hissed. “Move them now, just this once. Take your bra off and show me how beautiful you are.”

She did as she was told, which surprised me. I felt like I’d have another fight on my hands, was gearing up for one, but when she slipped the offending garment off, my cock felt like it was trying to punch its way through the zipper. In some ways this was why I was touching her with my brush, trying to keep some sort of distance.

I had to admit, I was a fan of tits. They always seemed to be so elementally female, the way they were soft where we were hard. But as I watched my mate lie back down on her bed, it felt like there was so much more to them. They were swollen, her nipples pulled tight into little beads that screamed for my tongue, and sensitive, if the hiss she made as my brush slid lower was anything to go by. Fuck, I wanted to grab her, dig my fingers in and leave red marks behind, a reminder that I had been there. I wanted to mark her, claim her. My fangs were fucking aching, the bear snarling inside my head, but instead I traced the beautiful swell of her breast with my brush.

She hissed at the softness of it, her eyes falling closed. It kept me from doing something stupid, rushing her, so instead I swept the fibres around the circle of her areola, watching her back arch into the caress, wanting more.

Yeah, feel that, I thought.Feel how fucking good it will be between us. Feel what I’m doing so that you want more.And as if on cue, her face scrunched up a little, a little moan escaping her lips.Want everything I’ve got to give.There was something desperate and mean in that, but that was OK, that was where I was at. Iwasfucking desperate and mean. Everything could be perfect, if she just let me in.

But not just yet. I stopped tormenting one breast, moving to the other, as Ellie let out a little sigh of pleasure and frustration.

I could smellher need as I worked her jeans down her legs, baring my mate for the first time, but I couldn’t stop to savour that. Her underwear came next. I wanted to tear those fucking things off for daring to hide what was mine away, but I didn’t, instead tossing them to the floor. Her thighs widened on reflex, revealing a wet, pink little secret that only me and my sleuth would share, and that’s when I went still.

Fuck, she looked delicious.

My tongue flicked over my bottom lip, ready to be put to work, instead it was the brush I trailed lower, not my mouth, tracing the swell of her stomach, then plunging down, forcing my hand to create small circles along her inner thighs to stop myself from diving in.

“Cole…”

Her slick folds were my palette and I dipped my brush in, smoothing the bristles up and around her clit.

“Cole…” Her breath hitched.

I slid the bristles slowly over that swollen nub, watching the way the bristles separated and then flicked over it with rapt fascination. Her cunt seemed to drip in anticipation, the pink skin growing shiny with her slick. All the more for me to paint her pleasure with.

“Cole…!”

I grinned then, feeling my fangs flash in the cool air, more bear than man right now. I was on the hunt, but there was no slinking through bushes or trotting downwind of our prey. We were luring her in, one moment at a time, and her eyes flicked open then, searching mine.

“Cole, I need…”

She doubted me then, a small little blossom of disappointment souring her scent, making clear how badly all her previous partners had let her down. I would never. She was mine. Mine to love, mine to care for and look after, mine to fuck hard, bending her double as I thrust my dick hard in and, while she didn’t know it yet, all her fucking problems were mine too. I would fix everything, I swore that, but right now I needed to fix this.

“I know what you need.”

Our eyes locked and I watched her search my face, unsure whether I was full of shit or not. But she’d find out. I’d prove it to her. I picked up the brush then ran the bristles along my tongue, collecting the taste of her before smiling.

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