by Fae Mallory
“I want to lose myself in you. I want to spend my life buried in you,” he growled. Violet blinked rapidly as he unfastened his fly and shoved his jeans and briefs down over his hips, kicking them and his shoes away until he had bared himself to her hungry gaze. Ian leaned back to give her a better view, smirking as he wrapped his hand around his straining cock and stroked himself from root to tip.
“See what you do to me, Violet? Do you see how hard I am for you? You’re the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. You’re soft and round and curvy and perfect. I know that. Now show me that you know it.” Ian grunted as he gave himself another stroke, the muscles in his forearm bunching.
Violet moaned, feeling light-headed. Ian was touching himself because of her. He was hard for her because she’d turned him on. It was her body that made his eyes go dark with lust.
Without looking away, she reached up to unfasten her bra and toss it aside, cupping her breasts in her hands and lifting, offering herself for his perusal. He growled at her action, his hips jerking when she pinched her nipples between thumb and forefinger.
“That’s it, sweetheart,” he said roughly, his strokes gaining speed. “You’re driving me out of my mind.”
She pushed her panties down and kicked them away, her fingers raking through the damp nest of curls at the juncture of her thighs. “Ian…” she moaned, tossing her head. “I want you. I’m so wet for you.”
A hoarse curse answered her, and then Ian lunged for her, the pair of them collapsing in a tangled pile of limbs atop the rough canvas. Violet twined herself around him, pressing as close as she could as he took her face in his hands to stare into her eyes. “I don’t want to hear another word about your weight. You are a work of art—a masterpiece.”
With the evidence of his desire pressing hard against her, Violet had no choice but to believe him. “Are you going to add me to your collection?”
“Oh, yes.” Ian’s eyes flared with heat. “You and everything you create.”
He pushed her onto her back, blanketing her with his body as he covered her lips with his own, his tongue plunging into her mouth to stroke against hers. Violet laughed through her nose from sheer joy, stretching her arms wide in an effort to encompass all the happiness flooding through her veins. She felt like she’d drown in the overwhelming flood of bliss. Ian loved her and wanted her, and for the first time in ages, she felt like she was worthy of such devotion.
Her outstretched hand brushed one of the tubes of paint she’d bought, and she giggled against his mouth as an idea presented itself. Ian pulled back, looking indulgently down at her as she laughed. “Is something amusing you?”
“Lie back,” she coaxed, hating to release him long enough to allow him to obey her. Ian looked up at her with affectionate tolerance, his brow furrowing when she brandished the tube of paint. “Violet?”
“I want to paint you.”
Ian raised an eyebrow as he glanced down the length of his body. “Still life with erection?” he suggested dryly.
A snorting laugh escaped her. “Not quite.”
It was a ridiculous idea, but Violet couldn’t get it out of her head. She’d been serious and buttoned up for far too long. Now she wanted to play, and there had never been a more tempting playground than Ian’s body. They’d make a mess, but that would be half the fun. Unscrewing the cap, she grabbed the middle of the tube and squeezed out a generous dollop of blue paint directly onto Ian’s chest.
He gasped as the cold paint hit his skin. “That’s not what I thought you meant,” he admitted as she trailed her fingers through the paint, making squiggles against his skin.
“I said I wanted to paint you,” she reminded him in a singsong tone, reaching for another tube of paint. She’d forgotten how much fun finger painting could be. Arranging her supplies within easy reach, Violet straddled Ian’s hips, grinding herself against his erection as she added some yellow, swirling her fingers through the combination to make green.
He growled and grabbed her hips, rocking up against her. “Violet…” His voice carried a warning that she ignored.
“Hush. I feel inspired.” With quick flicks of her fingers, she created a fern pattern, careful to extend it enough to graze his nipples.
“Two can play at this game.” Ian grinned as he grabbed a tube of red and squeezed it out onto his hands. Violet gasped as he cupped her breasts, the wet paint making everything slick as he pinched her nipples, painting sunbursts around them. Arching her back, she pressed herself against his hands, moaning in frustration when he released her.
