Turning to close the door, I gasp in surprise, to see Sam at the door his palm up to keep me from closing it. “Sam?”
“Aren’t you forgetting something, Zoe? I was promised a kiss once we got here and I talked to Taylor. I’m here, I talked to Taylor and we’ve agreed to a six month trial. Now it’s time for you to pay up.”
My brain goes fuzzy with him so close, his hands are on my hips and he’s backing me up towards the bed. All I hear is six month trial. “A six month trial?”
“I told you, baby, I don’t need the money and I’m not looking for anything permanent. If after six months it’s still going well then I stay, if not then I go.” He barely presses me and I’m down on the bed. “A kiss, you promised, given freely.”
I can only nod, finally admitting I’ve thought of nothing else but this moment since I woke up this morning. His soft lips are at my temple but his hands are at my waist. Closing my eyes I offer my mouth to him but for a long moment there is nothing. Then his hands shift me and unzip my skirt and pull it down. So caught up in the feeling of his hands sliding down my body I don’t even think of telling him no. His hands slide back up and catch in the top of my panties and with a squeeze of my ass pulls them off much faster than my skirt.
“A kiss for the prettiest lips I’ve ever seen. Using my tongue on the sweetest pussy I’ve ever tasted.” A whimper escapes me as his fingers edge in and then out again to play in the soft hair. My hands move into his hair and I’m sure I’m going to stop him but my fingers won’t obey and my voice catches in my throat.
Velvet, hot and wet slides over the seam of lips slick with need, at that first stroke my hips come up begging for more. But his hands tighten and hold me in place for him. Whispered words of praise for my scent and the taste of me flows up to me and he was right he could talk much dirtier than he had and it made me wetter to hear the shockingly graphic words. I open wider, needing more from him and he gives it. Thick fingers open me for him and his tongue delves deeply, greedy and hungry one moment then gentle and teasing the next. It isn’t enough and then so much more than I’ve ever felt it’s almost painful but I want more. Sam is demanding his name from me and I gasp it again and again and he rewards me with the feeling of two thick fingers slipping inside my slick channel.
“Fuck, how the hell are you so tight? My dick is a hell of a lot thicker than two fingers and your pussy clings to them. You like that baby? So wet, you taste so damn good. We’ll have to go real slow when the time comes, but I promise I’ll make it good for you.” His mouth is back on me, sucking deeply and moaning about how good I taste. My hips meet his fingers as they work in and out of me, I’m so close, and he knows it. His tongue flicks across my clitoris and I cry out, begging for my climax but he holds me back, his tongue tasting me deeper where his fingers move in and out of me. If I hadn’t been so needful of my orgasm I would have been ashamed at the slurping sounds he made but I have no shame of my need for him and what he does to me.
“Please, Sam, please.” My fingers tug in his hair but he refuses to be led. He moves his fingers out of my channel and finds a spot that has me coming off the bed as he jacks his fingers in and out over it. A few strokes, faster and faster and then his mouth moves over and sucks my throbbing clitoris into his hot mouth. He sucks hard while his tongue flicks over the tight flesh again and again. I come in a gush far stronger than anything I have ever felt before. It’s so strong it’s scary and I scream his name, as the world fades away.
When the world comes back into focus, I’m surprised to find I’m alone, and my door is closed. Rolling over onto my side I’m not sure if I’m happy or sad he’s gone. He’d done what he set out to do and proven I want him and I can’t tell him no. He had accepted the job and I know it’s because of me. If he had gone home, it would be over, he wouldn’t have pressed for the kiss. I know it deep down, he wouldn’t have started something if he had no intention of seeing it through.
So if I let go of the fear Sam keeps reassuring me isn’t necessary about hurting him, then I could enjoy some extremely hot and good sex for awhile. But all I can think about is he’s gone now and that he’d only agreed to six months. At his house he’d said he wanted me but not a relationship and it could take a few months to get a need as strong as he had for me out of his system. Was that his offer, six months and then he’d walk away? I should be happy, jumping for joy but laying on my bed alone and still trembling from what he had done to me, where I want him most, him inside me, I feel empty. Is it my turn now to be the one who got hurt at the end?
Chapter Six
Once I’m able to move, I get up and change into my painting clothes. As I’d lain in bed the picture had formed in my mind and I want it out. All my painting clothes are old and worn and it wouldn’t matter if I get paint or turpentine on them. Undressing, I look but can’t find my panties and can only shrug. I had worn them for Sam so I’m not bothered that he has taken them. At home I prefer to go braless and without panties so I don’t bother with putting on another pair of panties and I take off my bra. To compensate for going without a bra, I put on an old mans sleeveless undershirt and an even older button down pale blue mans dress shirt and then a loose pair of jean shorts that I had made from too long jeans bought from a second hand
store. They are a little shorter than I would have liked. When I first cut them I hadn’t picked the right scissors and the ends had been extremely uneven and ragged and I had to do it again. To clean the ends up I had to go shorter, I figure since I only wear then inside to paint it’s not that big of a deal.
