Up at three with insomnia. Worked some on His Canvas. Have a teaser.
He still seemed a bit off, though. He had a strange, hunted look on his face, as though he hadn’t slept, dogged by some unrelenting compulsion. Glancing back at the images on the screen and his riveted attention to them, I could believe it.
“Some of these are pretty good,” I told him. “I mean, considering your subject matter and all.”
Next to me, he shook his head. “That’s kind of you,” he said. “But it’s not here.”
I blinked. “What’s not here?”
I felt my mouth twist. “You don’t think so? You asked me over to look at your photos as a professional. I think they’re pretty good. You have talent. And I’m admitting that grudgingly considering you didn’t decide to become an artist until yesterday.”
“Two days ago,” he corrected me, “and that was just an excuse. I asked you over to do this again.”
I could see it all in my mind as he moved the mouse down to the lower bar of his photo editor, clicked on a box, and up popped the picture of him between my legs, eyes half-closed with ecstasy as he laved my clit with his tongue.
Just the sight of it made me aching and empty for his cock, even as my face flushed with humiliation. And yet the picture I’d taken was beautiful, in a purely artistic sense. I’d captured my subject perfectly: the only thing truly in focus was Malcolm’s face. The face of a cat lapping at a bowl of cream.
I still wasn’t entirely prepared when he turned his chair and gripped my hips gently to pull me to him…
Yeaaaaaaayuh. I love this story. Definitely working hard whenever I have the chance… which is not often, since my kid’s still out of school until next Wednesday. BUT I WILL PREVAIL. Somehow.