Her teeth sink into the skin at the curve of my shoulder, nearly my neck. A visceral bite, down to the muscle, down to the bone. I pull her in closer, but she doesn’t recognize it at first. Thinks I’m pushing her away. She fights, fingertips digging in at my shoulder blade. Her teeth. Her nails. An invisible wire pulls tight between them, roping in my aching cock, and a groan escapes.
Daphne lets go. Her head comes up, eyes wide, as if she’s done something unforgivable. Fuck that. I snatch her wrist out of the air and put her hand back where it was. Push down harder. Cover her mouth with mine.
She makes a sound of angry relief and kisses me back. Her cunt is so close to my cock. I can feel her slick heat. I find it with my fingers. “Give it to me.”
Daphne’s thighs flex. “Take it,” she challenges.
Her hips put up a token resistance when I angle her over me. She’s holding on tight, but not as if I might drop her. As if she doesn’t want to be put down. It’s a rush of data, like seeing a thousand individual brush strokes. A glimmer of fear in her eyes. The hitch of her chest. Her soft, untouched nakedness. Every breath is electric. I move her by inches until wet flesh meets the head of my cock.
With a hiss, she lets gravity help her. One inch. It’s like we’ve never fucked before.
“That’s it, little painter? That’s all the fight you have?”
Daphne arches against the wall, taking another inch of me. “I’ll never stop,” she pants. “Never stop fighting.”
I brace one hand on the wall and hold her up with the other. I’m in it now. In the world. Nothing between me and this onslaught of sensation. I want to thrust into her like an animal, but I won’t. Lust wraps itself around my hips and tries to override me.
“Good. I like it when you battle me. I like it when you struggle.”
She sinks down another few inches. “Not. Struggling.”
“Oh, but you are, little painter. Give me more.”
“No.” Her hips circle, bucking under my hands, and she works herself down onto me. “No. I won’t. I’m not going to fuck you.”
“Don’t you dare.” She’s so close that it’s difficult to get my hand between us, difficult to stroke her clit. Difficult. Not impossible. At the first brush of my knuckle she clenches around me. More wet heat. “Don’t you dare come.”
“I won’t.”
Her body is making a liar out of her again. She’s desperate for my touch. It’s painted in her muscles every time I circle her clit. Her pussy flutters around me. Daphne takes one arm from around my neck and slaps her palm against the wall. It only brings her closer. Her hips circle. She’s like a vise. Tighter than a fist. Her eyes close, but then she opens them again. A little breath. Another one. It’s thrilling, the whiplash of her feelings. This is what I wanted to see. All her darkness, all her emotion, on her body instead of on the canvas.
On her body in addition to the canvas.
Daphne fought me, but she’s begging silently for something else.
Authority. Permission. I’m the monster in the room, and I’m the only one who can give her what she needs.
“You’re art,” I murmur, and she tips her face closer. “Nothing but canvas. Nothing but a piece in my collection. Art doesn’t fight, little painter. It does what it’s told.”
The tip of her tongue comes up to the roof of her mouth. Tell. That’s what she’s going to say, but she can’t bring herself to do it.
“Be brave,” I order. “Be good. Let me see what I paid for.”
It starts in her body, in the quick pulses of her cunt around me. Daphne’s nails hook into me. Her dark eyes stay on mine as she comes. Her heat is everywhere, hips rocking against me. The begging becomes a sound. A pleading moan. My little painter doesn’t know what she’s begging for.
I do.
“So beautiful like this, little painter. The sound of you. You’re gripping my cock so well. You’re—” A groan interrupts me. Holding in my cum feels like holding my breath. “Fucking priceless. All I want. All I’ve ever wanted.” Daphne doesn’t need my help anymore. I abandon her clit and circle her neck with my hand instead. It’s only a game. A gesture. I don’t have to force her to look back at me. She’s doing it herself. “Your body is ready to be fucked. You’ve taken me so deep already.”
She shivers at the words, panting harder. I’ve never felt a more intense pressure at my temples. One shake of her head and I’d walk away. Put her on the floor. Leave her alone. I’d be a better man than I am right now. I’d be the man she thought I was.
But Daphne uses the wall as leverage.
Not to get away.
To get closer.
Light barrels through an open door, and it’s so dangerous, to let myself go like this. My heartbeat echoes the threat. Patience is agony. The first thrust releases the tension from my head. The second blows it apart. Perhaps it’s too much for her. Tiny, sharp exhales every time I push in. The frames in my head rattle on the walls.
“Fuck.” I could fall into her eyes, into that darkness, into that refuge. “Oh, fuck.”
“No,” I think she says.
And then—
Her hand. My chin. Gripping it hard. I’m so lost in fucking her that I let her do it. What is she doing? Fuck, she feels good. But what is she doing? I search her gorgeous, luminous eyes for the answer. Daphne stares back, her chest heaving. She can’t catch her breath. Can barely hold on with her free hand.
“If you’re going to watch me, I’m going to watch you,” she pants, her words broken up by my thrusts. “No. Don’t leave.”
“Not leaving,” I grunt. I haven’t gone anywhere. I’ve been pinning her here, caging her here, all this time.
Her fingers dig into my face. “Stay.”
It’s half-plea, half-order, and I can’t bear it. Can’t bear how sweet it sounds. Can’t bear how innocent it is.
I can’t bear how much it hurts. Like a motherfucker. Like bone cracking under a fist. Like days in the dark. It hurts, to do what she’s saying, but Daphne’s turned the world inside out. Perhaps it’s only in this moment that I’m capable of it. The horrifying sensation of being witnessed passes over me like a wave. It can’t quite make contact. I’m too animal now. No capacity in my brain for complexity. There’s only the astonishing contrast of her eyes. The slick heat of her cunt. Pleasure bearing down on my hips, on my cock.
I see her. I see her. I see her.
My release takes me with such force that it momentarily blinds me. Daphne flickers out of view. When she returns, she’s shocked, too.
“Oh my god,” she whispers. “Oh my god.” I can’t look away. I’m pumping her full of cum while she knocks against the wall and looks into my soul. “Emerson.”
Another wave arrives in a heated spill. I mean to answer her but what comes out is wordless sound. Daphne’s trembling, her grip shaky now. Her breath hitches and she pulses again—yes yes yes. I pin her hard and let her ride it out. I press my lips to her shoulder. To her neck. She doesn’t try to see my face. Wind howls over the ocean, or perhaps it’s only in my head.
I last a few seconds longer before my mind rebels with shrieking discomfort. Patterns layer themselves over the wall behind Daphne. Brushstrokes. They cover her face, her neck, her tits. Frame. It needs a frame. This requires containment. A painting against a white expanse. Small enough to hold in my hands, if I wanted. Small enough to control.