Canvas

by Jacob Chance

  “I’m here to take you out for a quick bite to eat. I realize you only have an hour so I was thinking we’d head over to the Marketplace.”

  “Okay, sounds great,” I say with a smile.

  He releases his hold on me and slips his aviators on, before taking my hand. We stroll along the busy sidewalk; the bright afternoon sun beats down on the top of my head. I’m glad I had the forethought to grab my sunglasses from my desk.

  “How’s your day been so far?” he asks.

  “It’s been tolerable, but it’s definitely improving now.” I squeeze his hand. It’s hard to believe something as simple as our fingers being clasped together has my stomach fluttering with anticipation.

  “I haven’t seen you in three days. I couldn’t wait a second longer.” He glances over, shining a smile at me. I can see my reflection in his glasses and I look ridiculously cheerful. “And it was now or not until tomorrow because I have a packed schedule from midafternoon until closing tonight.”

  “You work too much. All work and no play makes for no fun.”

  “I have to work a lot. The first six months of a new business can make or break it. If I want to be choosy about which painting jobs I accept, then I need to have the steady income from the studio.”

  “I understand. I don’t want you to overdo it. I worry about you.”

  “You do?” he questions.

  “I do. You need to enjoy life too.”

  “I like knowing you care enough to worry about me. I don’t know if anyone else ever has.”

  “I care more than you know, Josh.”

  He stops walking and pulls me to the side, avoiding the other pedestrians. “Thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “For admitting how you feel about me. I can tell it’s not easy for you to do.”

  I chew on my bottom lip for a moment. “No, it’s not. It’s scares the crap out of me, but the thought of being without you scares me more.”

  Cupping my cheek with his palm, he studies my face. I can’t see his eyes with his mirrored shades, but I can feel the heat of his stare on my flushed cheeks and red lips.

  “I don’t ever want to be apart from you, Elle. The last few days nearly killed me. I couldn’t concentrate at work.” His fingertips trail down my cheek and trace the shape of my jaw. “You’re all I can think about. I’m falling for you and I love everything about it.”

  Gripping his wrist with my hand, I turn my face, placing a kiss on his callused palm.

  “Come on.” He holds his hand out for me. “Let’s get you some lunch.”

  We enter the market food hall and I’m sure of where I want to go. All thoughts of the pastrami sandwich I was planning on having are forgotten as we approach my favorite thai food place.

  “I think I know what you want,” Josh mentions with a smirk.

  “I’m sure you do.” One of the advantages of dating someone who’s a close friend is we already know each other’s likes and dislikes.

  Josh orders chicken pad Thai for both of us and grabs us each a bottle of water while I scope out the surrounding area for an empty table. Finding one along the edge of the room, I gesture for him to follow me as I make my way to the table for two. This is as close to privacy as we can get for the moment.

  We sit across from one another and immediately dig into the delicious meal. I keep reminding myself to eat like a lady and not suck the noodles into my mouth like I do when I’m home alone. But then I think of how Josh and I have slurped noodles together on more than one occasion. Why should things be any different now? My next bite I suck the last two inches into my mouth noisily. He smiles at me before doing the same. I’m not sure why such a small thing has me breathing a sigh of relief, but it does. Maybe it’s because we can still be the same people we always were with each other. I don’t know what made me think there’s a need for pretense with Josh. He’s the least pretentious person I’ve ever met and one of the most easy-going ones too. Roll with the punches is a phrase which must have been coined with him in mind. Not much unnerves him. He’s solid and reliable. He’s also sexy and confident in an unassuming way; two qualities I don’t see in most of the men I meet.

  “What did you do last night? I never got a chance to ask you.” He sips from his water bottle. “By the time I was done with work, I was ready to crash. As soon as I texted you, I was out for the night.”

  “I went to dinner with my father.” I mumble before taking another bite of chicken.

  “That’s nice. I don’t think I’ve ever heard you talk about your father - or your mother for that matter.”

