Paint Me Curious Bronze [Curious] (Siren Publishing Allure)

by Silke Ming

  She threw her head back and wallowed in the unexpected pleasure. He kissed one breast and then the other, while she ran her fingers through his unruly hair. He moved her gently over to the sofa as he continued the assault on her senses. She cried out as the euphoria travelled through her body.

  “Get on your knees,” he said, pushing her over the handle of the sofa and pulling one leg out of her underwear, leaving it dangling on the other leg.

  Her head buried deep in the cushion of the sofa and her buttocks high in the air, he positioned himself behind her and reached under her blouse.

  “Ohhhh,” he said, closing his eyes and allowing his thoughts to run wild.

  He held her full breasts in the palms of his hands, and caressed her nipples, which by this time had grown to two tight peaks.

  “The most beautiful scenery at 43098 Port Collier Road,” he said, unzipping his fly and releasing his erection.

  He spread her cheeks open and stared lustfully at the sight before him. Her anger had turned to lust, and she gave herself to him freely.

  “You should see him,” he said, massaging his full erection. “He can’t wait to bury himself deep inside you.”

  “Touch me,” she called out, reaching back and placing his hand on her clit.

  He drove himself into her and her muscles tightened, drawing him in.

  “You are so wet, Summer. Are you still angry with me?” he asked, looking down at his thick dick, which he thrust unmercifully into her.

  She could only moan and grab the seat cushions, for there was much ferocity behind his thrusts.

  “Answer me,” he demanded.

  “I forgot…I forgot what you asked,” she replied.

  “Are…you…still…angry…with…me?” he asked, jamming himself deeper with each word.

  “No,” she cried out.

  “Are you enjoying it?”

  “Yes! Ye–e–e–e–s.”

  “Then tell me how much you like it.”

  “I–I–I–I…”

  “I what?” he asked, bucking at a fever pitch.

  He then slowly pulled himself out to the crown, manipulated it around her throbbing sex, and then jammed it in again.

  “Come, Summer, come,” he shouted, throwing his head back and thrusting his hips back and forth. “Oh God, Summer, I can’t wait.”

  One more thrust, and his aromatic juices flowed freely into her body.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, as his limp prick slipped out and rested its dead head on the front of his jeans.

  She was still hot with lust and moved in anticipation of things to come.

  He reached under her buttocks and slowly caressed her clit, and then inserted two fingers into her, moving them around and around until a tremor shook her body. She called out his name, begging him to do unmentionable things to her.

  He held her and squeezed her.

  “Please trust me, Summer,” he said, holding her gently. “I would never do anything to hurt you.”

  “I love you, Seamus.”

  That was the first time she had ever uttered those words to him, and he loved it.

  Chapter Twenty

  Two months had passed since they had returned from New York City, and the sun had moved over to the west, casting long evening shadows. Cooler winds had started to blow, and the daylight hours had become shorter. Summer had not seen the Podestas since they had said good-bye to each other in the lobby of the hotel in New York. She and Seamus behaved like a couple deeply in love. He had thirteen new paintings and was getting ready for a show in Miami. Summer was looking forward to the short holiday in the Sunshine State.

  Millie was still running the household, and nothing and no one got past the Irish lady. Seamus was in his studio and Summer was out, when she heard a car coming up the driveway. Thinking it was Summer returning, she opened the door and came face-to-face with a blonde lady.

  “I don’t know you,” Lana Podesta said.

  “And I don’t know you,” Millie replied. “Could I be of some help?”

  “I’m here to see Seamus. Is he at home?”

  “He is. Who should I say is calling?” asked Millie.

  “Is he in his studio?”

  “Who wants to know?” Millie asked again.

  “If he is in his studio, I know the way,” she said, trying to push past Millie.

  “Madam, state your business,” said Millie, blocking her way to the stairway.

  “Do you know who I am?” Lana asked.

  “Doesn’t matter who you are, madam! I’m just doing my job and until you tell me who you are, there will be no climbing these stairs.”

  Seamus heard the noise coming from below and opened the studio door.

  “What are you doing here, Lana?” he asked as Millie broadened her stance to block her way.

  “Hello, Seamus. I just thought I would drop in to invite you and Summer to dinner. Where is she, anyway?” she asked.

  “I don’t know anything about a dinner invitation, and I’m sure Summer wouldn’t want to come,” he said adamantly.

  “Speak to her and get back to me,” she said, looking up at him. “We want to have a few friends over for dinner.”

  “I will tell her to call you,” he said.

  Millie listened to the interaction and still did not move from the bottom of the stairs.

  “Only last night Fred drew it to my attention that we hadn’t seen you since the show in New York City.”

  “Like I said, Summer will get back to you.”

  He opened the studio door and disappeared inside, leaving Lana in the very capable hands of Millie O’Reilly. Lana huffed and puffed as she walked to the door ahead of Millie. She realized there was no chance of ever seeing Seamus again, at least not in his home.

  When Summer returned, Millie related the story of the older blonde woman who had appeared at the front door. Summer laughed and thought about the treasure they had found in Millie O’Reilly, as the housekeeper described the altercation in every detail.

