Chapter 55
Friday, March 22, 2013 – Day 154
The rainy Seattle afternoon enfolds me, but instead of gloom, it brings comfort. It's warm today, the branches of the trees unable to hold back their buds in the face of such nurturing, and I'm on my way home early to do a little nurturing of my own. I smile as my thoughts stray to Edward—home painting this afternoon, probably with the windows open to smell the rain and wearing those jeans that sit so gloriously low on his hips. Well, I'm hoping I'm going to bring something up anyway. Is that close enough to nurturing?
The last few weeks have been heaven, after a trying February. Edward's fledgling immune system had its first test about two weeks after Day 100 when he came down with a nasty cold. Naturally it scared the hell out of both of us, and we went straight to the ER, but Ang managed to calm us down. They took some blood and samples for culturing, but she said it was most likely a virus, so they loaded Edward up with antiviral meds and sent us home to weather the storm.
He was miserably sick for more than two weeks, but Alice came and checked on him every day before and after work, and we managed to keep him out of the hospital. His recovery was slow, and his cough still lingers even though it was almost a month ago, but his body was able to fight off the infection.
Since then, things have just been getting better and better. I'm working full days now, and Edward is spending a good bit of his time painting. Jasper still joins him for lunch, but it's more for companionship than help, and although Edward still has to rest for a while in the afternoon, he's able to stay awake in the evenings with me.
And we've been going on dates! Edward's not ready to brave the bars or the movie theater yet, but we've gone out to dinner several more times, including dates with Alice and Jasper, then come back to the apartment to watch a movie. It's not complete freedom, but he feels like a person with a life again.
He's also gotten quite a bit more … well, bold shall we say? The first time we made love, it was sensual and sweet, but since then? I fan myself as I remember the sound of our skin slapping, warm and slick, as he bent me over the kitchen table a mere two nights ago. His favorite thing is to attack while I'm making dinner. He lets me start most nights because he wants to finish whatever he's working on, but the minute he reaches his stopping point he's wrapped around me like a dog in heat, his cock grinding against me and his hot breath in my ear.
But today, I'm going to beat him at his own game. My slow afternoon turned to fantasies of riding my lover like the prize stallion he is, so I left early, and I'm going to march right into his studio and not take no for an answer. I have a funny feeling I'll get no disagreement from him, and if I do, well then … I have my wicked ways.
I chuckle to myself as I turn the key in the lock then drop my bag on the table. The living room is empty, just as I expected, and I call out, "I'm home," to give him a moment's notice and so I don't scare the fuck out of him. I learned my lesson once already about sneaking up on him when he has a brush in his hand. The painting ended up smudged, and I ended up with a blue nose.
"I'm in the studio," he calls back, and I feel a little funny as I walk down the hall—as if we've done this before. Déjà vu overwhelms me as I get to the doorway and see he's working on the New York skyline painting for the first time I've ever seen. Oh, my God, this is exactly like my dream!
I put my hand over my heart and stop breathing—it's so close to my first dream of him that it's eerie. His hair is shorter, and he's a little thinner, but that just makes his jeans sit even lower on his amazing hips. Those hips that slap against me when he's driving into me, and ohhh … that thrust up to meet me when I'm riding his hot, hard cock—
I fly across the room, sliding under his left arm as he steps backward, my fingernails scraping against his scalp as I assault his lips. He grunts, but his tongue is already seeking mine as I mold against his body, grinding my pulsing, aching clit against the growing bulge in his jeans. He groans deeply, but it turns into almost a chuckle. I pull back, confused, to see his sparkling, boyish grin.
"Whoa, Bella! Did you miss me?" he purrs, and again the déjà vu hits, his words stoking the blaze of my desire. My girl parts quiver and melt, drenched in my own juices and the low, husky rasp of Edward's voice. Jesus Christ, this is even hotter than my dream! I lean in to kiss him again, but he tilts his chin down and away, his sweet laugh sending my heart to join the other Bella goo on the floor.
"Hey, can I put down my palette and brush first? It's killing me not to be able to touch you when you're this … frisky."
I laugh, realizing that while I've been attacking him he's been standing with his hands full. "Frisky? Is that what I am?"
"Well, personally, I think 'horny as hell' is a better description, but I was trying to be diplomatic about it."
"Put down that brush so I can show you exactly how horny as hell I am," I challenge him, squeezing his bulge for the glorious moan it elicits as his eyes roll back in his head.
His fingers relax, and he nearly drops both palette and brush, but he catches them just in time. "Actually, I've got a better idea."
