Brushstrokes

The lake house smelled of turpentine and pine, and I couldn't stop staring at the curve of Maya's spine. She was supposed to be my model, perched on the worn velvet chaise with the afternoon light spilling gold across her shoulders, but I'd barely touched my brush in twenty minutes.

"You're not painting," she said, tilting her head. A strand of dark hair fell across her collarbone.

"I'm studying the composition."

"Bullshit." She laughed, low and knowing. "You're staring at my tits."

I set the palette down. "They're very well-lit tits."

She stood, the silk robe she wore slipping off one shoulder. "Maybe you need a closer look."

The studio floor creaked under my bare feet as I crossed to her. She smelled like sunscreen and sweat from our swim earlier, skin still warm from the sun. I didn't reach for the robe. My fingers found the knot at her waist instead, pulling it loose.

"Lena," she whispered, and it was all the permission I needed.

The robe fell. She was naked underneath, all smooth skin and sharp hipbones, her nipples already hard from the cool air. I cupped one breast, thumb brushing across the peak, and she gasped.

"Tell me what you want," I said, my mouth inches from hers.

"I want you to fuck me on that chaise." Her hands were already at the waistband of my shorts. "Right here. Where you've been staring at me like I'm dinner."

I kissed her hard, tasting mint and something sweet. Her fingers found my clit through the thin cotton of my shorts, pressing just hard enough to make my knees buckle.

"Fuck, Maya—"

"Shh." She pushed my shorts down, letting them pool at my ankles. "I've been watching you watch me for two days. I'm done waiting."

I sank onto the chaise, pulling her down with me. Her thigh slid between mine, and I ground against it, desperate for friction. She laughed against my neck.

"Eager, aren't we?"

"Cállate y bésame."

She did. Her hand slid down my stomach, fingers parting my folds, and I felt how wet I was, how embarrassingly ready. She circled my clit once, twice, and I arched into her touch.

"Please," I breathed.

«¿Por favor qué?»

"Please fuck me."

She positioned herself above me, and I felt the head of her strap-on—I'd seen it in her bag this morning, wondered about it—press against my entrance. I looked up at her, eyes wide.

"Is this okay?"

"God, yes."

She pushed in slowly, inch by inch, and I moaned, gripping the velvet beneath me. She filled me completely, stretching me in a way fingers never could, and I watched her face as she moved—focused, hungry, beautiful.

"Look at you," she whispered, starting to rock her hips. "Taking me so well."

I couldn't answer. She was hitting that spot inside me with every thrust, her rhythm steady and deep, and I was already close. She leaned down, lips brushing my ear.

"I want to watch you come on my cock."

That did it. I came with a cry, my body shuddering around her, and she kept moving through it, drawing it out until I was trembling and oversensitive.

She pulled out, and I saw the silicone glisten with my wetness. She knelt between my legs, spreading them wider.

"Now I want to taste you."

Her tongue was hot and flat against my clit, and I was so sensitive I nearly screamed. She lapped at me like I was made of honey, humming against my skin, and I felt a second orgasm building, even stronger than the first.

"Please don't stop—"

She didn't. She sucked my clit between her lips, flicking it with her tongue, and I came again, harder this time, my hips bucking off the chaise. She rode it out until I collapsed, panting.

We lay tangled together afterward, the light fading to amber. She traced patterns on my stomach.

"I should probably paint you now," I said, voice hoarse.

"Tomorrow." She kissed my shoulder. "Right now, I want you in the shower with me."

I laughed, letting her pull me up. The water was warm, and her hands were everywhere, soap-slick and teasing. I pressed her against the tile, kissing down her throat.

"My turn," I murmured.

She was already wet when I slid two fingers inside her. She moaned, head falling back against the shower wall.

"Yes, Lena. Right there."

I curled my fingers, finding that spot, and she bucked against my hand.

"I want to watch you come too."

She came with a gasp, clenching around my fingers, and I held her as she trembled.

---

Morning light streamed through the windows. I woke to the smell of coffee and the sound of Maya humming in the kitchen. She stood by the counter, wearing one of my oversized shirts, nothing else, and she smiled when she saw me.

"You're staring again."

"Can you blame me?"

She handed me a mug. "Finish the painting today. I'll model. But I'm not wearing the robe."

I took a sip, watching her over the rim. "Deal."

CATEGORIES: [Fucking at work, Artist and model, Lake house, Lesbians, Just the two of us]