She yelped when he flipped them over, lowering his head to blow on the wet paint. As it dried under the gust of air, the paint hardened and contracted, pinching her nipples just enough to make her long for more. “Please…” she moaned, pressing her thighs together as her core flooded with heat, her body feeling empty and unsatisfied.
“I’m going to take my time with you,” he threatened, his voice dark with sensual promise. “Did I ever tell you I wanted to be an artist?”
She wriggled as he grabbed another tube of paint, adding purple highlights to the red, his fingers slick against her breasts. “You did?”
“No talent for it. Apparently, I just needed the right inspiration.” Spreading his fingers wide, he raked them down her front to give her tiger stripes and then reached for the green to make stark handprints on her stomach.
“Gorgeous. I love how soft you are.” Using just his fingertips, he added polka dots to his whimsical design.
Violet giggled as he played with her body, aware that she was jiggling. For the first time, it didn’t matter. It was impossible to hate her body when it gave Ian so much pleasure, and from the feel of his hard cock nudging her thigh, she clearly pleased him very much.
Reaching out, she groped for another tube of paint and came up with orange. Getting a generous amount on her hands, she reached out and wrote her name in loopy script across his chest, then risked making another addition.
“Property of Violet Fabre,” Ian read aloud as he looked down at himself. His expression was inscrutable and for a moment she was afraid she’d overstepped. Ian loved her, but that didn’t mean he was inclined to consider himself her property.
“If…if you want to be,” she murmured, nibbling on her bottom lip.
Ian’s eyes flared with heat. “Damn straight, I’m yours.” He covered her with his body, the paint smearing between them as he captured her mouth, sinking his teeth into her lower lip. “Do you have any idea how crazy it makes me when you do that?” he demanded, punctuating his words with biting kisses.
“Do what?” Violet panted as she arched into him, wrapping her legs around his calves as she silently begged him to take her.
“When you bite your lip. That was the first fantasy I ever had about you. I would have given every painting in that gallery for you to bite mine.” His invitation was impossible to resist. With a quick flick of her tongue, she encouraged him to part his lips for her, and then she captured his bottom lip between her teeth, tugging firmly as she laved her tongue over that tempting bit of flesh.
Ian hissed with pleasure, his hips jerking against hers. Instead of taking her as she’d hoped, he pulled away, leaving her arching helplessly and whimpering in dismay. “Roll over. I’m not done painting you yet.”
With a moan of frustration, Violet rolled onto her stomach, rocking her hips against the crumpled canvas in a desperate bid for stimulation. Hands slick with paint grabbed her, forcing her to hold still. “Be patient.”
“I want you,” she begged, her voice cracking.
“Oh, you’ll have me,” he promised, nudging her thighs apart so he could kneel between them. Only Ian’s hands on her hips kept her still as he lowered his head to press his lips against her tailbone, dragging his tongue up her spine in a long, slow lick all the way to the nape of her neck. His cock throbbed against her cheeks as he nibbled gently at the base of her throat, and then sucked hard, bringing blood rushing to the surface.
“Paint wash
es off, but that won’t,” he informed her, his voice smug. “Now, you’re mine, too.”
“I always was,” Violet confessed.
His teeth closed over her earlobe and gave a light tug, rewarding her for her honesty. “I should have claimed you months ago. I should have had you in my gallery that first day when you wanted to change my mind about Geminids.”
Even as Violet writhed on the canvas, unable to stay still as Ian slipped his hands under her to caress her stomach and thighs, she cringed at the memory. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
Warm lips kissed the side of her face. “I know you didn’t, sweetheart. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t tease about it.”
Even though she hadn’t meant to offer him sexual favors at the time, Violet could see the allure of pretending otherwise. “We should try that again someday. In your gallery, I mean. Only this time you wouldn’t have to leave.”
He feigned a scandalized gasp that made her smile. “Miss Fabre, are you propositioning me?”
Grinning, she pushed her hips back, feeling his cock pressing snugly between her cheeks. “Just a little.”
