by Madison Faye
“I heard,” I smile quickly. “And congrats to your mom.”
“Thanks.”
The two of them turn back to their projects, and I sit, fuming as I snatch up my phone to text Ethan. Why am I texting him? Why do I even have a student’s personal cell number like this?
Oh, right, because I’m screwing him and having the time of my goddamn life doing it.
Suspended? Really?
I type angrily.
He replies instantly.
Yeah, really.
For fighting??
Apparently, they don’t like that at Winchester.
You think?
There’s nothing for a minute before the text bubbles reappear, and he sends a reply.
What are you doing right now?
I glance around the classroom, feeling scandalous that I’m texting him like this, here.
Studio hour.
I want to show you something…
My pulse quickness, and I swallow as I blush.
I’m at SCHOOL, Ethan. Before you send me a dick pic.
Instantly, my phone buzzes with a call, and my face goes hot as his number pops up. I snatch the phone up, whirling and stepping through the doorway into my main and now empty classroom before answering.
He’s laughing when I do.
“So was that a request?”
My face burns.
“That was not a request,” I hiss.
“You sure? It sounds like you want a picture.”
“I really, really don’t.”
There’s a long pause, and I can almost hear that grin on his face.
“You sure about that,” he purrs lowly, making my pulse skip. I grin, biting my lip.
“Not while I’m at school,” I say quietly, glancing back into the studio.
“But maybe after, huh?”
My thighs squeeze shut, and my pulse quickens as I think about his cock.
“Maybe later you’d want to do more than see my cock.”
“Maybe,” I breathe.
“Come over,” Ethan growls.
“Where?”
“My house.”
I blink, balking slightly.
“Ethan, I’m not coming over to your parents’ house.”
“Why not?”
“Jesus, you know why not.”
This time I know I can hear him grinning that cocky grin.
“Come around the back way. There’s an access road at the back end of the estate where you can park and look for the gate in the hedge back there. I’ll meet you.”
“Are you serious?”
“Yes.”
I blink, swallowing thickly as I glance at the time and then back into the studio room. My eyes land on Ramona, and I blush.
“What about the rest of the people who live in your—”
“Just trust me, okay? You going to be there after classes get out?”
I let the idea simmer in my head, which of course leads to all sorts of filthy thoughts that have me blushing.
“Okay, fine,” I whisper quickly.
“Good,” he growls. “See you soon, beautiful.”
He hangs up, leaving me shivering with forbidden excitement.
* * *
What the hell am I doing?
I step out of my parked car on the old access road, closing the door behind me. I look up at the huge old hedge covering the ancient wrought-iron fencing of the Weiss Estate, and a thin whistle comes out of my lips.
Yeah, holy shit. There’s money, then there’s “fuck-you” money, and then there’s “our family was rich before America was even a country” rich. The Weisses are that last one, and this house is just proof of it. It’s really more of a castle, if we’re splitting hairs here, and it sits on something like fifty acres of pristinely manicured lawns, hedges, rose gardens, duck ponds, and woods.
Thankfully, the access road is at the very back of the property, far from the main house. Because the idea of a member of the school board poking her head out the window and seeing me sneaking into her yard with her eighteen year old son sounds like a fucking nightmare. But that’s exactly what I’m doing—stealing into a boy’s house like I’m still in freaking high school. Though, I never actually did this in high school.
I walk along the hedge, until finally, I see the wrought iron gate. And when I step up to it, I startle as I realize Ethan is standing just on the other side of it.
“A fight? Seriously?” I mutter as he swings the gate wide, and he arches his brow like he’s amused at my sourness
“Look I was fighting because some douchebag was talking shit about you.”
“About me?”
My face pales, and Ethan quickly shakes his head.
“Not about that,” he grins. “Not you and me. Just dumb jock bullshit about ‘getting’ you.”
I blush.
“They talked shit. I mean what was I supposed to do?”
My brow furrows.
“Let them? I mean who cares?”
“I care,” he growls fiercely, making me shiver as those piercing blue eyes burn into me.
“I care a lot. And no one is talking shit about you.”
I bite my lip, and part of me wants to throw my arms around him and kiss him for being my knight in shining armor. But the other part of me is aware of how badly that could have turned out.
“How does that look, Ethan? You throwing fists to defend my honor?”
He scowls. “Jesus, Emily, I don’t fucking care how it looks.”
He moves into me quickly, and before I know it, I’m gasping as he tugs me against him, wraps his arms around me, and kisses me fiercely. I moan into his mouth, sinking into him before reason slaps me in the face. I pull away, panting, my eyes searching his.
“And if someone saw this? You and me like this?”
“I’m eighteen.”
“And I’m twenty-six!”
“So?”
“And your teacher?”
He shrugs. “So, I’ll quit art class.”
I glare at him. “The hell you will. You’re too good. Also, it wouldn’t make a difference.”
He grins at me, nodding his head.
“C’mere,” he beckons.
“What?”
“I want to show you something.”
“I—I’m not sure sneaking into your house is a good idea, Ethan. What if your mother is home? Or Ramona?”