  “And she flew past me like a banshee in heat, but I was faster, Summer. I stood at the bottom of the stairs and blocked her. Seamus said I shouldn’t go up there, so I believed that was meant for any stranger who came through those doors.”

  “Thank you, Millie. I wish I had been here to witness that.”

  “Have no fear, Summer. As long as I’m here, I’ll be looking after your interest.”

  She felt close to the woman. She hadn’t felt that close to anyone since the death of her mother. The thought brought tears to her eyes. She remembered the last days of her mother’s life and how she had suffered. When she was given the death sentence of an inoperable brain tumour, she was very brave. She never once asked, “why me?” She carried on with her life until she was confined to her bed. Summer remembered when she left university to look after her until her passing. After that she returned to finish her master’s degree in English language. She wanted to travel and to teach English language at a foreign university, but couldn’t find a position at home where she could gain a bit of experience and save a bit of money. All that she had accumulated was the money from the sale of her mother’s home, and the inheritance tax had eaten up most of it.

  She was not in a relationship with Seamus because of the money, but because she truly loved him. He was eight years older than she, but it didn’t matter. He loved her, and she knew she could have a great life with him, when he wasn’t painting. That was another void Millie had also filled. When he started to paint, he closed out the world and concentrated only on his canvas, his palette, and paintbrush. Millie, in the short time she was there, had nicknamed him Michelangelo and referred to his studio as the Sistine Chapel because of the long hours he spent there, only leaving when he was hungry, and returning there directly after the last bite.

  * * * *

  Seamus’s cell phone started to ring. He picked it up and heard Fred’s voice on the other end. At first Seamus thought it had something to do with Millie’s rough tr
eatment of Lana, but all he wanted to do was to say hello and also to find if the show in New York had been a financial success.

  “I didn’t get in touch before because I was quite busy, as you must have seen on the news.”

  “Actually I haven’t been watching too much television, because I’ve been busy with the upcoming show in Miami in November.”

  “My latest acquisition stands proudly over the sofa. Lana actually chose the location for it.”

  “Is that the painting of the house nestled between the trees?” Seamus asked.

  “How could you have forgotten?”

  “There was so much going on in New York that I have totally forgotten most of what went on down there.”

  “And speaking of New York, I want to apologize for my indiscretion on the first day of the exhibit,” said Fred.

  “I don’t remember any indiscretion, Fred.”

  “As usual, you’re trying to be discreet. I know what happened. Lana told me the following morning that I was so drunk you had to help her to put me to bed. Of course, she didn’t use such polite words.”

  Seamus was relieved. Was that all that he had recalled?

  “Well, no harm was done.”

  “I was wondering if I could come over on Thursday night. Lana has a meeting, and I thought that if you weren’t busy, I could come over, see your new paintings, and have a man-to-man chat.”

  “I’ll speak to Summer to see if she has anything planned.”

  “Are the two of you now together?”

  “I don’t know how I lived so long without her by my side. She is everything I could ever want in my life.”

  “I’m happy for you both. Get back to me with your decision,” he said.

  “When Summer comes in, I’ll let you know.”

  He could hear Summer’s voice. She was talking to Millie. They were laughing. He wondered what the conversation was about but continued to paint until there was a knock on the door.

  “Hello there,” she said, rubbing her hands along his shoulders.

  “How was the shopping?” he asked without looking up.

  “Got everything I needed,” she replied.

  “By the way, have we anything planned for Thursday evening?”

  “Nothing. Why do you ask?”

  “Fred called and asked if he and I could have a business meeting on Thursday evening.”

  “That gives me a chance to go to dinner with Toby, and by the way, I am not going to Lana’s for dinner, or for anything!”

  “I knew you wouldn’t go.”

  “Great,” she said as she made her way back down the stairs.

  “What’s good for dinner tonight?” Summer asked Millie.

  “Ah, tonight it will be my mother’s recipe. Irish stew, mashed potatoes, and lima beans. All you’ve got to do is to heat it up. But not for too long! Won’t taste too good if you overheat it! I’ve got to be going. Don’t let Michelangelo fall asleep in the Sistine chapel.”

  Summer laughed and walked out the door with the woman. She got into her pickup truck, threw the gear into reverse, and backed out on the main road.

  What a strong lady, thought Summer. It was good having her around even if it meant they could only be private after three thirty in the afternoon. She decided to call Toby.

  “Why don’t you come out next Thursday and we will go out to dinner? It will also give you a chance to meet Seamus.”

  “I was wondering if he was a figment of your imagination,” said Toby, speaking quietly into the phone.

  “Why would you say a thing like that?”

  Because you have been hiding him,” he said. “I would be honoured to meet him and to have dinner with you.”

  “I look forward to it, Toby. Why don’t you come out at six thirty and we can go to dinner from here. I know a very nice Italian restaurant,” she said with a giggle.

  “Why did you laugh when you mentioned the Italian restaurant? Something you want to tell me, Summer?”

  “Not really.”