Ian’s chuckle stirred her hair. “Sweetheart, you are a dream come true.”
Violet whimpered and spread her legs wider as he rubbed himself through her folds, briefly grazing her clitoris before teasing the entrance of her body. The breath left her in a wail as he eased just the head inside in a shallow thrust before withdrawing to rub himself against her again. “Ian! Please!”
“Soon,” he panted, scraping his teeth over the bite mark he’d left on her throat.
When he entered her a second time, Violet jerked her hips back, trying to force him deeper, and Ian groaned, a sound she echoed as he pulled out. “Greedy,” he accused, slapping his hand against her ass.
The playful spank sent a jolt through her. That kind of play had never interested Violet, but the thought of being put over Ian’s lap like a naughty schoolgirl sent a wave of heat flooding through her. She moaned in protest when Ian sat up, the sound turning into a squeal when strong hands squeezed her cheeks.
“You have the most incredible ass I’ve ever seen,” he informed her. “I love how it fills my hands. I love your dimples, the way they begged to be kissed.”
His hands gave her a tug, bringing her up onto her knees, her upper body still pressed against the canvas. As Violet trembled, Ian made good on his words of praise, running his tongue over the juncture where her thigh met her bottom. His lips mapped every inch of her skin, sending shivers coursing through her body. “Do you believe me yet, Violet?”
Violet clawed at the canvas, trying to make sense of his question with a mind fogged by lust. “What?” she panted, sobbing when he pulled away, the only contact between them his hands on her hips.
“You’re the sexiest woman in the world. Do you believe me?” She whimpered when he took his hand off her hip and then keened when she felt the blunt head of his cock sliding through her folds, tormenting her as he carefully avoided brushing her clitoris.
“Yes!” she cried, pushing her hips back in desperation.
“Say it,” he hissed. The head of his cock was pressed against her opening, and her channel spasmed, begging to be filled.
“I’m…I’m sexy,” Violet mumbled, the words feeling unnatural in her mouth.
“Say it like you mean it,” Ian commanded, his firm grip on her preventing her from pushing her hips back to take him inside.
“I’m sexy,” she repeated in a stronger voice. To reward her compliance, he rubbed his cock against her clitoris, and her legs nearly gave out.
“Say it again. Scream it.” No matter how she moved, Ian refused to enter her, and Violet sobbed with frustration. He wasn’t going to take her until she convinced him, and that was all the incentive Violet needed.
“I’m the sexiest woman in the world!” she shouted.
Before she had a chance to worry what her neighbors would think, Ian thrust forward, slamming into her with enough force to make her teeth rattle. She screamed, scrabbling at the canvas to get her arms under her, lifting herself to her hands and knees so she had the leverage to rock back into his hard thrusts as Ian pounded into her.
“Yes, you are. You’re the sexiest woman—my woman,” he growled. He wrapped himself around her from behind, one hand palming her breast as the other dived between her legs, his fingers stroking her clitoris in time with his desperate thrusts.
“Ian, please…” Violet begged, arching her neck back as he nipped at her throat, the slight pain grounding her in reality. This was really happening. She was completely engulfed by him—by Ian, who loved her as much as she loved him. No fantasy had ever been half so good.
Violet’s arms gave out, Ian’s weight bearing her down onto the canvas which she could feel bunching beneath her as they moved together, their bodies straining in tandem. Ian’s chest was hot against her back, sweat making everything slick and sloppy, and she could only imagine the paint-smeared mess they were making of each other.
The new position changed the angle of penetration, and Violet keened at the pressure against her upper wall, the sensations overwhelming her. Ian was inside of her and on top of her, consuming her utterly with the heat of his passion. This was what her body was made for—to give him pleasure and take pleasure in return. He loved and wanted her, and she had nothing to be ashamed of.
Ian’s lips traced the shell of her ear, his whisper sending a thrill through her. “Are you going to come for me, sweetheart?”