He shakes his head. “We’re not going into the main house. C’mon.”
He takes my hand and pulls me down a path, and stupidly, I willingly follow. We walk through a gorgeous old rose garden full of ancient stone statues, and through more hedges, walking along gravel paths, and then paving stones, until suddenly we find ourselves emerging from some hedges in front of what looks like an old garage or carriage house.
“In here.”
Ethan pulls me through the side door and flips a switch, and instantly, my jaw drops as my eyes go wide.
“Oh my God…”
The big open garage space has been turned into what looks to be mostly a working art studio, with a small section set aside for his motorcycle and a workbench full of tools and greasy bike parts. Up above in a loft space under strings of garden lights is a huge wood-framed bed and an open door to a white-tiled bathroom. But the majority of the space is all art. Huge canvases, finished or half-finished, adorn the walls, with an easel to one side, paint all over the floor, and shelves and shelves of spray-cans, oil paints, watercolors, and more.
“Holy shit, Ethan.”
I turn to him, my mouth still hanging open as he grins.
“Wait these are all you?”
He nods. “Yeah. When I moved here fresh out of Lenox Hill, I spotted this place away from the house and just sort of set up shop here. My dad wanted me in the house with the rest of the family, but Celia took my side. Convinced him it’d be a good spot for me to ‘get creative’ in.”
I smile. “Nice going, Celia.”
“She’s pretty co
ol, actually.”
I turn, my eyes scanning over the myriad of paintings around the room. A lot are his go-to medium of spray paint in fluid, aggressive style. But there’s also traditional looking still-life oil paintings, some charcoal sketches, and even watercolor landscapes.
“Ethan, these are freaking amazing.”
“Thanks.”
“No, I mean it. These are really, really good.”
He shrugs, glancing at a few of them. I set my jaw, taking his hands and pulling him around to face me.
“I’m not being nice. This is seriously impressive.”
He grins a little wider. “Thanks. I don’t show these to anyone, not even really Jamison.”
“You should. People should see these.”
He shrugs. “Eh.”
“I’m serious!”
He grins down at me, pulling me close before he leans down and kisses me softly on the lips.
“Thanks. Really.”
“Look,” I say quietly. “No more suspensions, okay? Just…” I shake my head. “I get it, okay? I get that Winchester is…”
“Full of assholes?”
I giggle. “Yes.”
“Rich, snobby assholes.”
“Hey, it’s also got good people too, though. And you can go anywhere from this school. You just have to—”
“Please don’t say the words ‘apply yourself’.”
I grin, flipping him off as he chuckles.
“How about ‘stay out of trouble’, and I’ll help you get into the best art school I can get you into. Because the world needs talent like this.”
He says nothing, and when I look back up at him, I shiver at the intense way he’s looking at me.
“What?”
“Why do you want to help me so much?”
“Because.”
I blush and he groans as he pulls me close.
“Because what?”
“Because maybe I kinda like you, Ethan Scott,” I say quietly, glancing back up into his eyes. And when I do, my heart jumps as I lose myself in his gaze.
“I kinda like you too, Emily Hayes,” he growls, pulling me into him. Our lips crush together, and I moan into his mouth as his hands slide over me. I gasp, grinding against him, and when I feel him start to tug at the hem of my skirt, I whimper as I kiss him harder.
“Hang on,” he growls quietly, pulling away and eying me heatedly.
“What?”
He grins.
“I want to paint you.”
I blush.
“Oh, do you? Let me guess, ‘artistic nude’?”
“You can call it whatever the fuck you want, but you’re damn well gonna be nude.”
I blush, shivering as his eyes burn into me.
“Take your clothes off, Ms. Hayes.”
12
Ethan
Somehow, I manage to keep my hands off of her as we head up to the loft where I keep my bed. Well, that’s not entirely true. I put my hands on her plenty, especially when I’m a total gentleman and help her peel her clothes off. But I do resist claiming her right there, at least for now. Because I need to paint her. She’s too gorgeous, and too incredible for me not to.
I growl as I set up the easel and sit behind it. I’m setting up my paints and brushes, but I’m mostly watching Emily stretch out naked on my bed.
My cock throbs, but I clear my throat as I concentrate on the task at hand. My eyes linger on her, and my brushes slowly paint the page, almost without me even looking at them. The light coming in through the window above the bed just fucking glows on her skin, her curves perfect, her eyes wild, and her lips parted just so as I capture it all on the canvas.
And she’s a great model. She lies still, on her stomach but half turned to me, giving me a view of her perfect tits and just a little teasing glimpse of her pussy. My eyes wander over her bare legs and the soft curve of her ass, and my balls swell as I paint it all across the canvas.
“You’re a good model,” I say, trying to distract myself from the need to just pounce on her and sink my cock deep into her from behind.
“Flatterer.”
I chuckle. “No, I mean you’re good at posing. You don’t move around.”
“Not my first rodeo.”
I arch a brow. “Oh?”
