by Violet Paige
I took the stairs, feeling the irresistible draw to my studio. My fingers were itching. Tingling almost.
The corner room upstairs was filled with natural light. I had a special thermostat installed to keep the room at an ideal temperature for my paints and the canvases.
Even with the sunlight streaming in, it didn’t feel like summer. It was like early spring. Cool and bright.
I moved from easel to easel. This was all I wanted to do. I wanted to paint. It was what I was trained in. I had studied in Paris and Rome. I had traveled Europe with my grandparents’ blessing because it was what their country club friend’s grandchildren did. To them it seemed young and bohemian. They didn’t take stock in how much I needed the culture and history of Europe in my art.
My own practice was a combination of all those experiences. Watching great painters. Spending nights staying up all night talking about art. And yes, some of those were incredible romances. Artists that took me to bed. Some who vowed to paint me first, but ended up painting me the morning after. I smiled, picking up a brush.
My life was on display in my strokes, but you had to know me. Know my soul to see it. I doubted anyone who looked at my work knew what was in front of them.
I positioned myself on a stool and dabbed the edge of the bristles into the blue water color paint. I brushed it on the easel, focusing on the edges the blue made as it came in contact with the paper. Everything changed when those two things came together.
The colors blurred and faded. The blues were hazier and yet more vibrant. I dipped the brush again, making another line.
I felt a part of me start to awaken. A part of me that had been sleeping ever since I was no longer McCade heiress and had become Warriors owner. I could never go back to the girl who locked herself in the studio for hours or wandered from museum to museum. From now on, I owned a team. And I was in the heart of the AFA.
At some point, the sun started to set. The hues in the room changed to orange and pink. My wine glass was empty, but I kept painting. Zeus had found me and was a sleeping wet mop in the corner on his bed.
“Vanessa? Darlin’?”
“George said she was here.”
I heard Isaac and Dylan’s voices, followed by their footsteps.
“Holy shit.” They stopped in the doorway.
I looked up. “Hi.” I smiled meekly.
“Baby, what are you doing up here?”
I rubbed my shoulder. I had a kink in my neck from sitting in the same position for hours. I hadn’t stopped for a single break.
“Working,” I answered.
“Are you drawing up plays for us?” Dylan teased, walking around the room full of easels.
They trailed from one painting to the next until they stood behind me.
I realized they were about to see what I had painted. It bared my soul.
“Is that?” Isaac crossed his arms, taking it in.
I nodded. “Do you like it?” I’d never been so nervous about anyone critiquing my work before. But the painting wasn’t only about me. It was us.
“I’m not going to pretend to know anything about art, but it’s incredible.”
They were anchored on either side of me, staring at the painting. It was everything about us. Colors of passion. Expression of desire. Tangled and tossed in the wind, just like we were. Holding on for dear life. Grasping at each other to stay grounded in the ecstasy we craved under our skin.
“I didn’t know how else to explain us,” I whispered.
Isaac swept the hair from my neck as he lowered his lips to my throat. Dylan covered the other side, dropping to his knees.
They worked quickly, undressing me. Taking turns, handing me over while one worked a piece of clothing. Their movements were coordinated. Seamless.
I was wrapped in Dylan’s arms, his mouth hovering over mine, while Isaac spread a drop cloth on the floor.
“You like my art?” I purred. Dylan pulled one knee toward him, while Isaac gripped the other side and widened my left leg in his direction.
“Tell us about it, baby,” he dared me. “We’re listening.”
My breath was already erratic. But I loved having them in my studio. I wanted them to see the painting. I wanted them to know this side of me. The real Vanessa. Not the woman who paraded in the façade of being an owner. This was me. Vulnerable and artistic. Free and creative. A woman who loved colors and vibrancy. A woman who wanted her soul to dictate what she did—not other people.
My hands lingered over my head. They kissed my legs, inching slower toward my heat.
