Page 32 of Scoring Chance
He dropped his duffel bag on the floor and looked around the home, thinking about where she would be hiding out. A slow smile crept upon his face once he realized she was probably painting.
He removed his shoes and walked up the long staircase to the bedroom balcony where he found his love, as the music grew louder with each step and the thumping bass line seduced him. His eyes widened and swallowed a couple of times once he realized the magnificent sight before him:
Sydney was painting naked.
Her toned body swayed to the hypnotizing beat as her hands carefully finger painted the blank canvas. She was meticulous about her art, trailing her fingers above the work and around it. She pressed her body against it, creating a silhouette.
There was something just so wonderful about his Sydney – the sensuality, naiveté, and sexiness about her. She was a girly girl in many ways, spending an incredibly long time (in his mind) to get ready. When she did exit the bathroom, she embodied Old Hollywood.
She wasn’t afraid to get dirty and sweaty, often challenging Dean to keep up with her workouts. Even when her hair frizzed and she was covered in sweat, she was still his queen.
Seeing Sydney in the bask afterglow of the night, Dean envisioned their future – she would be teaching their children how to art, while he fired up some burgers on the grill. Friends and family would often spend time at their home during the summer weekends, where it would be a non-stop party.
The holidays would be full of music and knowing Sydney, she would start playing Christmas music on the dot of November 1st. They would go on a big vacation once during the year and their families would be regular attendees at the Kings games.
Now Dean just needed to be honest with her.
In the soft glow from the stars and moon above, Sydney took a sip of her Bailey’s and mouthed along the lyrics until she caught Dean’s eyes.
“Come here, bae.” She mouthed.
Dean shed his clothing and walked towards her. The cool air of Manhattan Beach greeted his muscular body as he stepped outside once again. He was thankful he decided to shower at the gym before he headed home so he could focus all of his attention on her.
He saw why Sydney loved to paint naked. It was freeing and she was simply one with God. Her soul was at ease and her face was relaxed. Her free spirit transcended above everything and all she cared was what was going to be on the canvas.
It was how he could relate to her in some form. When Dean was on the ice, all he thought about was scoring and blocking, getting into his opponents’ heads before they made one shot. They were two artists in different mediums and somehow understood each other.
Sydney held up her wine glass and Dean took a sip of the too-sweet beverage as he held onto her waist. She smelled like jasmine and peonies and her skin was lightly oiled. Incense burned from a small distance and filled the air with patchouli. “What’s this?” He motioned to the canvas.
“It’s for SydNASTY,” she mentioned, “I’m trying to show my raw sexual side.”
“That’s one of my favorite sides of you,” he kissed her neck and smoothed his hands along her body.
“Mmm,” Sydney moaned as she leaned back against her boyfriend. “I’ve been thinking about you all day.”
“You have?” Dean murmured. “And what have you thought about me?”
“How much I want to taste you,” she nodded as he cupped her breasts. They were covered in paint and it made her sexier to him.
“Ohhhh,” Dean moaned in her ear, “I love it when you taste me.”
“I love the smell, the feel of you.” Sydney nodded. “How velvety hard you are as you grow into my hands and mouth.” She turned around and stared into her lover’s eyes. They were full of heat and want. “I love how you dribble down my chin and out of the sides of my mouth. I always love to swallow you whole.”
Dean loved it when Sydney dirty talked him. It went beyond the typical porn banter. It sounded like poetry as it flowed out of her mouth. “Damn, baby.”
She slowly kneeled down and kissed Dean’s inner thighs as she held steady with them. He was lightly-shaven with a smooth patch of hair leading down to his shaft. “So beautiful, babe,” she licked the underside like it was a long lollipop and kissed the tip before inserting him whole into her inviting mouth.
Sydney relaxed her throat before taking him in more and slowly pleased him as Dean looked on. She took him so beautifully and watching her was like an art form. She actually cared about pleasing him and not like some groupie from the past who just did for bragging rights.
No, Sydney was a woman who loved sex and wasted no opportunity to get it when she could.
Dean stopped her before he was about to release and backed her up against the wet canvas, covered in multicolored paint. “Did I just ruin your art?” He asked.
“No,” her eyes softened to a light brown, “you’re about to create one with me.”
Dean felt the small churn of fire rise inside his stomach and hoisted Sydney up so she could wrap her legs around his waist as he entered her. They gasped and her heat softly convulsed around his length as they moved as one.
Against the backdrop of Manhattan Beach and paint covered their bodies, they made love – freely, without barriers or restraints. Their tongues tangled as they moaned into each other’s ears, declaring their love once again, and forever.
