9
I found the paint I once used on a model and returned to Blake's room. He stood waiting for me, naked, his c**k semi-hard.
"You're ready," I teased.
"Always, for you."
I handed him the paints, pallet and brushes and held up the drop sheet. "Where do you want this?"
"On the bed."
I laid it over the bedcovers then undressed. "I'm ready to be positioned, master painter."
He looked up from the palette. The heat in his gaze rolled over me, warming my skin, making every inch of me feel alive, desirable. It was as if he were taking in every contour, every freckle, and noting the colors, the shadows, and the places he wanted to lick or touch. I wanted him to lick and touch, but not yet. First, I wanted to know what it felt like to have the brush caress my skin.
"Lie down," he said, his v
