Painting for Keeps

by Landra Graf

  Which when she did, he wedged a foot in between the entry wall and the door.

  “I’ll be fine on my own.” Her voice sounded hoarse and ten times more awful than a moment ago.

  “Sure thing, but I can start making up for my dickish-ness by taking care of you now.”

  “Fine.” She walked away from the door and headed to the kitchen. Her will to fight him was gone, replaced with the desperate need to soothe her aching throat.

  He followed her, not asking questions, but waiting until she drank half a glass of tap water before he spoke again. “So, no stomach flu bug or food poisoning. What’s really going on?”

  She wondered how transparent she’d been. As far as she knew, her secret was still her own. “My problem, not your deal.”

  “Funny how when I said the same thing, you refused to let me get away with it.” He pushed himself onto the counter, sitting beside her sink like it was a perfectly normal thing to do. “You don’t get that benefit, either. Spill the story.”

  “It’s a really long one.”

  “I’ve got all night.”

  #

  Murph could tell she wanted him to disappear, if anything, to save her from confessing something he’d already guessed. She walked into the main living area and plopped on her couch, a brown leather cushy thing. He took a seat next to her and used the moment to familiarize himself with her, how she lived. Neat, tidy, and nothing out of place—the exact opposite of his semi-messy, chaotic living.

  He’d never spent much time wondering at her habits. He’d always focused on her emotions, and it’d be best to keep things that way. Not waste time reminding himself how they were polar opposites outside of their sexual attraction and both dealing with a mountain of issues.

  “All right. Lay it on me. I’m ready.” He truly was. As soon as she’d walked in the building, he’d been ready for confrontation. Then she’d blown up at him and ran, which went against her personality in every way.

  “I have bulimia.”

  He wrapped one of her hands in his. “Today you suffered a relapse, I take it?”

  “Yeah, a big one.” She pulled away from him, sobbing into both of her hands. After a few seconds, she came up for air. “I—I had a frustrating call with my mother and went out to clear my head. Then I saw him, with her, and they were in one of my places. Mine.”

  She needed comfort, whether she wanted it or not, so Murph scooted closer. Gradually guiding her body to lean against him, to give her strength in knowing he sat beside her. “Tell me everything.”

  “My mother is difficult on most days, always giving unwanted advice. She throws me off balance. I went to the farmer’s market to get some stuff for a healthy dinner. Food helps take my mind off bad things. The first booth I stopped at, my luck, really, and he called out to me. Standing there with his new woman, the new me, the skinny, blonde me. He brought her because I’d gone there with him. Making a place I considered safe for me awful and horrible.”

  Her whole body shuddered and another sob burst forward. “I got so angry, but I couldn’t get the angry words to come out. Really, I didn’t want to make a scene. For anyone to say look at the big girl he obviously left because she wouldn’t lose weight or some stupid crap. So I took off.”

  Tightening his grip on her, trying to let his own body heat work as a balm, he asked, “What then?”

  “Then I drove to a gas station and filled up on glazed donuts and cheesy puffs. Oh, I ate half a dozen donuts and nearly a whole bag of those cheese things. Shoving unhealthy stuff into my mouth, each swallow wiped away a little bit of the pain until I started driving again.”

  “Then you felt worse.”

  She looked up at him. “How did you know?”

  “Every time I come out of mania or yo-yo from high to low, there’s a moment I feel awful for anything I’ve put anyone through. It’s like bingeing and then the purging. Up and down, the same thing, really, and the moments before the down hits are all designed to take me to the worst possible place. A hole I may not be able to crawl out of. You just go through your cycles a little bit faster than me.”

  “I’d never thought of it like that.”

  “It’s not an easy comparison.” He tucked a bit of her hair behind her ear. “Actually, I came up with it a few minutes ago.”

  They both chuckled, and then she looked at him. Moisture still clung to her eyes, tears ready to spill with very little effort needed to do so. He had the strong urge to get rid of those tears, a protective instinct to keep her safe and secret from anyone or anything. “How can I make this better, Aggie?”