“Oh, yes,” she gasped, turning her face to try to catch his mouth with her own. Ian cooperated, straining his neck so their lips could touch, their tongue twining together lewdly in the open air. He ground his hips against hers at the height of each thrust, trapping her between his solid body and teasing fingers. Never could Violet have imagined a more pleasurable prison.
Her entire body was shaking under his tender assault, her universe contracting down to this moment. The world could end, and as long as Ian was making love to her, she’d never notice. “God, sweetheart, you’re killing me.” He moaned against her lips. “The way you move…the noises you make… I can’t get enough. I’m addicted to you.”
In this position, she couldn’t touch him at all, and Violet felt a momentary pang. She wanted to touch Ian, to give back even a tenth of the pleasure that he was giving her, but pushing him away even long enough to roll over was out of the question. Instead, she concentrated on what she could do. He’d been eloquent in his praise of her. It was only fair to return the favor.
“I wanted you the moment I saw you.” At her words, his tempo changed, his thrusts becoming almost leisurely as she caught his attention.
“Go on,” he prompted, his voice gravelly.
“I think I would have done anything you asked me to do. I’ve never reacted to a man like that before. You turned my world upside down.” She bit her lip, wondering how much to reveal. “I touched myself thinking of you.”
“Violet…” Ian sounded like he was in agony as he groaned her name. He pulled out of her completely, and then thrust home again with a snap of his hips that made her jolt. “Keep talking,” he pleaded.
With the brutal rhythm he was setting, Violet could scarcely think, let alone talk, but somehow she found words. “I pretended you were watching me. I always feel like you’re watching me.”
“I’m going to,” he vowed, running his tongue over the back of her neck.
“I love how you touch me. The way you kiss me… You make me feel beautiful.” Violet canted her hips back to take him deeper, feeling the buildup of shimmering warmth that meant her climax was approaching.
“You are beautiful,” Ian insisted. His mouth closed over the base of her throat as he withdrew, moving his hands to her hips to hold her in place as he entered her in a quick flurry of shallow thrusts, making her inner muscles flutter as she tried to hold onto him. Just when she was ready to scream, he plunged into her, sheathing himself to the hilt.
“Ian!” s
he wailed, jerking helplessly as her climax washed over her, setting her ablaze. Behind her, she could hear Ian groaning in ecstasy, his strong body shuddering as he spilled himself inside of her.
Violet subsided with drawn-out moan, reveling in the warm weight of Ian’s body on top of hers, soothing her twitching muscles. “I love you.”
“I love you, too, sweetheart.” Ian stroked his tongue apologetically over the mark he’d left on her throat, the hot rasp of his tongue over her hypersensitive flesh making her gasp. “I’m sorry. I got a little carried away.”
Until the bruise healed, everyone who saw her would see the mark and know that Ian had branded her as his. Every person who’d chided her to be realistic because Ian was out of her league would know that he wanted her. Violet couldn’t restrain her smug smile. “I don’t mind.” Her only regret was that she hadn’t had the chance to mark him in turn.
She shifted beneath him, his weight growing uncomfortable, and Ian lifted himself off of her at once. “I must be crushing you.”
Immediately, her body missed being filled by his, but Violet had to admit that it was easier to draw breath now. With his help, she stood up, wincing as she peeled the canvas away from her skin. In a fit of whimsy, she smoothed it out, getting her first look at their unconventional piece of artwork. The canvas was smeared with paint, the wrinkles from their enthusiastic love making resulting in a pattern that looked a bit like waves.
It was actually rather striking, and Violet giggled at the thought that they might have invented a new painting technique. “And you said you weren’t an artist.”
“I want it.” Ian sounded almost as lustful as he had when he watched her strip for him as he knelt down to examine the paint-smeared canvas.
Violet followed his gaze, looking critically at the mess they’d made. The jagged streaks of color on the canvas had a blatant, almost sexual energy, but she wasn’t sure if it was the painting itself that conveyed the idea or just the fact that she knew how it had been created. “Is it going to go in your gallery?” she teased.
To her surprise, Ian nodded. “Oh yes. I know exactly the place for it.”