  “I know you will give me all those scorching little details. See you on Thursday at six thirty. I’ll call you before then for the directions.”

  “See you then, Toby.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  “Hello, Millie,” Seamus said. “That was a beautiful dinner you made us last night.”

  “Glad you enjoyed it. It was one of my mother’s favorite recipes.”

  “Have you seen Summer?” he asked.

  He found her outside cleaning her Audi convertible. He smiled to himself. He knew the car had made her happy, and he was pleased with the choice that he had made.

  “Hi there,” she said, when she saw him standing in the doorway.

  “Why don’t you take it through the car wash?”

  “I’m afraid it might get scratched.”

  “Well it’s only a car, and if it gets scratched we can take it back to the dealer and have it fixed.”

  “I’d rather do it myself,” she said, stepping back and admiring her handiwork.

  “By the way, someone called this morning about the Beetle. He said he would like to buy it for his son.”

  “How much did he offer?”

  “How does one thousand sound to you?”

  “I didn’t think I would get that much for it.”

  “I thought it was too much, but I didn’t argue with him. He would like to come by on Friday morning, and if he likes what he sees, he will pay you on the spot.”

  “Good. Don’t forget that Toby and I are going out to dinner on Thursday night. I’m sure you won’t want us around when Fred Podesta comes by.”

  “What do you mean?” he asked, his face suddenly etched with worry.

  “You are going to talk about business. Stocks, shares, and that kind of thing! That would bore us to death.”

  “Will I get to meet this man who bats on both sides of the team?” he asked, laughing.

  “Of course you will meet him. He will be here around six thirty, and then we will leave for Port Collier. I’ve made a dinner reservation for seven at the Italian restaurant.”

  “I’m the only one who is allowed to play games with you under the table, Summer.”

  “You have nothing to worry about,” she said, throwing the soapy sponge at him.

  He retaliated, and soon there was a water fight going on outside. The loud screams brought Millie to the door, and she could only laugh as she watched the two of them frolicking like teenagers.

  * * * *

  “You look lovely,” Seamus said as Summer appeared in the hallway, dressed in white slacks and a green top. “It was a good idea to wear slacks.”

  “Don’t you trust me?” she asked.

  “Yes, it’s your friend I don’t trust,” he said. “He bats on both teams, isn’t that what you said?”

  “I think he’s here,” she said, walking quickly to open the door.

  “It’s beautiful out here,” said Toby, stepping out of his car and kissing her on the cheek.

  “It certainly is. This is Seamus,” she said, introducing the two men.

  “I understand you and Summer used to be roommates.”

  “The best roommate I ever had.”

  “I know that,” said Seamus, putting his hand around Summer’s waist and pulling her closer to him.

  “This is a very interesting home. How do you keep it so clean?” asked Toby, looking up at the panels of glass.

  “My father built it, and he used some sort of thermal glass that doesn’t need much maintenance. It keeps us warm in the winter and cool in the summer. Wish I could tell you more about it, but I’m an artist and these technical things don’t really interest me. Let’s go inside.”

  “Just as interesting on the inside,” Toby said, looking around.

  “Would you care for a glass of wine?” Seamus asked.

  “Yes. Thank you.”

  “Red or white?”

  “Red,” said the young man, still looking around at the glass construction.<
br />
  “And you, Summer, red?” Seamus asked.

  He set off and returned with three glasses of wine.

  “Somehow I expected to see paintings hanging all over the place. Well, except for that one,” he said, looking up at the second floor.

  “Paintings make it seem too cluttered,” he said, “so I prefer to keep them upstairs. I’ll show them to you if you’re interested.”

  “I would love to see them,” Toby replied.

  Summer was dumbfounded. He was actually taking Toby into his inner sanctum to show off his work. Toby’s eyes took everything in as he climbed the stairs to the studio. The first thing he saw was the trio of paintings. Paint me Curious Bronze, Paint me Curious Blue, and Paint me Curious Red.

  “Very much in the style of Andy Warhol,” said Toby. “You’ve done a magnificent job with the portraits.”

  “You think so?” Seamus asked, his eyes also focused on the paintings.

  “Yes, your style is unique. It shows how well you know her. The lips and the eyes say a lot.”

  “I hate to break up this conversation, but if we don’t hurry we’ll be late,” said Summer.

  When they stepped onto the landing, Toby walked to the porthole and stared outside. There was still a little afternoon light left, and he gazed through the trees and into the water.

  “What a view!” he said. “Is that the ocean or a lake?”

  “It’s the ocean,” said Seamus.

  Summer picked up her purse and looked at her cell phone. She pushed a couple buttons and realized that it needed charging.

  “I’ll just plug it in here,” she said.

  “Take mine,” said Seamus.

  “No, that’s not a good idea. That phone will be ringing all evening and we won’t get a chance to catch up. Why don’t you take Toby’s number in case you need me?”

  Toby wrote his cell-phone number down and handed it to Seamus, who immediately put it in his pocket.

  “Nice guy, and handsome, too,” said Toby, waving to Seamus as they backed out of the driveway.

  “I’m the luckiest girl in the world,” she said with a broad smile.