Page 125 of Charlie

I grab some silver paint, painting two lines on either side of his spine, planning to smear the rest over his backside, but he snatches the tube from me, squeezes it into his palm, and spreads it over my other breast. He tries to pull me to him, but I dance away, snatching a magenta tube, and squirting the bulk of the contents into my hand. Jack catches me by the wrists, scrapes his hand over mine, and smears the paint over my torso. He jerks me against his body, adjusting his cock to nestle between my legs. I push up on the tiptoes to give him better access, and he pulls my legs around him, his hands supporting my weight. I grind my hips against him, moaning as his cock slides over me.

"Goddamnit, Charlotte," he groans, flexing his hips.

"There’s not enough paint yet," I say breathlessly, using his shoulders to pull myself up along his shaft and then sliding back down slowly, the friction on my clit almost doing me in. Jack balances me with one arm, leans down to grab several tubes of paint in his hand, twists the caps off with his teeth, and squeezes them over the canvas without looking.

"Good?" he asks

"Good enough." I move my hips until his cock is nudging my entrance, his jaw tensing as he barely holds himself back. He drops to his knees on the canvas, his arms supporting my back as he lowers me to the floor. The paint is cold against my skin, drawing my nipples into sharp points. His hands slip against me as he cradles my face, nipping at my bottom lip and pulling me into a searing kiss.

Our moans echo around the room as he moves down my body, kissing and licking me where my bare skin is still showing. I protest when he slides his hands under my hips, lifting me, but my words become unintelligible when he fits his mouth between my legs, licking me in long strokes. I try to tell him I want his cock, not his mouth, but I can't get the words to come out. He pulls away when he feels me tense, sits back on his heels, and stares down at me, his chest heaving.

"I don’t think I can take much more, Charlotte," he rasps, sliding his clean hand over his cock. "Are you ready?"

"I’ve been ready since the first day I met you."

He leans over me, elbows on either side of my head, our breaths mingling as he positions his cock between my legs. He flexes his hips, pushing so that he’s sliding along my inner labia, dragging the length of his cock over my clit. I buck against him, begging him to fuck me.

"Open your eyes, Charlotte."

69

"Open your eyes, Charlotte," Jack says, his deep brogue skittering over my skin. I open my eyes, the scorching heat in his gaze burning me alive.

"There you are," he breathes. Every muscle in his body tenses as he flexes his hips, pushing the head of his cock against me, nudging at my entrance. My back bows off the canvas, my body strung so tight that I can barely breathe. He bears down and slides into me completely, a garbled moan tearing from my throat as he bottoms out, filling me completely.

"You're so fucking tight," he chokes out, holding still, giving me time to adjust. He pulls out and slams back in, pushing me higher on the canvas with every thrust. I scramble for purchase, quickly giving up and pushing against his shoulders until he's sitting on his haunches. He ignores my pleas to be lifted and widens his knees, fingers digging into my hips as he slides me forward, impaling me on his shaft. His gaze shifts from where we're joined to my breasts, bouncing with each hard thrust.

"Turn over," he says roughly, "I want to know your tits were all over this canvas every time I look at it." I slip in the paint as I attempt to push myself up, so he grabs me by the waist, flipping me over like I barely weigh anything. "Fuck, Charlotte," he groans, kneading the globes of my ass cheeks, spreading me wide. I can feel the heat of his gaze on my pussy as he slowly brings me to him, the head of his cock pushing past my lips before sliding home. He stretches his body over mine, trapping my wrists above my head, driving into me with strong, sure strokes.

"You were fucking made for me," he growls, his breaths labored against my ear. I whimper as he slows his pace to a torturous crawl, the head of his cock hitting my g-spot with every thrust. He pulls out suddenly, stands up and reaches down for me, hauling me up against his chest. I grip his waist with my thighs, position his cock against me and take him deep. His breath stutters, and he looks up at the ceiling, swallowing hard.

"I have to get this paint off so I can fuck you properly," he growls, walking us out of the room and down the hallway.

"Won't someone see us?" I ask, swiveling my head.

"There's no one here tonight except us," Jack says. "Cam is staying at Lach's tonight."

The image of them fucking enters my head immediately, my pussy convulsing around Jack's cock.

"You're thinking about them fucking, aren't you?" Jack asks, setting me on a windowsill without regard for the paint covering my body. His fingers dig into my hips as he rams into me, our gazes locked between my legs. "Does thinking about them turn you on?" He palms my breast, rolling my nipple between his fingers.

"I can't help it," I groan, "There's this picture that forms in my mind..." I clench around him and Jack curses, sinking into me again.

"What turns you on?" I ask him, readjusting my grip on his shoulders as he picks me up, continuing down the hallway.

"All of us coming together, coming at the same time," he says without pause, his eyes dark.

"All three holes?" I ask, an image quickly forming in my head.

"No," he says gruffly. He doesn't elaborate.

"Then how?"

Jack moans in my ear as he shoulders open a door. "I don't know if I can tell you while I'm in you," he grinds out, his jaw clenching.

"Tell me when we get where we're going then," I say, trying to look behind me as Jack shoulders through a door and sets me down carefully, his cock sliding along my clit as he pulls out. He clamps his arm around my waist when my knees threaten to give out, chuckling into my hair. Once I'm steady, he flips on a light, and I gasp as the room comes into focus.

"Is this your bathroom?" I breathe, my eyes wide, not sure where to look first. It's as if we're in the middle of the jungle, standing in a room carved from boulders. Two sinks are carved out of a granite slab along one wall, plants filling the gap between matching mirrors. After that, the room splits off, flagstone pathways taking you to what I can only assume would be the toilet and shower.

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