  “Not much to make better. It’s something I have to deal with. I fell off the wagon, and the count starts over again.” When she stood a minute later, he felt bereft, as if something precious and warm had been lost to him. “I’ll be right back.”

  Half of him didn’t want to let her escape him again, wanted to follow and chase her down. He’d become tired of backing away, being quiet and reserved when the emotions within him wanted to jump up and over the moon. She’d done so much for him. Sure, he still rode a manic line, but the end wasn’t in sight. No, in fact, he seemed to be coming down slowly, not diving into a depressive state.

  Minutes ticked by and he glanced at his phone half a dozen times, checking the time and making deals with himself, if she stayed away for more than five minutes, no, four minutes. Then he’d go down the hallway to find her, tell her the low point wasn’t a time to be alone. Low points, like his a few weeks prior, required friends. He considered himself a friend.

  Except, she walked into the room before the time deadline came. She crossed to him and came right back to his arms. “Thank you. I needed to brush my teeth. I had puke breath.”

  “I don’t care about bad breath.”

  Aggie’s single raised eyebrow nearly made him laugh. “Every guy cares about it. Personal hygiene is high on the list of desirable traits.”

  “Maybe for D-bags, never me. I’m here to comfort you with or without puke breath. Hell, you could have puke all over your clothes and I’d still touch you.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “You’re beautiful, Aggie. Inside and out. Too bad your idiot ex failed to see what I do.”

  Another kiss to each eyebrow. “You’re gorgeous even after you’ve eaten a bunch of donuts or cried buckets. It makes no difference. I’m still going to want you no matter what.” He rained kisses onto her nose, cheeks, chin, eyes, and finally, her lips.

  Minty fresh taste assailed him, but it didn’t cover up the inherent taste she possessed, something earthy and clean. He loved it. The emotion rattling around in his brain should’ve scared him, but instead, he decided to embrace it and pour every ounce of what he could only describe as love into worshiping her body.

  To prove his point, he hoisted her into his arms, and she gasped in shock. “You’ll hurt yourself, lifting me like that.”

  “You weigh nothing, goddess. Now, which room did you make your bedroom?”

  “The one at the end of the hallway.”

  Twelve quick steps and they were there, a glorious environment of pristine white bedding, pillows, and a throw rug. The fancy four-poster, queen-sized bed monstrosity even had a sheer white canopy. “You sleep like a princess.”

  “I like nice things.”

  His hands still bore the remnants of paint from his earlier session. His clothes were the same. The life of the painter—always messy, never neat. “Can your bed, actually, can you bear to see your bed marred by my dirty self?”

  She playfully smacked his chest. “If you can stand all my imperfections, I can certainly handle yours. Besides, laundry soap and stain removers were invented for that exact purpo—oof.” The noise, and her sentence cutting off, went straight to his groin as she landed in the center of her bed, exactly where he’d planned to place her.

  He removed his clothes before joining her. “I’m going to give you exactly ten minutes to do whatever you want to me. I’m yours and at your mercy.”

>   Aggie’s eyes were as wide as flat brushes. “Why would you want to do that?”

  “Because I take it no one has ever let you do it.”

  “No.” She shook her head with the word.

  “Then take your chance now.”

  She grinned, then a wicked, downright hedonistic grin. “Anything?”

  “Anything at all, but when those ten minutes are up, the tables turn.”

  #

  “You have a deal,” Aggie said as she sat up to look at him. Murphy’s body was a thing of beauty, from the tattoo, to his muscles, to the thin line of blond hair trailing from his navel and surrounding his dick and scrotum. She reached for his dick first, loving the hiss he released when she touched him.

  He visibly tensed, too, but never voiced any opposition.

  “I missed this.”

  He cocked his head to one side as she stroked him, slowly. “What?” The question came out on an exhale, a sign she distracted him well.

  “You, me, and a bed. It’s been lonely the last few nights.”

