Teach Me Dirty(41)

The canvas was alive, the scenery blurred and fluid in its brilliance. The sky was twinkling with stars, yet it was heavy with the promise of the new dawn, and the world outside our real life windows darkened to orange and red and finally to dull twilight blue, but it made no difference, we were in that timeless space, where everything loses meaning, just she and I.

We finished the final strokes with a flourish and Helen was out of breath.

“Phew,” she said. “That was intense… like really intense…”

I took a step back, and the result was spectacular. “We make a good team.”

She beamed from ear to ear. “Yes. We really, really do. That was amazing.”

My jeans were splattered with paint, a smear of violet streaking down my thigh from the explosive brushwork, but it mattered not. I was smiling. Happy.

I felt so alive.

“I love it,” she said. “I really love it.”

She turned to me and she was a beautiful mess. Her hair was wild and flyaway, and her cheeks were flushed. Her old pink t-shirt was stippled with gold and red, and there was a smear of green across her top lip. I smiled at her.

“What?” she said, then patted her face. “Am I dirty?”

“Just a little.”

She wiped her face on her sleeve but it did nothing. “Better?”

I shook my head. “No.”

She looked me up and down, gave me a little giggle. “You’re not looking so pristine yourself, Mr Roberts.”

“A small price to pay for art.” I took a step towards her and saw her breath hitch. She was close, and her eyes widened as I tilted her face up to mine. “Here,” I said, “Let me.”

There was a flash of surprise across her face as I dipped my thumb in my mouth, and her lips parted as I ran it across the dry paint. She closed her eyes, and my thumb brushed her mouth, and there was no paint left to clean, but I kept cleaning it anyway, kept moving my thumb back and forth across her soft lips. My stomach tightened and knotted, and I felt heady.

Helen opened her eyes slowly, and blinked at me, and her eyes were hooded and heavy, her lashes fluttering. She moved her head, just a fraction, her eyes on me as she opened her mouth to meet my thumb. She gasped, and I felt her breath before she sucked my thumb between her lips.

I swallowed and it was dry. And I was spinning. Buckling.

“Helen…”

She kept her eyes on mine as her tongue fluttered around my thumb, and it was so delicate, so soft.

“Helen… I…”

Her fingers gripped my wrist, held my hand in position, and her teeth tightened, nipped me gently.

I pushed my thumb in deeper and she gave a delicious little shudder, and I felt her, pressed my thumb against her tongue. I wrapped a hand around her neck and held her there. Her mouth was so warm, so soft, and she made sweet little suckling noises that set me on fire. The Helen I’d known as a girl fell away from me, and there was another creature in her stead. A creature from the waters, who called me and coaxed me and demanded my soul.

She moaned as I pulled my thumb away, and was still moaning as I pressed my mouth to hers. She was ready this time, opening herself up for me and chasing my tongue with hers. I ran my hands down her body, gripped at her breasts with needy hands, and there was no wad of fabric under her shirt this time, just her, just flesh, and the hard little nubs of her nipples. She reached out for me and her fingers tangled in my hair, and she breathed and moaned for more. My hands slipped under her t-shirt, sought out her skin, and my fingers found the dainty curves of her, squeezed her until she gasped against my lips.

“Helen… are you sure?”

She nodded. “I want you… You know I do…”

I reached for her ass and hoisted her to my waist, and her legs folded around me so perfectly, her arms around my shoulders as I walked us over to the stage steps. I lay her down against the floorboards, my body covering hers, kissing her, feeling her, and she could feel me, the swell of my cock against her thigh. I tipped her head back and kissed her neck, tracing a path to her collarbone, where I pushed her top aside and sucked at her bare shoulder.

“Oh yes…” she whispered. “Please…”

I rose enough to pull her t-shirt over her head, and her creamy flesh greeted me, flawless and soft and perfect. Her tits were divine, dressed in the sweetest white cotton, delicate and innocent and tempting enough that I could feel my pulse between my legs.

“Beautiful,” I said, running my fingers across the fabric. “You are so beautiful, Helen.”

She turned her face away and she was flushed. She bit her finger and screwed her eyes shut. “I should’ve dressed… better… I have better…”

“No,” I said. “This is perfect. Helen, you are beautiful like this.”

I teased down the fabric enough to flick her nipple with my tongue, and I found her hand, guided it to the bulge in my jeans.

Her fingers stroked me through the denim, squeezed around the length of me, and she squirmed. “Oh God… I want to see…”

“Soon,” I said. I kissed my way down her belly, pulling from her grip, and my fingers worked the buttons on her jeans. She sucked in her breath as I pulled them from under her, slipping them down her thighs and off with her ballet pumps. She was wearing white, and in the light I could see the promise of her wispy hair. She was wet. Her thighs were hot and clammy. She was shaking as I hooked my fingers inside the fabric, let out a gasp as I peeled them down. She wriggled until they were around her thighs, and her face bloomed deliciously. I breathed on her, teasing her sweet * with nothing but air.