  “There’s not much to tell. My father is a very successful businessman and my mother is his trophy wife. She’s a former beauty queen he charmed into marrying him.” I shrug my shoulders, unenthusiastically. “Now she’s his arm candy at every gala and fundraiser they attend. Once they’re back home behind closed doors they go their separate ways. I barely speak to either one of them.”

  “How’s your relationship with him?”

  “What relationship? He only calls me when he wants me to attend some function or to pretend to be the well-behaved daughter.”

  “Did he ask anything of you, last night?” he asks, with a look of concern.

  Shit. Frowning, I stare down at my almost bare plate. I can’t tell Josh what’s expected of me, even if I have no plans of following through with what my father ordered me to do. “He wants me to go to dinner, sometime,” I answer vaguely. Keeping things vague is better than outright lying. This is what I tell myself so I won’t feel such a crushing sense of guilt, but it’s not working. I still feel it, weighing heavily on me, bearing down on me with every passing second, when I don’t confess to him exactly what my father demanded of me.

  He places his hand over mine on the table. “Hey, I didn’t mean to upset you. If you don’t want to talk about him, we won’t.”

  My gaze moves up to meet his. I lose myself in the emerald of his eyes. It’s true that green is the most calming color. Looking in his eyes, instantly soothes me. All sense of anxiety leaves and is replaced with a warm fluttering in my chest. “He’s not worth talking about and neither is my mother. I don’t see either of them more than a handful of times each year. I came to grips with what shitty parents they are a long time ago. Besides, I’d much rather hear how you’ve been. How’s work?”

  “Busy. I’m grateful things are going so well.” His thumb caresses across the skin on the back of my hand. “I’m taking part in an exclusive art competition. I doubt I stand a chance, but it’s an honor to have been asked.”

  “Joshua Dawson, how can you say you don’t have a chance. Your art is incredible.”

  “You might be a little biased.” He winks.

  “You of all people should know I’m not one to beat around the bush. If I thought your art sucked, I’d tell you.”

  “Even now?”

  “Yeah. Why would now be any different than any other time?”

  “Because you want to see me naked.” He smirks.

  “I’ve already seen you naked,” I boast, smiling.

  “Okay, well I want to see you naked.”

  “What does this have to do with me being biased about your art?”

  “Absolutely nothing. I’m just putting it out there.” He smiles and my heart lurches inside my chest.

  “If I remember correctly, I offered to get naked the other night.”

  “Yes, you did and I’m kicking myself for not taking you up on the offer too. I’m getting tired of pretending my left hand is yours.”

  “I thought you were a righty?”

  “I am, but my right hand is too strong.” He chuckles when he notices my surprised expression. “What? Didn’t expect me to tell you?”

  “Uh, no. I didn’t, but I like knowing you do. It’s hot. Can I watch, sometime?”

  “Elle, you can do whatever you want. There’s not much I wouldn’t do to you or let you do to me.”

  “Hmm, that statement opens you up
for a lot of questions.” I tap my nails on the table. “How do you feel about anal play?”

  “I’m all for fucking your ass.”

  “Uh, uh, not so fast. I’m talking about your ass.”

  “No one’s fucking my ass.”

  “I’m not talking about strapping one on. I’m talking about a finger in your ass. Yes or no?”

  “Hell no.”

  “How do you feel about a ménage scenario? Have you ever had one?”

  “Yes, I have.”

  Wait. What? “You’ve had a three way? With who?” My voice sounds shrill to my ears. Why does the thought of him being with two girls at the same time bother me?

  “It was freshman year of college with two of the girls who lived on the same floor as me. We were all drinking one night and things got a little crazy.” He studies me for a moment. “Does this surprise you that much?” he asks, eyebrows raised.

  “Yeah, I’m a little shocked. I didn’t expect this from you.” More like a lot shocked.

  “What about you?” He points his fork at me.

  “What about me?” I don’t like where this is going.

  “Have you?”

  “Yeah.”

  “When and with whom?” he questions with a frown, placing his fork on his plate.