I raise my eyebrows, but now, he brings out the big guns, blushing a deep and delectable shade of red. His blushes turn me on almost as much as his moans do. I just want to kiss every inch of tender, flushed skin, licking and sucking and—
"Bella!"
I've stepped forward again, and my lips are attached to his collarbone, laving at a spot that's now even redder from my ministrations. Oops.
"Jesus! You really are ready to go!"
I nod and blush my own shade of crimson, stepping back and allowing him to put his brush and palette on his art table. "What did you have in mind?" I ask, keeping my eyes on the floor because I know if I look at him, I'm going to jump him again.
"Well, I was wondering if … I could … paint you."
I glance up, and his eyes are downcast now, but as he looks up at me through those glorious lashes, I know if he'd asked me if he could make love to me in a pile of shit I'd have said yes. There's just one problem. "Edward, you already have painted me."
"No, not like that," he says, coming to stand before me and taking my hand. "There's this project called Love and Paint that's run by a friend of Jasper's." He kisses a line from my thumb down to my wrist. "The idea is that love is a form of art that can be captured on canvas. With paint."
I'm sure my eyebrows are so high they're no longer attached to my forehead. "You mean we paint each other, and then we make love?"
"Uh huh," he says, looking at me bashfully. "Or we paint each other while we make love. And when we're done, we have a piece of art to hang on the wall."
"Wow." A vision of Edward naked and splattered with paint meanders sinfully through my head. Oh, my holy God.
"It was just an idea," he says, letting my hand go.
"About the fucking hottest idea I've ever heard," I answer, picking up his hand again and trailing kisses from his palm to the scar on his wrist.
His eyes widen, and he draws in a rapid breath. "Really?"
Does he truly have no idea that the mere thought of him naked and painting is enough to make me jump him, or else need a shower really badly if I can't have him? Really? "Hell, yes! Is it safe? For you, I mean."
He blushes, huffing out a breath. There are still quite a few things we need to be careful about. "Yes, the paint is non-toxic, hypoallergenic, and they use a sterile process when they package it, considering the places it's likely to … end up." Now his blush is fierce, and I'm wondering if he's thinking about exactly where on or in me he'd like paint to end up.
I chuckle. "Yeah, I'd imagine their paint ends up in some interesting places."
"Oh, I can think of a few," he says, his eyes suddenly burning with lust.
"How long have you been planning this?" That look says there are some fully fleshed-out fantasies already in his mind, involving lots of flesh and not much else.
"Um … a while," he admits, incinerating me with those searing green eyes. "I wanted to do this for Valentine's Day—"
"—but you were so sick," I finish for him.
"Yeah."
"Well, what's stopping you now?" I ask, smirking at him as I caress the front of his jeans leisurely.
He scrunches his eyes shut and hisses, but I know it has nothing to do with pain. "Ahnggh, nothing. Let me go get what we need," he answers, a little out of breath. I chuckle as he hurries from the room. This is gonna be amazing.
When he returns he's all business for a few minutes, laying out a white sheet that looks like a drop cloth, but thicker, and four medium-size cans of paint: blue, green, yellow, and red. Then he stands and goes to his art table, stroking his chin as he scrutinizes his paint can full of brushes. His eyes swing back to me and rake over me, bright green laser beams of heat that slice through my blouse, hardening my nipples instantly. He smirks as he selects a few brushes, his long fingers hovering over the bristles as I imagine what it'll feel like when he's stroking them over my—his deep laugh rings out, and I realize I'm clenching my thighs. I need his clothes off. Now.
"Are you ready?" he asks, seductive and sweet and oh so sexy.
I step forward and pull him to me so we're standing on the canvas, and the brushes fall from his hands as he grasps my cheeks, crushing his lips to mine, hot and wet and demanding entry. I open to him, cocking my head so I can reach deeper, swallowing his moan of pleasure as he grinds against my thigh.
My fingers slide beneath his t-shirt, his abs tensing as I tickle and tease. I can feel the muscle definition there; Edward's started some light exercise recently and it seems to already be toning him. He must have been truly glorious before his illness, and he's headed back that way fast. I continue upward, and he gasps as I circle his nipples with my index fingers, the little nubs hardening deliciously as his cock twitches against my leg. I want to suck on those nipples. Now.
I step back and tug on his shirt, and before he's managed to slip his arms out, I'm already pulling his nipple into my mouth, sucking hard as my hand slides down to cup and squeeze him.
