by Landra Graf
“Yes.” You, a painting of you. The subject drew interest as much as the artistic style, but she’d never accept herself as inspirational. “I want to display it in the show but need your permission, a signature on a model release, to do so.”
“Sure, I’ll do it if you do me a favor.” The grin she turned on him looked downright conspiratorial, like they were about to engage in something naughty.
Lord, he was on fire with the way she looked at him. He tugged on his shorts, trying to make room for his burgeoning erection.
“What?”
The grin went away and she looked at him straight-faced. “Tell me what the hell is going on with you.”
He gulped...not voluntarily, it just happened. She put him on the spot and wanted the truth, which would most likely scare her away. Yet, she’d said she was a friend. So... “I’m in the middle of a manic episode.”
“Okay, I’m a little familiar with those. What does it do to you?”
“It keeps me awake, makes me a little charged, angry, hyper, and I can barely sleep. Plus, I tend to talk a lot or think too much about things.” He paused for a moment, trying to not be too excited to say the next bit, but he couldn’t help it. “I’m also extremely aroused.”
Wide-eyed, Aggie asked, “Right now?”
Murph could only give a single nod in response.
“Does it help if you relieve it?”
“I’ve never really done it to take care of the problem, so I’m not sure.” His breath went shallow, and his dick throbbed in his shorts at the mere idea of releasing himself on Aggie. It’d been a while since he’d done anything sexual.
“Then let me help you figure it out.”
#
Part of her knew she should’ve been a little more demure or at least hard to get, stronger. Instead, here she sat throwing herself at Murphy, again. To be honest, she’d decided to do it yesterday, or at least play at seducing him. They could both take out a little of their frustrations with sex and the fact remained he made her happy, safe. Feelings she’d been missing since Jordan’s betrayal.
Sure, sleeping with her landlord might be a bad idea, but they’d confirmed their friendship before he became her landlord. At this point, she’d passed sane thinking, and she’d justify any excuse entering her mind. She’d found herself wanting him nearly a week ago and since then, the urge only intensified, evidenced by the damp heat between her legs.
Her heart pounded. The air around her thickened, making it difficult to focus on anything but his erection. The desire remained to recapture the taste, the sensations, and the thrill of their first kiss.
Murph stayed silent to her suggestion, so she chose action. After standing up from her spot on the recliner, she moved to the bed. She touched him first since he’d become a statue perched on the edge of the mattress. So still and breathing so slowly, she thought he might be afraid.
“Are you okay?”
“I could hurt you.”
“How?” Such an idea seemed impossible to her since he’d stopped everything the other night. “You’re the one always trying to protect and help me.”
“I’m trying to keep myself in control, but I don’t know if I can.”
She smiled, somehow preventing the laugh wanting to escape. “You won’t hurt me, and I’m fine if you get a little rough.”
Normally, she’d never say such a thing, but Murph buoyed her need to take risks. He took them all the time—not locking his doors, painting, even putting his artwork in a show. She could be risky, too. Leaning in, she touched her lips to his, sticking her tongue out in a tentative approach. That was all it took.
In a millisecond, his arms were around her, pulling her tightly against him. She melted into the embrace, relishing how everything between them was as incendiary as the first time they’d kissed.
She dragged her hands across those muscles, letting them roam freely as he deepened the kisses. They were seductive, drugging kisses and they infused her with desire. He wanted her now as she existed. So, she’d let him have her.
His hands cupped her breasts, massaging them through her shirt before trailing a path underneath the rayon top to her bra. Those expert fingers of his unlocked the clasps in no time, and then rough, calloused painter’s palms brushed her sensitive nipples. She moaned, and he responded by thrusting his tongue into her mouth. He mimicked what his dick would do to her later, like a piston in and out, before pulling away so he could whisper in her ear. “Take your top off.”
Aggie was good at following directions. The top and bra came off, and she tossed them across the room. He shucked his as well, and she gasped at the tattoo she found there: a painter’s brush with ink droplets spilling from it. Instinctively, she leaned forward to touch him, and he hissed at her hand on his bare skin. “What does it mean?”
“That my body, my future, is an open canvas, free for the painting and taking.” He refused to let her continue touching him. No, he lowered her onto the bed and covered her body with his, moving lower to suck a nipple into his mouth. She arched at the contact, the heat sending a wave of arousal coursing through her, stronger than anything else she’d experienced. Her pussy ached, already wet. Sliding a hand between their bodies, she stroked herself, hating the barrier of fabric separating her from relief.
Murph stopped her from continuing, giving her a naughty grin as he stilled her hand, flicked open the top button of her slacks, and began to slide them off her. A slow, sensual torture as he traced the edges of her panties before removing those, too. In minutes, she lay naked and exposed to him.
Normally, she’d be trying to climb under the covers or shield herself from view, but all she cared about at the moment was his body. “Not fair. You’re still wearing clothes.”
“If I strip completely then I’ll be too tempted to end this fast.” An index finger trailed between her labia and touched her clit, Murph’s breath warm against her belly button.
She jumped. “This is torture.”
“Then let me help.” His tongue replaced his finger, flicking with precision before dipping lower and entering her.