“Yeah, I did a ton of nude modeling in art school for figure drawing classes. I mean it payed fifty bucks a session.”
My jaw clenches, my brow furrowing, but I say nothing as I continue to push paint across the canvas. I’m not clueless enough to think Emily hasn’t had any sort of history being eight years older than me. I truly don’t give a shit about whatever is in her past—I mean, I’ve been no angel. But the idea of a bunch of art assholes gawking at her nude in the middle of a class gets my blood burning like—
“They were all-girls art classes, just so you know,” she adds, winking at me and then giggling. “It was all over your face, Ethan.”
“None of my business,” I grin.
“Well now it is. And I’ll have you know, I’m usually a bit of a prude, thank you very much.”
I grin, eyeing her. “Oh really.”
“Yep.”
“Aside from fucking strangers in alleys, you mean.”
Her face goes crimson and she rakes her teeth over her bottom lip.
“Aside from that,” she whispers.
I keep painting, losing the brushes in favor of my fingers as I push the paint around. I smudge, and streak, and blend, and work it over and over until slowly, there she is. There’s Emily, nude and gorgeous and perfectly captured in light and shadow on the canvas.
I sit back, nodding quietly to myself.
It’s perfect.
“Wait, are you done?”
I glance over at her and nod. “Yeah.”
“Well, let me see!”
She springs from the bed, stretching for a minute after having laid there for so long. My eyes slide over her, a low growl catching in my throat and my cock pulsing as I take her in. She scampers over to the easel, coming around to my side of it, and her breath catches.
“Holy shit, Ethan.”
Her voice is quiet, her hand at her lips and her eyes wide.
“It’s…”
She shakes her head, her cheeks glowing.
“It’s gorgeous.”
“Good subject matter,” I purr.
She grins, turning to me.
“No, that’s all you. I mean you made me look like a centerfold model.”
“Well, that’s because you are, Ms. Hayes,” I growl, turning towards her on my stool. “You’re my centerfold model.”
“Here’s to you, Mrs. Robinson,” she quips, and I roll my eyes.
“We can agree that twenty-six isn’t ‘old’, right?”
“How about when I’m thirty-six?”
“I’ll be twenty-eight. Who cares.”
She blushes. “That’s a long time from now,” she says quietly. “And trust me, you will not want to stick around me for that—”
“Yeah,” I growl, standing, my eyes burning into hers. “Yeah, I will.”
She blushes, her lip catching in her teeth. “And when I’m forty-six?”
“Thirty-eight.”
“Fifty-six?”
“Forty-eight.
“Sixty-six? Seventy-six?”
I shake my head. “You know exactly where I’ll be.”
She swallows. “Eighty-six?”
I frown. “Well, no, by eighty-six, I’ll definitely be looking for someone younger. Some hot young seventy-eight-year-old maybe.”
She giggles, throwing her arms around me and snuggling close against my chest.
“I lo—”
She stiffens, her mouth snapping shut.
“Sorry, that was… I don’t know where—”
“I love you too.”
Her head snaps up, her eyes blazing into mine as the words I’ve never said to anyone leave my lips.
“Ethan, you don’t—”
&nbs
p; “Yeah, I do.” I growl. “I love you, Emily. And I’m not going anywhere, no matter how old you get.”
“I—” she swallows. “Ethan, people will—”
“Screw them. I love you, and I honestly don’t care who knows it.”
“Well, the school administration might care a whole lot.”
I grin. “Well, after graduation then. I’ll shout it out the second I walk across that stage.”
She looks up at me, beaming, this glow on her face as her eyes meet mine.
“I love you, Ethan.”
I lean down, and when our lips crush together, I lose it completely. My hands slide over her hips, and when she gasps and jumps at my touch, I pull away and suddenly laugh.
Shit.
My very, very paint covered hands slide wetly over her skin, leaving smudges across her hips.
“Fuck, sorry, I’ll get—”
Her hand swipes at the paint, and before I can say another word, she’s smeared it over my cheek. My jaw drops, and she grins mischievously as we freeze like that for one second.
Oh, and then it’s on.
She shrieks as I pounce on her, lifting her up and tossing her down across my bed. My shirt and jeans are off in a second, and when I kick my boxers away and my thick cock springs free, Emily eyes it hungrily before I jump onto the bed after her. My hands slide over her skin, smearing paint over her body as she shrieks and giggles. Her hands do the same, leaving hand-shaped paint marks over my chest and my arms.
I palm one of her breasts, painting it with my hand as she giggles and reaches around to slap my ass, leaving a big blue and white handprint on it. But then our lips come crashing together, and I’m lost.
Her legs spread around my hips, and our kiss never even breaks as I roll my hips and ease my cock at her center. Her dripping wet, eager little pussy welcomes my swollen head inside, and she moans deeply into my mouth, whimpering as I drive my big cock home. Her paint-streaked legs wrap around my hips, her hands holding my face as I ease out and thrust deeply back in. Our bodies slide wetly together with paint, my sheets a fucking mess, but I don’t care.
I don’t give a shit about anything about her, right here, right now with me.