"F-f-fuck-k-k," he breathes, no longer touching me, and I press my advantage, undoing his jeans while I lap at his nipple. In seconds, my hands are filled with hard velvet heat, and he pants as I cup his balls and stroke up his length. But I want more. With practiced ease, I slide his jeans and boxers down, and while he's distracted by those, I hook an ankle behind his knee then clasp his hands, lowering him to the floor.
He chuckles, but in an instant, I have his jeans and boxers off, and the sound turns to a deep, erotic groan as I go all the way down on him, pressing his tip to the back of my throat. "Gaa-ohhh." His head lolls to the side as I hollow my cheeks, sucking all the way to the tip before plunging down again.
"J-J-Jesus, Bella, you're going to have … me off … in two minutes … if you keep … that up," he pants, his hands coming to rest on my shoulders.
I love the feel of his cock on my tongue and how wild he can be while I'm pleasuring him, but he's right. We have new toys today, and we should play with them. When I reach his tip, I lave my tongue around it. I'm rewarded with a deep shiver and exhaled moan that set my clit to pulsing, but I release him gently, looking up to meet his blazing eyes.
"You're right, and I wouldn't want you coming before we play with our new toys." I crawl over his leg and sit beside him, and his look is such a combination of wonder and lust that it's almost comical.
Almost.
But he's lying naked beside me, his cock standing at attention and his smooth, soft skin calling to me, begging me to worship him. I pick up the nearest paintbrush and stroke my thumb over the soft bristles. "What kind of brush is this?"
"That's—" he swallows thickly, his eyes never leaving me, "—a mop brush."
"It looks kind of like a makeup brush. What do you use it for?"
"Well," he says, sitting up with a twinkle in his eye, "I use it to fill in large areas of color. It's very absorbent, and very soft." He takes the brush from me and holds it expertly, painting an imaginary stroke on my collarbone. I roll my head back, and Edward's lips are on my neck, sending shivers down my spine and heating my chest and belly. "You're wearing too many clothes."
He unbuttons my blouse as he lays a line of hot, wet kisses from my jaw down to my bra, and I can't help but moan. "Ohhh, Edward."
I can feel his smile against my skin as he pulls my blouse off my shoulders and makes short work of my bra while he's back there. As I'm sliding my arms out of the straps, I gasp as Edward trails the paintbrush between my breasts, heat and sensation erupting on my chest. I can't let him do this. Not yet. I'll lose my mind if I let him—oh, God—stroke that brush over me just as he does with a canvas. I want it, but I want to try my hand at this first.
Grasping his hand that's holding the brush, I press it to his chest. "I want you to do that, badly, but I want to do it to you first. Please?"
A wicked, glorious grin spreads across his face, and he blushes deeply, causing my belly to twinge in anticipation. Oh, the things I want to do to this man.
"Okay, but whatever you're going to do, it has to be naked. You're still wearing too many clothes," he says, glaring at my khakis.
"Deal," I answer, standing and letting my pants and panties drop to the floor.
Edward's eyes widen appreciatively, but I intercept his hand before he can turn the tables again. "Lie down on the canvas, please."
He smirks at me but complies, and I kneel beside him. I hold the brush poised over his belly and he tenses, his eyes boring into me and pulling me to look at him. "No, close your eyes."
The room has gone suddenly silent, and I can hear the unevenness of Edward's breathing. The heat of his gaze melts me, but the part that really does me in is the trust I see there. He's trusted me with his secrets, his heart, his very life—he trusts me without thought or question. He closes his eyes, and my own breathing is uneven, and I choke back my emotion to focus on the task at hand—giving him as much pleasure as I can.
I move away from his abs, because he's expecting it, and stroke the brush lightly down his arm, from shoulder to wrist. He shivers, but he stays fairly still, so I decide to test his resolve. I bring the tip of the brush down on his peaked nipple and swirl gently. He gasps, convulsing inward, and his eyes fly open as he flops back on the canvas. "Now, Edward, you have to stay still," I admonish him.
"While you're doing that?"
"Yes," I answer, eyeing the easel behind him. "And I think I know how to help you." I pick up a longer, slightly thinner brush with a pointed tip, and Edward cocks his head at me curiously.
"Move back just a bit." He does as I ask, but his brow is furrowed as I hand him the paintbrush. "Now, raise your arms over your head, slide the brush behind the leg of your easel, and grip the other end with your other hand."
He gasps, his mouth falling open in astonishment, but he moves quickly.