  “I missed it, too.” The softening in his eyes, the emotion lingering there, scared the crap out of her. She wanted no sentiments beyond the orgasmic kind, the kind to make them forget all the problems lying outside their building. The realities of their issues and the fact they both needed more help than the other could offer. He’d made her feel desirable in a moment when she felt the furthest from it. Focusing on the want would prove better than letting him in.

  She bent and touched her tongue to the tip of him.

  “Aggie, I didn’t mean you had to do that when I said you were in control.”

  “But I want to.” And she did. Tasting him completely and letting him fill her. He was circumcised and perfect. She’d always enjoyed giving head, but on her terms. Jordan tended to take over instead of letting her control things, but Murph, supplicant and at her mercy, she found herself getting involved more. Exploring. A wandering hand moved to his balls, cupping them and squeezing gently.

  The groan she got from the action made her want more, and she repeated the motion, suctioning his dick into her mouth, hot and tight at the same time.

  His entire body went rigid. “I’m going to come.”

  Exactly what she wanted, his cum in her mouth. Another ball tug and the swirl of her tongue around his length, and away he went. Hot, salty semen pumped out, and she swallowed every drop. Licking and laving until his dick was as clean as when she’d first gone down.

  He watched her, and she knew it...hell, she didn’t care. “You are amazing.”

  “No, I’m a horny girl who likes sucking dick the way I want to.” Or she was falling in love with a man who she shouldn’t. Don’t give them everything.

  A chuckle, husky and low, came from him. “Really? Well, I don’t think I’ve ever come so fast in my life.” He glanced at his phone. “And right at ten minutes, too. Mind blown.”

  “No, dick blown.” She winked at him and lay down beside him. “I feel better now.”

  “Oh, no.” Murph shook his head in disagreement. “The description won’t do. I want you to feel as wonderful as me, and since those ten minutes are up, it’s my turn.”

  He sat up and then moved to the end of the bed, running his hands along her legs, massaging them. Not much time passed before he slipped the button on her jeans and peeled the denim from her, pairing the article with her socks, discarded to the floor. Her panties were next to fall prey and disappear. Then he started the slow torture, rubbing and kneading her bare feet, moving up to her calves, and finally her thighs.

  She’d never been so aroused and relaxed in her life. Aroused because she lay naked from the waist down and at any moment he’d move up right where she wanted him. Her mind kept wandering to what he would do with his mouth, fingers, or both. Hell, he could’ve entered her right now and she’d be satisfied.

  Relaxation of her muscles came from those magic hands. Her eyes went wide with anticipation when she felt and saw him start to trail upward, rubbing a single finger between her nether hair against her swollen lips. Damn.

  “What?”

  Maybe she’d said the word out loud and not in her mind. “I need you. I need something.” Anything, she was so wound up, amazed she didn’t jump off the bed like a jack-in-the-box or a spring released from confines.

  “Something as in, an orgasm?” He smiled, playfully making fun of her.

  “Next time I have your dick at my mercy, I won’t let you come so fast.”

  “I’m worshiping you, not giving you quick release.”

  She groaned. “What if I want quick release?” The last word came out with a whimper. Pathetic, but at this point, who cared? More worship meant feelings, and she already suffered from those, even if she wouldn’t admit to them.

  “You’re at my mercy now, meaning no rushing.” And he stayed true to his words. He teased her, flicked the top of her clit, and pinched the same spot between his index and middle fingers before leaning down to kiss her. While their mouths entwined, he effectively demonstrated what his tongue was capable of. He let his hands get to work down below. Before long, he pumped into her with two fingers, his thumb grazing the sensitive area of her clit. She’d die if he didn’t let her find release.

  And she bit his tongue when he pulled out. “Damn it, Murphy! I need this.”

  He laughed. “I like you all wound up and feisty. It’s refreshing.” Then he pressed a kiss to her nose. “Do you really want me?”