I pull my long hair into a messy bun as I go to the backroom that I had taken over as my studio. It had also been added on, but this wasn’t done quite as well as the extra bedroom. As perhaps the person adding it on had intended it to be a work room, there is one lone vent from the air conditioning and there was almost no installation. It could get really hot and uncomfortable in the heat of the summer.
I clean my palette thankful the paint is almost gone. I pick my paints and line them up and then one by one apply them to the palette, making sure to leave enough room between each one for blending. Sometimes when I paint, I have a picture for reference. Sometimes I went to the scene and painted there but often I paint from the memory of something that had stuck in my head, adding to the dreamy quality of many of my paintings, that and I have a huge love of the Impressionists.
Once I get going I’m lost in the painting and it isn’t surprising that Sam came in and wandered around for a few minutes before I’m aware he’s there. It isn’t until he’s almost at my back that I feel him and my eyes come off the canvas. He’s silent, just staring and my stomach starts to tighten. Would he be mad? I hadn’t known until I felt the need to paint that the scene began taking shape in my mind.
“You’re good, it’s exactly how I felt after not seeing it for so long and it’s how it felt to be there.”
The scene is Sam’s home and the buildings around it, it’s rare for my lines to be so perfectly straight, but there was nothing soft and dreamy about the feeling of Sam’s home. A sigh escapes me, I had captured the desolate, empty feeling I felt upon pulling into the long drive and taking everything in. “Thanks.”
“Zoe, what ever happens, thank you for talking me out of there.” Sam’s face is tight and the words are sincere.
My eyes meet his, “You’re welcome.” I don’t know what to say beyond that. There are a few touches I want to add and I turn back to the painting and continue. As he wanders around the room I notice the paintings he stops at and studies.
“So why exactly are there so many paintings done and just sitting here if you’re so good? Why aren’t you doing more with this? I thought when you met Taylor you were pushing your paintings?” His hands on his hips draw my eyes to his waist and the loose faded black tee shirt and jeans he wore. Like me, he’s barefoot and after a deep breath I focus back on the painting.
“Well, I was going to put them up on a website but the specialty pictures needed would cost more than I have in savings and I had thought I would need. I bought a website but have no technical skills and no idea what I’m doing.
When I came to that realization a few months ago I got into contact with a gallery in Fredericksburg but one weekend he’s too busy, the next I am and one weekend Gertrude was acting spastic so I got scared to take the drive out there.
Also there is nothing worse for an artist than contentment, apparently, because when I was at my last job and hated it, I was out on the weekend and selling them like a pimp. Now that I’m working in a job I like and enjoy, I don’t know, it just hasn’t seemed like a big deal. Not everyone gets to do what they want to do, sometimes you’re the responsible adult and you do what pays the bills. Now that it’s not such hard work to get through the day I’ve been content to paint when I can.
There’s a coffee shop that let’s me put paintings up and they’ll go pretty quickly there which is nice but they do rotations and I’m only up once a year or so. None of the small galleries here in Austin want anything to do with me. You reminded me though, I’ll call that gallery owner again.”
A buzzer rings from inside the house and Sam walks toward me, “Dinner’s ready, go get cleaned up and please change. You look so fucking cute in that I’ve wanted to bend you over that table and fuck you since I walked in here.” A rough kiss on my open mouth and he’s gone.
I look at the work table I keep my paints and brushes in and know it would hold up to what he wanted. My face is hot at the thought of him, and my fingers are clumsy as I store what I had finished using. I don’t see him when I go back inside to change and clean up but I can smell something good cooking. A quick shower and I hope I no longer smell of turpentine. Dressing, I slip into a long black peasant skirt and long loose black tee shirt. The smallest devil inside me has me leaving both panties and a bra off again. It’s how I usually lounge around the house when I get home, after all. Pulling my hair out of the bun with a sigh I allow it to hang free.
Walking into the kitchen, I’m in time to see him placing a plate on the table for me. There is a small salad waiting with a few different bottles of dressing, I pick a balsamic vinegar I like and I know the leaves are from a bagged salad mix but he had added some fresh tomatoes, cucumbers and black olives and it doesn’t taste bagged.
“I can’t believe you did all this? Stuffed shells, they are so creamy and this sauce is good. Breakfast and now dinner, I could get used to this. Thank you. If I remember dinner it’s usually a frozen dinner or something from work, this is much better.”