"Now, don't let go of the brush," I tell him, smirking. "It's not quite bondage, but it'll do in a pinch."
He blushes, the color roaring up his chest to kiss his cheeks. "Do you like that?"
"What?"
"Bondage."
"Well, I've never really done it before, but if you're asking if I want to tie you up and do dirty things to you, the answer is yes."
"Oh, fuck me," he mutters as he closes his eyes, and his cock gives a mighty twitch.
"We'll get to that," I answer, giggling, and I'm nearly knocked over backward as his lips crash into mine. I plunge my fingers into his hair, but I know this is going to get out of control, for both of us, if I don't stop it fast, so I push gently on his chest until he comes up for air. "Come on, sweetheart, let me make you feel good."
His grin is spectacular, his kisses chaste and sweet. "I am the luckiest man alive."
Warmth explodes in my chest, but now's not the time for being sentimental. I want to be dirty. "Not yet, but I'll make you the luckiest man alive if you'll just lie still!"
His chuckle is deep and sexy, and he lies back and grips the paintbrush the way I told him, his glorious body stretched out before me. "Close your eyes."
The lust in his gaze scorches me, but he complies, his muscles tensed in anticipation. I am in ultimate control. And I'm going to make him feel amazing.
The room is silent—all I can hear is the harshness of Edward's breath, waiting for me to pleasure him. A wave of euphoria crashes through me, and suddenly, all I want to do is mount him and ride until we're both screaming in ecstasy, but … I have the chance to be in control. To do whatever I like and to squeeze every drop of pleasure out of this experience that I can, for both of us. I can wait.
I poise the brush over his stomach then trace a line up the center of his chest. He gasps, but he stays in place, so I begin to circle his nipple, stroking in wide arcs and slowly tightening them. Edward's breath is coming in pants, and all the muscles on that side of his body are tense. I reach the center and he moans out a breath, making his cock twitch and my clit pulse at the same time. I want to hear that sound again, so I lift the brush and go straight for the kill on his other nipple, meanwhile leaning down to take the closer one into my mouth.
"Aahhh!" Edward grunts as the paintbrush snaps against the leg of the easel, but he doesn't let go. I swirl my tongue around his nipple while painting the other with invisible strokes, and Edward writhes underneath me, his breathing ragged. Jesus Christ, what's he going to do when I do this to his cock?
And suddenly, I really need to find out, so I begin moving downward, my lips and the brush painting lines down opposite sides of his chest as he whimpers above me, knowing exactly where I'm headed. My cheek bumps into his oozing tip, and I begin to slide the bristles of my brush up his shaft. Edward arcs up off the canvas with a deep groan, the sound of wood on wood ringing out again as the brush he's holding collides with the easel.
"Oh fuck, Bella. I can't … Doitagain."
I giggle then slowly run the brush up the side of his cock, grinning as he squirms and undulates, his body angling toward the brush. I reach down and massage his balls as I do it again, and his guttural moan sends a shiver careening through me. I need to make him come. Now.
Continuing to fondle and squeeze him, I start running the brush up and down his length, from all angles, circling around and around as I watch his excitement build. He starts out slowly, rolling his hips and panting, but as I increase my pressure and speed, he begins to thrust upward to meet the downstroke of the brush. His pants turn to whimpers and moans, and I can hear the change in the sound as he bites down on his lip, pain to ground him and make the pleasure last just a little longer.
So I watch as he gets closer and closer, his urgency making me clench and flex, my own heat building. But I think I can give him just a little more. I pull the brush away and push his hips back down to the floor, then flick the brush against that oh-so-sensitive spot right under the head of his cock, and he cries out in ecstasy. I use my other hand to stroke his length, and within seconds he's thrusting wildly into my hand.
"Bella … so good … I'm gonna come … I'm gonna come—" His words are cut short as he cries out sharply, and I hear another snap and a loud crunch. Edward voices his pleasure with loud grunts as he explodes, painting his chest with streaks of pearl. He twitches with the aftershocks of his passion, trying to catch his breath as I smirk in triumph.
"Shit. I really … liked that paintbrush," he says, bringing his hands down, half a brush in each one.
I bark out a laugh. "I'll buy you another one."
He chuckles as I wipe his chest and belly with a tissue, then he pulls me down to him, tucking me against his side. "Don't worry about it. Best use I've ever had for the thing! Goddamn, Bella, that was … Fuck, that was amazing! I'm still seeing stars!"
I giggle again and nuzzle against his still-heaving chest, feeling the warmth and … life radiating from him. He's perfect and he's whole, with only a little bit of healing left to do.
