man bun, aka Kevin, had asked her out.
‘Not too shabby,’ she whispered.
* * *
He was painting her. Kevin Buck. With his dark, mussed man bun and his bottomless gaze. But not on paper. Not on canvas. He was painting her. He had his tongue tucked between his teeth as he worked. Every time the slick cool smear of paint touched her skin, followed by the kiss of a red sable brush, she had to suppress a shiver. But worse than that, every stroke he laid down on her skin as he worked acted as a bellows to the heat that was growing between her legs. Dani shifted just a little and he said softly, ‘Stay still, Dani.’
The paint whirled around her nipple. Which instantly stiffened and went insane. The flesh wanting to tingle and ache all at the same time. She squeezed her thighs together and that only made it worse. Vibrant cobalt blue began to cover that small halo of flesh. He dipped, he swirled, he dipped, he swirled, and she found she couldn’t catch her breath.
‘I told you that you were spectacular,’ Kevin said, grinning. Now a small paintbrush was clamped between his white teeth. Teeth, she noticed, that were just crooked enough to be adorable and charming.
He found a larger brush, examined it and nodded as if it pleased him. She managed a small sip of air, enough to steady her buzzy head a little.
The large brush made bright streaks of cool orange paint down from just below her blushing-blue breast and towards her navel. Her stomach muscles trembled and he didn’t say a word. It was obvious she had no control over something as instinctive and primitive as that tremble.
He painted past the shallow divot of her belly button and the thick streak landed right above her mound.
Is he going to paint my pussy? … is he going to stroke that over my clit? … is he going to? … is he going to?
The words were a runaway freight train running through her mind. She bit her tongue and tried to keep her focus.
‘Your colour balance is off,’ said a voice.
They both looked up to find Chris there. She nearly died. The heat between her thighs became liquid and uncontrollable. Now he was here. Watching. Watching Kevin paint her … literally.
Kevin stopped and stared at his instructor. ‘I disagree.’
‘She should be in reds and golds, maybe a touch of copper. It matches who she is.’
‘I think this matches who she is.’
‘She looks like a clown fish.’
Kevin frowned. She said nothing. Her head whipped back and forth as if watching a tennis match. When Chris stepped forward and selected his own brush, all the air she had managed to keep in her lungs fled.
Chris took his brush and it came up crimson and spread the paint, slick and cool, around her other nipple. The lick of the brush was a trailing comet of pleasure. He took his time, face serious, brow furrowed as he painted out in ever widening circles. When her breast was nearly rimmed in red, he changed brushes and painted a trim of gold whirls. He too went and chose a larger brush, as her chest rose and fell in fits and starts from trying to breathe.
Copper gleamed thick and shimmering on the paintbrush. He started at the top of her thigh, bringing his lines up to kiss the V of her thighs. Dani’s body jerked of its own accord and for a moment their eyes met. Those blue eyes of his seemed to see right down into the flaming centre of her. The part of her that wanted, one of them, either of them, hell, both of them, to dip that brush between her thighs. To paint the part of her that screamed the most for contact.
Instead he curled his painted feathering line up her belly to meet the crimson and gold at her breast.
Dani thought they’d pushed her as far as she could go until Chris dropped his brush and squatted down in front of her. His torso facing her bare sex, his face close to her naked breasts, cloaked in nothing but thin cold layers of drying paint.
‘Your brush strokes are messy,’ he said to Kevin.
Kevin cocked his head, frowned, his samurai bun momentarily disturbed by the movement. Chris traced a large fingertip around the brush strokes that dotted Dani’s nipple. That already tight knot of flesh grew tighter still. Surely it would crack the paint, she thought wildly.
His fingertips ran along the seams of the blue that adorned her left breast. When he started to travel the trail of the screaming orange she saw white spots dance in her eyes. Inside her, everything clenched. Everything grew wetter. Everything screamed for that finger to travel all the way to its ultimate – most coveted – destination.
His fingertips licked the top of her thigh, stopping where the paint ended. His bright-blue gaze was on her again and he smiled. ‘You should paint her the way she deserves to be painted. Like the art she is.’ Then he dragged his finger down between her legs and slipped it over that swollen, hard part of her that needed his touch more than she needed air to breathe.
Dani woke tangled in her sheets, panting, her hand shoved firmly between her thighs. Her arousal, while she slept, had reached a feverish level. As the sun came up slowly, turning the light in her room from purple to periwinkle to smoky grey, she slid her trembling fingers over her clit. Abandoning that when it didn’t feel big enough, bold enough. She pushed two fingers inside herself, grinding her clit against her palm as she hooked and curled her fingers. Finally, on the brink of dying or coming, she found her clit with her other hand and with just a few gentle strokes (like the kiss of a paintbrush), she came.
‘Jesus,’ she said to the ceiling. ‘Fuck.’
* * *
‘What happened to you?’ Cheryl was leaning in her doorway, arms crossed, smirk on her face.
‘What?’ Dani finished her coffee, studying the liquid intently so as to avoid looking at her friend.
‘You look like you got slapped. Twice.’ She laughed and touched a fingertip to each of her cheeks to indicate where she meant.
Dani instantly pressed her palms to her cheeks. They were warm. Of course they were warm! She’d been sitting here trying to place a paper fucking towel order for the restrooms and instead reliving her vivid, lascivious sex dream that involved not one but two men. One of them her old friend who’d been more like a brother to her.
‘Oh.’
‘Oh? That’s it?’
‘That’s it.’
‘Did you get laid?’ Cheryl stage-whispered as she stepped inside and closed the office door.
‘No!’
‘Hmm. You sure look like you got laid.’
‘Nope.’
Cheryl kept her blue-grey eyes trained on Dani until she started to squirm. She was like an inquisitor. It was unbearable. Finally, Dani waved a hand and blurted, ‘I had a sexy dream. That’s all. I had a sex dream. I’m a teenage boy, sue me!’
Cheryl leaned against the door. Her eyes were shining in that way that meant she smelled gossip. Dirt. The goods.
‘Tell