The man possessed expert knowledge on how to use this part of his anatomy. The things he was doing to her, she’d never experienced, from the way he nibbled on her outer lips, to the twisting tongue that found the exact spot to get her arms thrashing against the bed.
Part of her wanted to bask in the sensations forever, how her body was on fire with the ceiling fan’s cool air giving a chill. How something tightly coiled inside her like a spring pulled down, ready to burst at the slightest push over the edge. In minutes, she cried out for release, panting like some wild animal. She needed it, wanted to come so damn badly.
When he inserted a finger into her, a final plea froze on her lips. Her legs tightened, and for a moment, her vision blurred. Body bucking against the force of the orgasm, she screamed Murphy’s name.
“Amazing, simply amazing.” She fell limp against the bed, but Murph moved her so she received the cushioning and support from several pillows.
“We’re not done yet.” He smiled and reached into his nightstand, pulling out a condom.
“I don’t think I can handle anymore.” In reality, she’d never come more than once during sex, and anxious energy about letting Murph down coursed through her.
“What makes you think that?”
“Let’s just say I’ve never been able to peak twice.” She watched greedily as he removed his shorts, revealing his dick. Fully erect and jutting out with a little pre-cum on the tip, the urge to suck him overcame her, to put him in a vulnerable situation similar to her own. “Can I taste you?”
“Maybe next time. I have to be inside you.” A first time for everything since she’d never known a man to turn down a blowjob, at least not Jordan. Her ex preferred her mouth versus her body.
“Really?”
He rolled the condom on and positioned himself at her entrance. “I’ve imagined this for too long to stop now, even for something as s
weet as your mouth around me. But only if you still want me.”
His eyes, she saw the emotion there, the respect, radiating back at her. If she uttered a no, he’d honor her wishes. The idea sounded as foreign as refusing a blowjob, but then this man proved to be far more caring and giving than any she’d met.
“I want you.” The word always almost slipped into her sentence, but she censored one of her crazy thoughts.
After brushing a strand of hair from her face, he thrust forward, and she pushed in the opposite direction to meet him, loving how he slid home without issue. They were joined in a perfect way. Soon, he started to move, slowly, and then picked up to a steady pace. A coiling pleasure rose within her, starting deep in her core.
“Faster.” The word came out as a demand rather than a question. If he increased the speed, they’d make it, possibly together, a goal for her since she’d never finished at the same time as her previous boyfriends. Somehow, the idea gave her thoughts of being inadequate. Yet, here she lay chasing a second orgasm. One she’d not thought possible.
He moved, altering his position within her by lifting one of her legs over his shoulder. The tension in her muscles mingled with the pleasure, shutting out any small pains the action caused. Their eyes met and she found herself locked on his gaze, both breathing in sync.
Too soon, he cried out, and blood pounded in her ears as she went over the edge, too. The connection they’d shared moments before broken. It was perfect and safe...and like she’d planned, without commitment. So, why did her heart ache at the idea she’d given too much of herself away?
Chapter Nine
It had been three weeks since Aggie moved in. Two since they’d kissed and only a couple days ago since he’d first made her scream his name. Murph still rode the manic. Sure, the sex made it less intense, but he couldn’t get enough of her. He’d even shaved so he wouldn’t rough up her skin whenever he went down on her, which for the time being, happened every day. She never stayed the night. Nope, it’d be sex, maybe a little talking, and then away she’d run.
Over the course of the days, in between amazing bouts of intercourse, he almost laughed at the word, she’d mentioned a food schedule, a healthy meal list, and even volunteered to pick up the groceries, if he promised to eat.
So, he ate what she bought, prepared the recipes she suggested, and worked harder to remember to lock up, a problem she pointed out after their first time together.
Now, he stood in the kitchen making some healthy chicken and a brown rice dish with lima beans and cauliflower. Everything baked or simmered like clockwork, and he tried not to get excited. Not about the release Aggie promised she’d sign today. Not about the painting he’d just finished of Aggie, passionate and desirable as she sat on his couch, beckoning to him.
A knock at the front door broke him from his emerging hard-on and wayward thoughts. He turned the saucepan down to a low setting before leaving the kitchen, determined to make this dinner perfect.
He opened to see Trix standing in the foyer, Seth playing with a small bouncing ball behind her. “Howdy, neighbor. Where have you been hiding?”
Murph shrugged his shoulders. “Nowhere, I’ve been here and busy.”
“Well, I made a pretty awesome pot roast for dinner and thought you could use a good, hearty meal. I know when you’re painting it’s hard to do any cooking.”
Normally, guilt would flood his stomach for turning her down, but this time...no remorse at all since he’d started embodying healthy behaviors. “Sorry, Trix. I’ve got dinner already cooking and someone coming over.”
For a moment, she appeared surprised, even a bit angry. Her downturned eyebrows and pursed lips disappeared behind a smile just as fast. “All right, I’ll bring you some leftovers tomorrow. Seth wanted to know if you’d join us for the farmer’s market this weekend? They are having a parade or something.”