“I-I wanted you to see how I feel…ohh…” My head rolled back and forth. Isaac had pushed me toward Dylan so I was lying on my side facing him. He placed my foot on the floor, bending my knee and dove between my legs.
“Oh shit,” I hissed as he pried my velvety lips and began lapping at my clit.
“Keep going,” Isaac groaned. “We want to hear about the painting.”
I panted. My hips jutted forward. Dylan’s tongue swirled, making a figure-eight pattern around my swollen clit. It was on fire.
“I-I always express myself in my art.” I tried to breath. “And I had to put last night on paper with paint.”
Isaac sat forward, peeling the T-shirt from his chest before he aligned his body behind mine. He kissed my ear and my neck. His hands plucked my tits, rubbing my nipples until they perked under his command.
“Maybe we should paint you,” he growled.
“Do-do you paint?” I gasped.
Dylan came up for air from between my legs. “I certainly have a creative side, darlin’.” He reached up, taking one of the paint canisters and tossing it to Isaac. Isaac quickly unscrewed the lid, dipping his finger in the blue.
I stared in disbelief as he began to coat my nipples with the watercolors. I watched the paint droplets pool on my navel.
“Fuck, she’s gorgeous.”
“Do that again,” I breathed. I was mesmerized. Hypnotized by how erotic this was.
Dylan choose another color. This time pink. He tossed the cap on the floor as he began to paint streaks inside my thighs. His fingertips grazed my skin, as I shuddered. He crossed an X over my heat and grinned wickedly.
He grabbed more colors, dividing the jars with Isaac. They were relentless. Smearing and painting. Stroking my body as if I was their canvas. I arched my back. Rocked my hips. While they watched their masterpiece come to life under their hands.
I was wild with desire. Eager with anticipation. I rolled on the floor needing their touches. Hungry for more paint. I rocked onto my knees as they painted my back. Isaac’s palm coasted over my bottom with streaks of pastel yellow.
“God, look at her, brother.” Isaac sat back on his heels.
The world floated around me. I was in a state of complete arousal. Drunk with paradise on the horizon. This was my world. My studio. And these were my guys. It might have been crazy, but I knew they were meant only for me.
“Shit, she’s a Goddess.” Dylan breathed.
I writhed between them, lost in everything they were giving me. Promising to give me.
Dylan undressed, throwing his clothes on the floor in a hurry.
I ran my hands over my nipples, feeling the paint starting to dry, leaving streaks of brilliant colors on my skin. I’d never felt as if I lived in my art. Lived in one of the paintings until now. I kneeled, facing Isaac. His mouth devoured mine, drinking in my lips.
“Oh, Vanessa.” His voice sounded broken. As if he was falling apart in my arms just as much as I was falling into his.
I was wet, soaked from Dylan’s tongue. Ripe with my own juices. I felt Dylan’s hand spread between my legs, coating my back side. I tensed for only a second when I felt him circle my ass and dip fingers inside to get me ready.
“Tonight this is mine, darlin’.”
I nodded. I leaned into his shoulder as Isaac positioned me on the floor to face him.
I was nervous. Thrilled to share something new with t
hem again tonight. I didn’t know how Dylan would be. I didn’t know if he would be gentle or lose control like Isaac did.
I wrapped my hands around Isaac’s neck to prepare for whatever blinding joy came next. He hoisted my leg around his waist, giving them both the perfect angle to enter me. One from the front. The other from the back. Theirs to share. Theirs to fuck into perfect oblivion.
I hissed when I felt their cocks begin to penetrate. They hovered, stretching and widening me.
“Oh God,” I whimpered. It was intense. More intense than last night. They were both pushing inside me at the same time.
“I’ve got you.” Isaac stared in my eyes. I spiraled in the darkness. Lost my footing in the smoldering mystery of his gaze.
I seized when Dylan slammed into my ass.
“Oh yes,” I moaned. “Dylan.”
“Fuck, your ass is so fucking tight. So hot. Damn, Vanessa.”