  Raking my teeth over my bottom lip, I’m unsure of what I should say. Do I answer with the bare minimum or do I tell him the full extent of my experiences in this instance? “Daryl and Rick, junior year of college.”

  “Daryl and Rick from the football team?”

  “Yep.”

  “Who else?”

  “What do you mean who else?” I question, nervously.

  “Who else did you have one with?”

  “What makes you think I had more than one?

  “Elle, do we really need to play this game? Just tell me. Rip the band aid off, for Christ’s sake.”

  “Fine, but don’t get mad when I tell you,” I warn. I take a sip of water to soothe my dry throat. “Greg and Mitch, senior year of college.”

  “Greg and Mitch? Really?” he growls.

  “Yes.”

  “My fucking roommates. I can’t believe you slept with my friends. I’m not sure how I feel about this.”

  “Well, you were in love with my best friend and fucked her more than once so I guess you don’t really have much to complain about.”

  He looks contrite. “I guess I didn’t think about it that way.”

  “Nope, you didn’t. You were too busy judging me. I’ve never lied about my past or tried to hide it from you or anyone else, Josh.” I pull my hand out from under his and tuck my hair behind my ear. “What you see is what you get. If you can’t handle my past you should probably walk away now because I can’t erase or change it. I wouldn’t want to even if I could. I’m not ashamed of who I am.”

  “Why do you assume I want out so easily? I want you, Elle. Your past doesn’t matter to me. It’s where we go from here that’s important and I think we’re headed for great things.” He reaches across the table capturing my hand once more. “You’re not getting rid of me so easily. I’ll never be upset with you for telling me the truth. It’s lies I have a problem with.”

  “You say this now, but there’s a lot you still don’t know about me.”

  “And there’s a lot I already love about you. Have some faith, Elle.”

  Easier said than done.

  18

  Josh

  “So, what do you think?” I question, throwing my arms wide. “Not too shabby, huh?” I can’t help the proud grin, sweeping across my face.

  “I love it,” Elle says, her sparkling eyes slowly trek around the room.

  “I used to dream I’d have my own art studio, but I never imagined a room like this.” I gesture at the floor to ceiling shelves lining one wall, the large windows allowing in the perfect amount of natural light and the three easels lined up along one wall.

  “There’s so much space. It’s a great room for you to create your masterpieces in.” She walks over to peer out one of the windows next to me. “Great view,” she murmurs, her head against the glass.

  My arms wrap around her waist and I turn her to face me. “My masterpieces, huh?”

  “Yep, that’s what you paint.”

  “I love how you’re so supportive of my art and it doesn’t hurt that you’re adorable.”

  “Adorable?” she questions, with a raised eyebrow.

  “You heard me.” My hands slide down to cup her ass. “Adorably sexy.”

  “Hmm, I’m not sure I want to be adorable. Sexy on the other hand…” She winks at me.

  I squeeze her ass. “Well, you’re both.”

  “I’m also hungry. Is that an attractive quality in a girlfriend?”

  “When you say hungry are you referring to the fact that you haven’t had dinner yet or are you hungry for my cock?”

  She snorts and slaps my chest. “You know what I mean.”

  “So, you’re saying you want my cock?”

  “Josh,” she growls, staring up at me.

  Chuckling, I lean down and kiss the tip of her nose. “I’ve got the dinner situation already taken care of. Stay right here.” Walking across the room, I grab a brand-new drop cloth from a shelf. Unfolding it, I spread it out in the middle of the floor, like a blanket. “Come here,” I say, holding my hand out for her.

  Moving toward me with the grace of a model or a dancer, she’s stunning.

  “Have a seat,” I say. She catches my extended hand and I assist her to the floor. “I’ll be right back.”

  Hurrying from the room, I head to my kitchen and grab the large pizza box, two wine glasses, a corkscrew and a brand-new bottle of red wine. When I return to my studio she’s still seated on the floor, but she’s removed her heels and the button-down shirt she had on. Leaning back on her palms, her bare calves are exposed in the black skirt she wore to the office. The relaxed position pushes her tits forward, calling attention to her taut nipples that are poking through the silky material of the black tank top that hugs her torso flatteringly.