Before he could answer, Aggie walked in the front door, smiling, black hair shimmering against a sliver of sunset peeking in behind her. Trix followed his eye path and beat him to a greeting. “Hi, Agatha. I’m trying to convince Murph to join us for dinner, but he has plans. Can I offer you a bite? Too much pot roast.”
It was weird to hear Trix call Aggie by her full name. His original dinner companion smiled wider, if anything, the smile looked more painfully polite than genuine. “Afraid I also have plans already for the evening, but thank you for offering.”
He would’ve thought Aggie would move on upstairs, or come to greet him at least, but instead, his kind-hearted muse gave her attention to a little boy. “Hi, Seth. Are you looking forward to pot roast?”
For a six-year-old, Seth never talked much, but he looked up at Murph’s Renaissance beauty and nodded in the affirmative.
“Awesome. You have a great night, okay?”
The blond-headed boy nodded again in agreement and then bounced his ball over to Aggie. She got the idea and started a small game of catch with him.
Trix’s reaction to the exchange involved narrow eyes and the pursed look to her lips from earlier.
“Are you okay?” Murph asked while putting a hand to Trix’s shoulder.
The venomous gaze she swung on him made him end his physical contact with her, and then as if a flicking a switch, it disappeared. “Yep, right as rain. So, this weekend?”
He’d lost any time to take a trip to the farmer’s market, not if he meant to put the final touches on the three paintings sitting in his living room, almost finished, and really develop the next three. One of which he planned to start tonight.
“I’ll let you know.” The lie rolled off his tongue with ease, surprising even him.
“Okay, I’ll swing by tomorrow.” Trix’s smiled disappeared as she looked away from him and started to move toward her son and Aggie, now talking about the ball in great depth. “Let’s go, Seth. Dinner is going to get cold.”
The pair walked out the door, and Aggie hurried from her spot on the stair leading to her rooms and plugged in the code to set the alarm system. Then she turned to him standing in his doorway staring into the building’s entrance. She looked at him. “Is your oven beeping?”
Sure enough, it was, a steady, high-pitched tone pulsing out the end of his cooking time. Shit. He ran into the kitchen, turned the oven off, and checked the food. Thankfully, everything stayed perfect this time, not burned or overflowing.
“Disaster averted,” he announced.
“Good. Because it smells delicious and I’m starving.” Aggie’s response came with her arms wrapping around his waist—so domestic and ideal.
“Did you want to go upstairs and change before we eat?”
She squeezed him gently. “Nope, I’m ready to enjoy my evening, not waste minutes changing clothes I plan to take off in a little while anyway.”
A little tug with a twist and he’d turned his body in her arms to face her. Leaning down, he pressed a kiss to her forehead. “How do you know they are going to come off?”
“Call it a hunch.”
They kissed again, soft and slow. God, he loved these moments when she acted as a fixture in his life, a piece of the puzzle. And truly, she fit into everything like the missing link in the chain. Things worked with her around.
“Good hunch. I’ll serve up the plates.”
“I’ll help you.”
They worked like this for the next few minutes together. A functioning team on the way to sustenance. Murph enjoyed having someone to share his cares of the day with, to review daily activities, and someone interested in what he did.
“Did you get three meals in?”
He scooped out a serving of rice next to the chicken breast on both plates. “Yes. It’s not too hard. With the alarms we set on my phone, I don’t forget.”
“I find it hilarious you barely knew half the phone functions.” Aggie added the lima beans and cauliflower mixture to each plate.
“I’m not a techie; we talked about this. It’s better to keep me as far away from technology as p
ossible.”
She nodded in agreement and moved to grab silverware. “Which I understand. Thankfully, your kitchen is already organized, so we don’t have to worry about that, too.”
He carried the plates. She grabbed the napkins and utensils, and they settled on his couch in the living room. “Want to watch a movie tonight?”
They’d fallen into a similar routine, too: dinner, a movie, and sex potentially before, during, or after said movie. Most of the time she’d initiate it...he still held back, not wanting to push her or ask anything of her—ever.
“No, let’s talk—about the painting, the schedule, or maybe your creepy tenant.”
“What? Creepy tenant?” He focused on his chicken for a minute, cutting the breast into inch-size portions. “You mean Trix?”
“Yes, and what’s up with the name?”
“It’s a nickname because of her ever-changing hair color. Surprisingly, it’s been blue and pink for a pretty long time, but won’t be long before it mutates to something else.”
“She doesn’t like me.”
He chuckled. “I can say I don’t think she likes anyone.”
“With the exception of you. She really likes you.”
A feeling of unease rose in him. This wasn’t the first time someone implied his tenant harbored a serious crush on him. Not the first time he’d wanted to shove it aside. “You’re right, and I’ll admit I never talked to anyone about it before.”
“Do you want to talk to me?”
Without hesitation, he responded, “Yes.”
#
Aggie sat as requested, back straight and looking to her left. A profile painting was what Murph called it, and truth be told, she enjoyed posing for him. Coming to his place after work every day and merely eating with him, being with him, kept her mind from thinking about Jordan or how she tended to screw things up in relationships in general. He made the interacting part easy. So, she enjoyed helping Murphy as a way to repay him for helping her not overthink things.
