Page 84 of Exposed

He lifted his mouth from my skin. “For 16 years I’ve been painting still images.” He grabbed his palette and put his palm in the center of it, smearing the paints. “I think true art is feeling your subject.” He pressed his wet palm down in the center of my chest.

I felt my heart beating rapidly against his hand.

“Every curve.” He spread the paint over my right breast. “Every dip.” He moved his hand down my stomach, leaving a trail of light blue paint. “Every scar.” His thumb gently brushed against my scar again.

His eyes locked with mine. “You’re different, Brooklyn. But you’re more beautiful than ever.”

I blinked back tears. But then I squealed as he moved forward, pressing my back against the floor.

“You know what else you should do besides touch your muse?” he whispered into my ear.

“No.”

“Taste.” He kissed down my stomach where there wasn’t paint, spreading more paint down the sides of my body with his hand. His mouth stopped between my thighs, his eyes locking with mine. His tongue slowly circled my clit.

Good God.I buried my fingers in his hair as he thrust his tongue inside of me. I’d never heard of tasting a muse before. But now I had no idea how anyone created art without doing this first. It seemed like a very important step to me.

“Do you still like when I do this?” he asked as his lips encircled my clit and he sucked hard.

“Matt,” I moaned.

“Say my name like that again.”

I laughed. “Matt.”

“No, that wasn’t it.” He moved his hands to my ass, pulling my pussy flush against his mouth. He feasted on me like he’d been starving for me for years.

“Matt,” I moaned again. God, I was so close.

“That’s better. Say it again when I make you come.”

“So cocky.”

He smiled against my skin. “Baby, all I need is 30 seconds.” His fingers dug in to my ass cheeks as he thrust his tongue even farther inside of me. He reached one hand up, palming my breast, smearing more paint across my skin.

He moved his other hand to my thigh, pressing the side of it into the paint. We were making a terrible mess, but all I could think about was his tongue slowly circling my wetness. Why had he slowed down? I just needed another few seconds of… My train of thought drifted away as his mouth moved back to my clit. He sucked hard.

Fuck.My body started to tremble. I grabbed the sides of his head to hold him in place. Okay, he won. That couldn’t have been more than twenty seconds. He knew exactly what he was doing. He still knew my body just as well as he had when we were teenagers.

And I wanted to see him. I wanted to see how he’d changed. “My turn.” I clawed at the back of his shirt.

He laughed and pulled back. He grabbed his t-shirt by the nape of its neck and pulled it off. He didn’t seem to care that he’d just ruined it with paint. “Your turn for what exactly?” He raised his eyebrow at me.

I had every intention of returning the favor. But first I wanted to explore his body. “It’s my turn to examine every inch of you.” I pushed on the middle of his chest so he’d lie down. I grabbed a tube of green paint but paused. I pulled off the rings on my finger. I didn’t want to ruin them with paint. But it felt more momentous than that as Matt stared up at me. He’d wanted me naked. I’d never felt more naked than I did now without my rings. And this felt momentous for me too. Showing him my scars. Letting him back in.

I set the rings down out of the way and squirted the paint on my hands. I moved my eyes away from his face to his muscular shoulders. “You were always strong. But you’re not a boy anymore.” I leaned forward and placed my palms on his broad shoulders. “You’re a man.” I let my hands trail down his biceps.

He just stared up at me. I was pretty sure he felt as exposed as I’d felt while he was painting me. On the canvas and on my skin.

I squirted some royal blue paint on his chest. “All of this is bigger.” I smeared the paint over his strong pecs. “It’s like armor.”

His Adam’s apple rose and fell as he stared at me.

“You’ve been at war with yourself. Not letting anyone in for 16 years. Is it selfish that I’m glad you saved your heart for me? That I’m relieved you waited for me to come back?” I ran my fingers down his six pack, stopping at the waistband of his pants. I traced his happy trail with my index finger.

“It’s only selfish if you keep tormenting me.”

I smiled down at him. “How am I tormenting you exactly?” I reached up and smeared paint across his cheek.

---