"I want to do that to you. So much. Just give me a minute." His eyes are closed and there's a blissful smile on his face, and happiness surges through me like a tidal wave. This is what it's all about. These are the moments that make life worth living. I hope I have a million more, and Edward shares in every single one.
We lay in contented silence until Edward's breathing is slow and even, and I start to wonder if he's fallen asleep. Then his fingers begin to make slow circles on my thigh. I shiver, but it feels so good that I can't pull away. "It's my turn now," he purrs into my ear, and goosebumps slide deliciously down my right leg. Oh, yes, definitely his turn.
He rolls toward me and kisses me soundly, then sits up and gathers the brushes scattered around us. He shuffles through them, and an evil grin spreads across his face as he selects one that reminds me of a fan.
"What's that one for?"
"This," he says, holding it aloft, "is a fan brush. It's used for blending and for fine details. Do you remember all those evergreens in the meadow painting?"
I nod.
He inclines his head. "This brush."
Swallowing thickly, I stare at it in wonder. How the hell can he create such amazing things?
"But, right now, I have a new use in mind for it," he says, winking at me. "Your turn to hold down the easel, Miss Swan."
He hands me a brush similar to the one he broke, and I quickly lie back and get myself into position. I'm breathing faster, my heart thumping like a jackrabbit in my chest as I watch him hover over me. He flashes that kid-on-Christmas grin of his and gets on his knees beside me. Is he gonna make me—
"Close your eyes, Bella. I'm going to make you feel so good."
Holy shit, I already feel good! My heart feels like it's going to jump right out of my chest, and every inch of my skin is sizzling with electricity, just waiting for the spark of the brush to ignite the blaze.
His brilliant green eyes pierce me, seas of love and lust and teenage-boyish excitement. I giggle then plunge myself into darkness, my other senses heightened by the loss. At first, all I can hear is the sound of my breathing, but once I steady myself, I can hear his too. It's soft and ragged and seems to be coming closer—I jump and snap the brush in my hands against the easel as Edward's brush skims up the underside of my arm, ticklish at first but warm and tingly after.
He continues across my hands and down the other side, the bristles never leaving my skin, trailing fire in their wake. Now he slides onto my chest, and I shiver as he feathers across my collarbone, his strokes soft and reverent, as if I am the canvas and he's the master painter. Holy fuck, he is the master painter. I think as the brush swirls below the swell of my breast, and the image of his face as he paints, his complete and utter concentration, springs to mind. My belly twinges hard, and heat erupts deep in my center. Oh, God, I'm his work of art.
I gasp as the brush teases my already peaked nipple, and his breath wafts over the skin just below it. "Do you like that?"
"Yes. More." The brush glides over my skin, circling and teasing, hardening my nipples and stealing my breath as Edward explores and creates me, his brush infusing crackling sensation into every millimeter of skin it touches. My breath speeds with the tempo of his strokes, and soon, I'm panting and aching for him, my thighs clenched as I writhe, my heaving, arousal-soaked body his masterpiece.
"Edward. Please!" He chuckles—a deep, husky sound—but he's breathing hard too. I peek an eye open and inhale sharply at the beauty poised over me. He's rock hard again, his left hand driving me to ecstasy while his right teases his arousal with languid strokes. Holy. Fucking. Shit.
Searing heat erupts in my belly, and my only thought is to let go of the damn paintbrush and throw myself at him, but suddenly, I'm hanging on to it for dear life as soft bristles caress my slit from bottom to top. "Oh, God!"
I squeeze the brush and feel it bow in my fingers as he focuses in on my clitoris, but this brush is smaller, tighter. "Aannghh!" I don't care, as long as he keeps flicking and circling and—oh, the tingling is building and—so tight— "Edw—aaahh!" I shudder and shake as my orgasm rips through me, obliterating everything but the waves and waves of pleasure.
My head bounces gently off the floor as I come down, releasing one hand from the brush. I pant, too blissed out to open my eyes, but as I quiet, I hear Edward's uneven breathing beside me. I open my eyes and midnight green is all I see—dark and smoky and burning with lust.
I'm on fire again, and I fill my hands with Edward as I thrust my tongue into his mouth, nipping and sucking and squeezing and cupping, consumed by the need to pleasure and be pleasured. He grips my arms and his hands are … wet? My eyes fly open. His hands are covered with red and yellow and he's spreading it over my arms and down onto my hips, and it's the most erotic thing I've ever felt. I plunge my hands into the blue and green then into his hair, needing to claim him, to mark him as my own.
