Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 75195 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75195 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
I closed my eyes, imagining her pussy.
I should have fucked you on that table.
I brought the garment to my nose and inhaled the scent of her desire.
Fuck.
Arousal surged through me like a raging fire, consuming my body with thoughts of what could have been if I had fucked her in the restaurant.
Every part of me ached for her touch, yearned for her warmth, and wanted to explore all she had offer.
But, what is she doing to me? Why is this. . .so different from the usual women?
I opened my eyes.
An empty canvas stood in front of me.
I placed the thong back in my pocket and turned to my palette.
Tonight, the colors were more vibrant.
Rummaging through all of my tubes of paint, I found the right ones and squeezed the dark browns and earthy tones onto the palette. The colors were like her skin, a rich melodic blend of hues that I longed to caress.
This will get all of the weird feelings out of me. I’ll just put them all on the canvas.
My heart beat wildly.
Hot desire consumed my entire being.
Can I truly capture her image?
The scent of oil paints mingled with the memory of her perfume, and stirred up an insane amount of hunger within my body.
Come on. Focus on the art.
Licking my lips, I dipped my brush into the paint, and as it touched the canvas, I could feel Nova’s warm presence in the room, her energy wrapping around me, exciting and terrifying in its intensity.
Fuck.
Tonight, I did not make love to the canvas.
Instead, I surrendered myself to Nova’s allure.
Why is she still in my head?
Never had I painted a woman that I dated. No one had ever inspired me to do so, but Nova. . .she was proving to be different from the others.
Each brushstroke brought me closer to her beauty.
So close, but it still does not do her the proper justice.
My heart beat faster and hotter with each passing moment until my entire being was consumed by a raging fire of passion.
On the canvas, her brown skin unfolded before my eyes.
I painted each shade, from the melody of warm sienna to the contours of rich umber and the softest hints of gold that hugged her presence.
My cock grew rock hard in my pants.
I badly yearned to be inside of Nova.
Should I forget the tests and just fuck her tomorrow?
My brush danced across the canvas.
No. Remember the original mission. Calm down.
But, how could I keep my excitement down?
Her moans from tonight echoed in my head.
I groaned and painted with fervor, each stroke a caress, each shade a discovery of her complexity and grace. With every movement of my brush, I could feel the softness of her pussy against my fingertips.
Tonight had not just been a date, it had turned into an experience that I wanted to capture on canvas and remember forever. For the first time in my life, I wanted to paint what true desire looked like and make it immortal.
I thought back to the moment she orgasmed.
That had been such beauty.
A work of art.
I began to paint her lips. The lushness of her pout. My brush moved with a will of its own, yet precise and delicate.
Yes.
I could almost feel the warmth of Nova’s breath against my skin. The sensation was overwhelming, and I felt myself getting more aroused by the second.
I shouldn’t have taken Nova back to her place. She should be in my bed right now.
Her mesmerizing eyes were next, endless wells of brown that held a universe of passion and longing. I lost myself in them, my brush pirouetting and twisting along the canvas. I tried to capture the alluring intelligence that I had seen in those depths.
God yes. That’s it.
And then her hair, those black corkscrew curls, wild and untamed. They were a storm I longed to lose myself in.
My body reacted with each stroke, a physical longing that made my hand tremble and my breath catch.
Damn it.
The room grew hot.
Sweat beaded on my brow as I painted.
Hours passed, unheeded, unnoticed, the painting growing under my touch.
When it was done, I stepped back, my body spent, my heart pounding.
Hmmm.
Of course, the painting was beautiful, a masterpiece, but it was also a torment.
Nova was there on the canvas, yet not there.
A dream.
An enigma that I was only just beginning to understand.
I could never truly capture her the way I yearned because in the end, I wanted her right in front of me, not just simply on canvas.
A strange feeling settled in my gut.
It scared me how quickly the intensity of my need for her was rising.
Can I even wait until the Masquerade?
Even more, the bigger question was why the hell she was having this effect on me? I felt like I was caught in a spell woven by Nova, and one that I was helpless to resist.