Isaac thrust inside me, stretching the walls of my pussy to accommodate his massive cock. They fucked me over and over. Drowning out my cries with groans and grunts of satisfaction and passion.
My nipples rubbed against Isaac’s chest. My back was slick with sweat against Dylan. Their mouths covered me in kisses like a rain storm. And their cocks were the thunder and lightning, hitting me over and over until I couldn’t keep the damn from breaking.
“Oh God,” I pleaded. I didn’t know what I wanted. My release? Theirs? An eternity of feeling like this?
Dylan had a slow steady rhythm. He was so thick and hard, I could feel every inch of him as he moved inside my ass. It was mind-blowing how good it felt to have him there this time. Both of them filled me in new ways. Surprising me. Completing me with their bodies.
The orgasm catapulted through me, sending fiery rain tearing through my veins. I thought I would be torn in two as they pumped into me. But the warmth of flames engulfed me as we burned in ecstasy.
Dylan bit my shoulder as his orgasm claimed him. He pumped deep in my ass.
“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck,” he growled.
I leaned into him, offering the depths of my pussy to Isaac. He thrust again, hilting himself so far. I thought I’d split in half. Dylan’s cock was still buried in my ass. He held my breasts in his palms while Isaac fucked me, until I saw it in his eyes.
“Vanessa,” he whispered. “Fuck.”
He shot his release inside me, before collapsing next to me.
I smiled. I’d never been happier. Even if it was only for a minute, I wanted it to stay like this forever. They were both inside me. Warm. Hot. Sexy as hell. And I had just shared my world with them.
I was tempted to sleep like this on the hard studio floor when Isaac’s eyes widened.
“Damn it. I fucked up.”
“What? What’s wrong?” I looked at him. The moment had been completely perfect.
“The condoms are still in my jean pockets.”
“Mother fucker,” Dylan sputtered.
“It’s ok. It’s ok. I’m on the pill, Isaac. It’s ok.” I was slightly startled, but I wasn’t going to let one slip up ruin tonight.
“You were so damn beautiful. I didn’t think straight. I’m sorry.”
I grabbed his arm. “It’s ok.” I leaned up to kiss him. “I’m not worried about getting pregnant. And it felt good. Too good to put something between us.” I smiled.
I was covered in paint. I had just had sex with two men. There were a lot of other things to worry about.
He kissed my forehead. “Do you know a what rock star you are? About everything?”
Dylan laughed, collecting his clothes. “Watch out, or I might marry you.” He winked.
I felt a spark of jealousy fly off Isaac’s chest. Maybe it was a slight rumble I heard. But that would have to wait. Because just then. I heard the alarm buzz. It was the front gate.
29
Isaac
Fuck. Who was at the door? I looked at Vanessa’s face and knew she was in just as much shock. I scrambled for clothes. She was covered in paint. It was in her hair, all over her boobs.
The speakers echoed in the house. “Miss Vanessa?”
“Oh shit. Oh God.” She sat forward. “It’s George at the gate.”
“Who’s here?” Dylan pulled his T-shirt on over his head.
She slammed her hand into her forehead. “I completely lost track of time. I forgot everything. Oh no. This isn’t good.” She started to search for her clothes. “Not good. Oh shit.”
I grabbed her shoulders. “Who is at the damn door? What’s going on?”
Her eyes flashed with fear. “It’s Charlie Maine. Ok? She was supposed to stop by after work and I forgot. If she sees you here…”
“Fuck.” Dylan stepped into his pants.
“Really helpful, brother.” I eyed him.
He shrugged. “Wait a minute. There’s no reason I can’t be here. What am I worried about?” He looked at me. “You, however are the problem.”
I felt the jealousy surge in my chest.
“I’ll stay up here.” I gritted my teeth. “Problem solved. Go be the damn fiancé.”
Vanessa exhaled. “You’re sure?” She looked around for the ring. I held it up to her. I had put it in the same pocket the condoms were. I just couldn’t handle fucking her with that rock on her finger.
