“Lie down on your back on the paper,” he said. He whipped his shirt off as she followed his instructions, and then removed his shoes and socks. A moment later, he came down on his hands and knees over her, the paints, brushes and cuffs in hand. He dragged the pillow beneath her head. “Stretch your arms over your head. Straighten them as best you can,” he murmured.
He cuffed her wrists together, and then pocketed the key in his jeans with a satisfied smile. As always, the sight of the black leather cuffs next to her smooth skin, the knowledge that she would be helpless in the face of desire, sent a jolt of excitement through him.
“You’re a sick, sick man, Everett Hughes,” Joy said with wry amusement.
“And you love me for it.”
“True,” she conceded.
He grinned and opened the package of blue paint. He dipped the paintbrush into the thick liquid, stirring it, before he withdrew it and set the container next to Joy’s hip.
“Let’s see. Where to begin,” he mused, studying his breathtaking human canvas. “Spread your legs so I can make an informed decision.”
She did so slowly. She had trimmed her pubic hair very short. His pulse quickened at the sight of her pink, feminine folds. Unable to resist the lure, he lowered his head between her thighs and inhaled her subtle, sweet perfume. His cock responded to the smell of her sex instantly, swelling and lurching against the fabric of his jeans.
“So lovely,” he murmured, kissing her once on her labia and evoking a small whimper from her throat before he crawled higher over her. “I may not have artistic talent,” he said, “but I have the instinct of a lover. And it’s telling me to start on Joy’s sensitive ribs.”
She jumped slightly when he touched the wet brush between two ribs and painted a stripe as far around her as he could go. He used the blue paint for the skin between her ribs and the peach-colored paint for the bones themselves. By the time he’d finished covering her ribs, he noticed that goose bumps had risen on her skin and that her nipples looked like hard, red berries.
“Cold?” he asked, gazing at his work appreciatively.
“No,” she said in a strained voice. His gaze leapt to her face. Her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes had taken on the glassy sheen of arousal he so prized. He held her stare as he leaned down and tongued off a blue stripe slowly.
“Hmmm. Not bad. Blueberry.” And then, a moment later, “Peaches and blueberries taste awesome together.” He felt her shiver beneath his tongue as he licked along her tender sides. It never ceased to amaze—and arouse—him how sensitive she was there.
&n
bsp; “I’m so glad you’re enjoying it,” she said breathlessly. She moaned and wiggled when his tongue dragged just below the lower curve of her left breast.
“You’d like it, I think. Want a taste?” he asked, lifting his head minutes later.
The sight of her lips parting made a stab of arousal go through him.
“Okay,” she said, seeming a little dazed.
He grabbed the dark pink paint along with a fresh brush. He straddled her, his knees at either side of her chest, and dipped the brush into the liquid.
“Keep your lips parted. Just like that,” he said as he began to trace her lips with the pink paint. The color looked vivid and a bit lewd on Joy’s sweet, lush mouth. It excited him. His cock grew so stiff that his jeans were increasingly becoming too confining. He set aside the paint and brush and hastily unbuttoned his fly. He reached down his pant leg, grimacing as he drew his erection over the waistband. The fabric of his boxer-briefs and jeans bunched around his balls. His cock fell heavily, but his clothing propped it up so that it stuck out of his fly at a downward angle.
He glanced up when Joy moaned. She was staring at his penis avidly, the tip of her tongue slicking along her graphically pink lower lip.
“Uh-uh,” he chastised lightly. “No dessert before supper.”
He gently lifted her head and used the tip of his penis to trace her smile. His cockhead now thoroughly covered with the pink paint, he thrust it between her lips into the warm, wet cavern of her mouth. A shudder of pleasure went through him as she eagerly sucked away the paint.
“Ah, that’s good,” he muttered tensely, thrusting into her mouth several times. He felt a tingle deep within his balls. “A little too good, in fact,” he muttered regretfully, pulling his cock out of her mouth and setting her head back on the floor. She looked up at him, her eyes glazed with desire, and licked off the remaining sugar from her lips. His cock bobbed in the air.
“I might have to spank you for that later,” he told her.
She grinned like the Cheshire cat.
He chuckled and scooted backward.
“Hmmm, let’s see. What flavors for the prettiest breasts in existence? Peaches and cream, I think.”
He went to work, using the largest brush available to him to coat the curves of her breasts in the peach paint, carefully painting around the crests, leaving the nipples naked. He paused after he’d picked up a smaller brush and the white paint. “It seems a shame to cover your nipples,” he said. “They’re a work of art all on their own. Guess I’ll just have to lick it off immediately,” he said with a decisive shrug.
He dipped the brush into the creamy liquid. He painted one nipple, and then the other, and then set aside the paint and brush. Joy’s breathing was becoming heavy. He came down over her on his hands and knees, elbows bent, and inserted just the tip of her breast between his lips. He listened to her moan softly as he first licked the sweet, cream-flavored, pebbled flesh and then sucked it greedily. She called his name sharply when he took a gentle bite of the sensitive flesh.