We touch and taste, and the paint spreads, covering us.
Red, my breasts that he squeezes and my ass that he grips as he plunders my mouth with scorching kisses.
Blue, his chest where my hands knead his pecs and circle his nipples, pulling moans from him as he grinds his arousal against me.
Yellow, my thighs, the muscles rippling as I hike my leg over his hip and he slides into me, pulling him home.
Green, his hips where I hold on so tightly as he plunges into me, thrusting hard.
Purple, where our chests meet as we writhe against each other, smooth and slick.
Brown, where our bodies join and slide together, the colors mixing so there's no ending and no beginning.
My hand slides upward to grip his hair, and he rolls me onto my back, brilliant green eclipsing all the other colors as he devours me with his eyes. I'm lost there, both of us panting in time with the pleasure of each thrust, until the riot of color draws my eye.
His arms, blue and brown, the muscles flexing as he thrusts into me. His chest, glistening with sweat and purple and blue, heaving with passion and effort. His hips, slapping against mine, the colors merging and changing with each new stroke. Holy fuck is this hot! And suddenly, I can feel the heat building deep in my belly, my own breath coming fast and hard.
I reach up and bring his face down to mine, painting streaks of green and blue where my fingers stroke and slide. I thrust my tongue into his mouth, wanting to get closer, and he whimpers, his rhythm faltering.
Oh, my God, I'm going to explode! is my only thought as I clench around him, and I can feel every delicious inch of him as he drives into me. He moans long and low at the change, making me clench even tighter, and he pulls away from my lips. Eyes closed, brow furrowed, his uneven pants turn to moans of pleasure, and I know he can't hold back much longer.
My finger finds my clit, and Edward gasps as my walls clamp down on him, squeezing and milking. "Oh, Jesus, Bella. Fuck. Fuck!" His words morph into an almighty groan, and he rolls his hips against me, giving me all he has as I shatter around him.
Eventually, the white noise in my ears gives way to the sound of Edward's uneven breathing and the warm weight of him pressed against my belly and chest. I open my eyes to find sated, awestruck, adoring green staring back at me.
"Wow."
He rolls us onto our sides, and I hike my thigh over his leg, pressing my foot to the back of his knee as my hands find purchase on his chest and my lips tell him "wow" in return. The hand that's not trapped under me squeezes my ribs, pulling me tighter and closer as I give him everything I have left, telling him with my kisses the things that words just aren't enough to say.
His kisses become soft and sweet, and he pulls back slowly with a few pecks and rests his head on his arm, bent at the elbow, and stares at me thoughtfully with those amazing eyes of his.
I mirror his pose, and my face feels as if it's going to split from the smirk I can't contain. "Do you think we made a good painting?" I ask as I reach out and stroke his paint-covered cheek.
"Well, it certainly felt like a work of art," he answers, grinning.
We both chuckle, and we lie there for a while, just touching and stroking, until I realize he's becoming aroused again.
I sit up slowly then haul myself off the canvas, staring down at it as Edward gets up and stands beside me. There's a riot of color before me, but I can make out our silhouette as he thrust into me on our sides, and a bit of my red footprint from when I put my leg over his thigh. There are fragments of handprints where we both fisted the sheet, and a swath of reds and yellows where my hair fanned out as he drove into me, bringing us both to ecstasy.
"It's fantastic," he says, curling an arm around me. "I certainly know what I'm going to think of every time I look at it."
I giggle and blush to the roots of my hair, but I doubt he can tell for all the red paint that covers me. "Me too. But, right now, I have another job to do," I tell him as I sheath his cock with my hand, the mix of blue and red on my fingers creating a deep purple as I stroke.
He inhales sharply and leans into me, his eyes closing and his head falling back to expose his delicious multi-colored neck. Oh, yes, we're definitely ready for round two.
"Now, I get to un-paint you."
A/N: Love and Paint is an actual thing. Google it and their website is the first thing that comes up. I'll be interested to hear if anyone does this. *smirk* Pictures of Bella and Edward's toys and their masterpiece this morning in Shadow Fics, and Come Back Tomorrow's final teaser will post there on Thursday. There are only two more chapters, and I'm not teasing the final one. Chapter 56 will post on Monday. Have a great week, all!
Music for Chapter 56: Reason Why by Ron Pope. The link can be found in the Come Back Tomorrow playlist on YouTube and in Shadow Fics.
