Page 50 of From the Ashes

After I’ve left handprints on both those spots, I take the stick of charcoal and start outlining under his pecs, around his dusky pink nipples, and along his cum gutters.

“I told you that you were a work of art,” I say, smudging the lines with my fingers. We’re still pressed together, and I can feel his cock throbbing against mine.

“Sign me,” Colt says, completely seriously. It’s silly, but in that moment, it feels so sexy as I use the blunted pencil, pressing down hard as I scribble my signature over his hip.

That seems to do something to him. Something feral. The second I’m finished, he knocks the charcoal from my hand, then grabs the back of my neck to crash our mouths together in a fierce kiss. With his other hand, he circles both our leaking members and starts jerking us off, hard. I moan and rut against him, and it’s clear neither of us are going to last long.

Sure enough, within minutes he starts spurting sticky white cum all over his chest, and I follow shortly after. I’m a trembling, sweaty mess, but I still have enough strength to prop myself up and swirl my fingers through the gunk, mixing it with the charcoal and painting him even more.

“Beautiful,” I utter.

He threads his fingers through my hair and caresses my scalp. “Only because you make me beautiful.”

I shake my head. “I just let it out. It was always there, Colton Ross. My sunshine.”

I want to tell him I love him, but the moment is so raw and vulnerable, I can’t bring myself to take that final step just yet.

Soon, though.

For now, I just drink in the sculpture of a man between my legs, grateful to the millions of moments that brought us here to this one. I’m glad I captured it on canvas. Is it possible that we’ll be able to look back together at that sketch in years to come?

I hope so.

CHAPTER 21

Colt

When my fatherasked me to meet him for lunch on Friday afternoon, I naïvely assumed it was to meet a new client. To be fair, I’ve been drifting through work like a zombie lately, so it’s not that much of a surprise that I didn’t analyze the circumstances more thoroughly.

Either way, when I rock up at the fancy sushi place a few minutes earlier than I thought the meeting was supposed to start, I’m confused when I see my mom wave at me from across the room. The space is relatively big and crowded, leaving the impression that she angled herself specifically so she had a clear line of sight so she could watch the front entrance.

That certainly seems like something my mom would do.

My first thought is that the lighting is artfully low, and the restaurant only has windows at the very front of the building in order to maintain the intimate atmosphere. So perhaps it’s just another lady who looks like my mom in the moody setting.

But why would that woman wave at me? I figure it must be my mom, after all, and this has to be a coincidence.ThenI quickly realize that my father is sitting next to her, so it can’t be.

What the hell is going on?

I pass a server as he lights someone’s salmon dish on fire right in front of him. The food in general smells amazing and I like the tranquil music playing quietly through the room. If my stomach hadn’t suddenly tied itself in knots, I’d have said this place has my kind of vibe.

Carefully, I weave through the tables and head around the circular bar with a huge artificial Sakura tree standing in the center of it. There are additional fake cherry blossom branches threaded through the wooden beams above my head, and lampshades hanging between them that look like paper lanterns.

Breaking up the floor space are several medium sized fish tanks, illuminated blue, each with only one or two koi carp swimming happily through all the aquatic plants. To my right are a series of colorful open parasol tops displayed flat on the wall. To my left is a small waterfall collecting into a stream that then cuts through the corner of the restaurant I’m heading to. Judging by the fact I have to use stepping stones to cross a Zen garden, then cross a little semicircular bridge over the stream to get to where my parents are seated, I’m assuming this is a VIP area.

Of course it is.

I round another fish tank, this one with two baby koi in that can only be a couple of inches long each, which reveals the other side of the table. Or rather, it reveals the third person sitting opposite my parents. Their head turns to reveal a stunningly beautiful blond woman, whose perfect smile lights up when she sees me.

Fuck.

I’ve been ambushed.

Unable to help myself, I slow as I take the last few steps. But my mom has already jumped to her feet, her arms outstretched as she greets me by clasping either side of my face.

“There he is! I was starting to worry.”

“I’m early,” I point out. She just scoffs and squeezes my shoulder—the closest I’ll ever get to a hug from her.

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