She closed her eyes as I slipped it over her knuckle.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
“No problem. You have a TV up here somewhere? I’ll look for a movie.”
“Yes. In my bedroom. Keep the door locked.”
“Got it.”
“How am I going to explain this paint?” She looked to Dylan for an answer. There were green streaks in her hair.
He laughed. “I don’t think it’s any of Charlie Maine’s business what we do up here, darlin’.”
She raced to the intercom system and pressed the screen.
“Hi, George. Yes, please send Ms. Maine up to the house. Thank you.”
I could see it in her eyes. She was sliding back into her cocoon. Two minutes ago, I had seen who Vanessa McCade really was. She was like an angel. A beautiful woman who had more power and grace in her skin than all the Warriors dance team put together.
Now, she was reminded she couldn’t be that woman when she wanted to be. She had to fall back to her new calling—she was the Warriors’ owner. It was already changing her.
I stepped in front of her. “Wait, why is Charlie here?” It was never a good sign to have the fixer show up.
“It’s something I’ve handled. It will be fine.” She bit her lip. “As long as she doesn’t find out about you, we’ll be fine.”
She moved around me and I watched her descend the stairs with Dylan. I wanted to be that man. The one she could lean on.
I walked to Vanessa’s bedroom, locked the door, and landed on the bed with the remote in my hand.
When the hell had I turned into such a sucker for feelings? Why did I give a shit what happened? When had this happened to me? I smelled the scent of Vanessa’s shampoo on her pillows as I propped myself up to flip through the channels. She was all around me.
Fuck. She was changing me. Making me want things I never cared about before.
30
Vanessa
By the time we made it to the foyer Charlie was standing at the front door.
I opened the door and she blinked at me.
“What happened to you?”
I ran my fingers through my paint-colored hair. I tried to laugh. “I got a little carried away with a canvas.”
“I can see that.” She walked inside.
Dylan had already grabbed a beer from the fridge. He leaned on the counter, acting as if he had always belonged in that spot. He looked calm and comfortable. And with bits of paint splattered on his hands and cheeks, he looked sexier than I’d ever seen.
“Hi.” He tipped the beer toward Charlie.
“I didn’t know he was here.” She twirled toward me. “You paint too, Dylan?”
&
nbsp; He laughed. “Only if it’s with Vanessa.”
My insides were twisting like a roller coaster. It was one thing to have Charlie working through problems on my behalf—trying to save the team’s reputation. It was another, trying to hide my life from her. Trying to cover up my own scandal. I felt like I should just go ahead and confess, but there was no way I could admit I was in a relationship with two men.
It wasn’t a one-time deal. Wasn’t that what three-ways were supposed to be? A one-time sexual experience that people experimented with? A way to explore something new? Something you could blame on a wild drunken impulse.
It had gone way beyond that for me. For them. We were in something that didn’t have a name. There was no way to define wanting both of them in my bed all the time. Needing them in my day and night. I doubted Charlie Maine was the kind of woman who would understand it.
“Can I get you a beer Charlie?” Dylan asked.
“No thank you. I have plans with Linc. I just stopped by to pick up something from Vanessa.”
The safe was sitting in the hallway coat closet. I had hauled it in after our meeting.
I realized with Dylan in the kitchen, discussing its contents wasn’t going to be easy.
Charlie was waiting.
There was a small study off the foyer I never used. It might become my home office.
“Dylan, I’ll be right back.”
“Sure. Take your time, darlin’. Good to see you, Charlie.” He winked at her.
Charlie shook her head. “You too, James.”
She followed me to the coat closet. I lugged it out from under my spring jackets and wheeled it into the study.
“You two look awfully serious,” she commented.
I didn’t know how to answer her. “It’s good,” I replied.
The glass door was the only thing between Dylan and us. I wanted to keep this as confidential as possible. The secrets were mounting around me. What if the guys found out about the safe? They already hated my grandfather. Realizing he kept dirt on them would only make that hatred grow.