  The question was a loaded gun, the way he made eye contact with her, flooding her mind with emotion, chipping away at the wall of strength already weakened by earlier events. His stare so serious and filled with desire and something else. She’d been trying to avoid this, to not go deeper, but here he was bringing it up again.

  “Of course.” She looked away as the words came out.

  He grabbed her chin, forcing her to look back at him. “Not a real answer. You didn’t even look at me. Do you want me?”

  When had everything gotten so serious? What happened to sex only? His question implied something more.

  “I want your dick inside me, chasing oblivion.”

  “But me? What about the rest of me?” There was pleading in his eyes now, along with the other things, a crook to his eyebrows, and a worry mark in the center of his forehead. Need welled up within her, the need to smooth the worry away, to embrace him and remove all his doubts. He needed safety, comfort, and caring as much as she did. At that moment, she knew she wanted more from life, more from him, but getting it would be too scary to contemplate. Regardless, she could offer him a truthful, committed answer. “Yes, I want you.”

  This time, he kissed her, and something changed. Their meeting turned into wild passion, abandon. She lost all sense of everything. And then, “Fuck. I don’t have any condoms with me.”

  A risk, but she wanted him too much, wanted this. “I’m on the pill. Just get inside me.”

  “That’s not...you don’t know where I’ve been.”

  She touched his cheek. Funny, because she had an idea. “How many women in the last two years?”

  “One and I’ve been tested since.”

  “I was with one guy and we never bare-backed.”

  “Does this mean...”

  She sighed. Strange how they were about to share something they’d never shared with anyone else. “Yes, it’d be my first time.”

  “Mine, too.”

  Leaning up, she kissed him before whispering, “Then let’s get going.”

  Everything went up in flames. She felt it in the way his body changed, relaxed and melted against her. Her shirt and bra disappeared somewhere in the mess of tangled limbs and tongue exchanges. Then he was nudging her legs apart, positioning himself at her entrance, and inside. She sang hallelujahs until he stopped moving. “Are you sure? I mean, I can stop if you don’t want to risk it.”

  “I need you. I want you.”

  That was all it took, and he surged forward. Getting inside her t
o the hilt seemed easy enough, and she loved the feeling. A brand-new experience without anything separating them. For a moment, time paused, and she let out a low moan of appreciation when he pulled out, only to gasp as he slammed back into her.

  “Too rough?” He sounded genuinely concerned.

  “More,” she called out, closing her eyes as he started setting a good pace. Lost in the rhythm of their movements, she let the sounds of flesh on flesh and his fingers pinching her nipples to dominate. It didn’t get better than this.

  “Aggie, open your eyes. Look at me, at us.”

  She wanted to avoid it but couldn’t deny him. His gaze, strong and caring, locked with hers, and when she smiled, he smiled back. He moved faster, never breaking the connection with her. They rode the wave of their release, both of their bodies joined in pleasure as their orgasms crashed into them. The sensation of his fluids mingling with hers, a means of creation and yet release at the same time.

  Murphy collapsed on the bed beside her, wrapping her in his arms and pulling her close. They lay there, letting their breathing patterns return to normal. Aggie listened to his heartbeat as it slowed to rest. She started to feel drowsy, no surprise after the stress of her day and the physical workout. Murph pressed a kiss to the top of her head. A contented gesture, and one she’d happily agree with until he said, “Agatha, I love you.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Murph glanced at Aggie lounging on the bed, sprawled across it. They’d been wrapped in each other for nearly twenty-four hours. He hadn’t repeated his declaration of love, at least failed to see the need since she’d gone silent once he said it.

  They’d slept, ate, and he moved on, pretending like he’d never said anything. Better, though not so safe, since a part of him already wept for her missing declaration. The high he rode was starting to fade fast, and his buoyancy suffered. He’d set up a post off the left side of her queen monstrosity to take advantage of a bevy of afternoon light pouring in the south window. He put to canvas his love, sketching Aggie as she lay there tangled in her sheets, a princess on a bed throne; too unattainable for him or for anyone.