The Canvas by Janine Hart

Paint was splattered everywhere. Places paint should never be. How could she let this happen? Again? She sat in the window and stared down at his gaudy car. ‘God. What is wrong with me.’ She thought to herself as his scent wafted through the air. He was only supposed to come buy a painting. But he never just came to buy, he always wanted to play. It’s like he timed his visits from Europe with the exact moments her creativity lulled. He came in, suave, savage, and gorgeous, and made her mind swirl. She had to admit the paintings that were created beneath their naked sweating bodies were amazing. They were her highest sellers. And this one didn’t differ.
The multicolored bold lines swirled across the huge canvas in twisted intricate swipes of passion. Hand prints marked the changes in position or domination. The rips were marks of overwhelming ecstasy and hate. She loved to hate him and he knew. She heard him stir behind her, rising and moving towards her. She stared at the creation in front of her. She smelled his cigarette before she felt his strong painted arms wrap around her waist and tighten. He lightly placed the cigarette to her lips, the cherry bright in the dawns glow. She took a long drag as he pressed his lips to the back of her neck.
“You should go.” She whispered, pushing away.
“It’s beautiful.” He moved closer again.
She turned and caught a glimpse of his perfect naked body covered in reds and hues of gold, and as always alert and ready. She caught her stare and tried to keep eye contact. He smiled and put the cigarette out on the painting.
“We can make another.” He walked towards her and picked up a paint brush.
She tried to back away but a wall was her only solace. He moved closer and slid the paint brush across her soft nipples and down her firm stomach. She felt herself get hot. She tried to cross her legs but he had already found her. He slid his hand between her legs pushing them open and lightly teasing her with his fingers. His warmth awakened her again. He lifted her into his arms, holding her against the wall as he kissed her deep and long.
“Please.” She whispered as her breathing quickened.
“No.” he smiled softly as he pushed into her and her body gave way of reason and collapsed into his. He moaned deep and hard. He pushed deeper as she tensed and dug her nail into his back, splitting open old wounds and making new. He grunted into her ear before turning her around and pushing her over the kitchen table. Paint and water flew, dripping down to the hardwood floors as he pounded into her and she surrendered.
She pushed him back and turned around. She traced down his broad chest with her paint streaked hands. He smiled his devilish grin and pulled her closer. She followed him to the ground and mounted him. She slowly slid him back into her, ecstasy washing over him again as she began to ride him slow and deep. He pulled her down harder by her hips as his eyes began to slowly close. She obliged and rode him harder and faster. He could feel himself getting closer, his pleasure getting out of his control. His back arched as she dug her nails into his broad chest as her climax began to rise.
“Jesus I think I love…” She dug her nails deeper cutting off his sentence and coming down harder on him and pulling him closer to the end.
“I think I like your dick.” She moaned as her orgasm washed over her and shivered as it rose and fell. She waited till his eyes rolled in the back of his head and she was sure he was close before she slid off of him and stood up. “Take your paintings and leave the money by the door.” She turned back and smiled at his confused look. “I told you about that word.” She began to walk into her bedroom. “See you next month.”


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