  My mouth waters and it’s not the bacon pizza that’s causing it. Swallowing over the lump in my throat, I place the box in the middle of the drop cloth and sit down next to her. I hand her the glasses to hold, while I open the bottle of wine.

  “You like wine, right?” I ask, as the cork slides out.

  “Yes, I like it a little too much sometimes.”

  Pouring some into each glass, I set the bottle aside, before opening the pizza box. I hand her some napkins, before saying, “dig in.”

  “Oh my. This looks amazing. Look at all that bacon.”

  “It’s beautiful. Speaking of masterpieces,” I say, before handing her a slice. Grabbing one of my own, I take a large bite and then moan as the combined flavors hit my taste buds.

  “Mm, this is so good. How did you know I was craving pizza?” she questions.

  “Pizza’s a safe bet with you. You’re always craving it.”

  “This is true.” She sips from her wine glass, then licks the moisture from her lower lip. Everything she does is alluring.

  We continue dinner while she fills me in on what her day was like. It’s hard for me to imagine the business side of Elle. Sure, she looks the part in her skirt and heels, but thinking of her spouting off financial jargon is extremely hot. Maybe I should let her explain the advantages of a Roth IRA. She can fill me in on which stocks are fixing to go up or anything else she thinks I should know.

  Between the two of us we manage to polish off the whole large pizza and bottle of wine. Elle sinks to her back, laying on the drop cloth, moaning. “I ate too much, but it was so good.”

  Leaning on my elbow next to her, I smile as I take in her flushed cheeks and smiling mouth. I think she’s a little buzzed from the wine. I trail my fingertips down her cheek and over the seam of her lips. She bites the tip of my index finger then soothes it with her tongue.

  “Elle,” I warn, my voice a hu
sky whisper.

  “Don’t Elle me. Get down here and kiss me.” Her eyes flash with desire and I can’t remember a single reason why we shouldn’t be together in every sense of the word.

  What am I waiting for?

  She’s finally mine and I want her more than I’ve ever wanted anything.

  I crush her lips with mine and groan when our tongues twist together. She raises her hips, brushing against my hard cock and my fingers move to undo the button and zipper on her skirt. Peeling the black material and her red panties down her legs at the same time, I throw them to the side and immediately tug my Fleetwood Mac t-shirt off. She raises up to pull her tank top over her head, leaving her in a red satin bra. Her hands raise to the clasp.

  “Let me,” I order, my fingers grip the two sides, snapping it open. My breath halts as the cups part, falling to either side, revealing the utter perfection of her rose tipped tits. “You’re so fucking beautiful, Elle. I can’t believe you’re mine.” My eyes hungrily roam over every sleek inch of her body until I can’t wait any longer to touch her. My hands cup her tits, thumbs brushing over her pebbled nipples. She moans and rocks her hips against me.

  Springing to my feet, I remove the rest of my clothes and throw them down with hers. She removes her bra while watching as I move across the room. Grabbing a few tubes of paint, I return to kneel beside her. Uncapping the tube of blue paint, I watch her face for any negative reaction. She shivers when I squeeze out a spiral of blue on her chest. I place the cap back on before picking up another tube. I repeat the process with a lighter blue and finish up with a dollop of sea green. Laying my hands over the paint, I meticulously spread it over her chest and shoulders, slicking it down her upper arms. Using my fingers to create varying patterns on her skin, I mix the colors together, working diligently. The silence in the room is punctuated by her soft gasps and sighs of pleasure. I’ve dreamed of this moment more times than I can recall. She’s my favorite subject to paint and has been for a long time. Her naked body is the ultimate canvas to work with. Her captivating curves are enough to bring me to my knees, but seeing her lying here compliant and covered in my art has me completely on edge. My blood is racing through my veins, heartbeat thundering in my ears. My control is tenuously tethered at this point and I have to remind myself to breathe.