Brush Strokes (12 page)

“
Open your eyes, Tanya,” he
whispered, his lips brushing hers.

Her body accepted him easily, his
length gliding inch by agonizing inch forward. She managed to open
her eyes, accepting more of his drugging kisses, holding her breath
against his invasion.

“
This is the time,” he
said. She tilted her hips, opening herself to him. Taking all of
him in. “In this moment, you have to know...” He filled her
completely, stretching her wider, making a demand that she was
helpless but to give in to.

“
Sweetheart, every time I
make love to you, remember today.” Her back arched, his body
spearing her further. The depths of his eyes, the way he gazed upon
her, echoed the sentiments he would tell her. “Remember the first
day I showed you my love and know it will never be greater than it
is right now.” And at last, he was seated deep within
her.

Time passed, unending, but Joe loved
her bodily. Took her to soaring heights before pulling her out of
the reaches of heaven only seconds before resting there.

Tanya bit her lip, almost
mangled it to bleeding. Her soft cries of his name, the
whimpered
oh God
and
Joe
encouraged his ardor. When he rocketed her there only minutes
later, he allowed her to dissolve in his arms as she was swept away
on erotic highs that left her panting and boneless. Only to do it
again. And again.

She was hoarse, knew for certain his
neighbors now knew his name if they hadn’t before, but always she
craved more. When she decided she needed Joe like air, she hadn’t
realized how true that had been. He gave and gave of himself and
all he asked for in return was her.

Perspiration gathered between their
bodies and it kept them connected despite each withdrawal that made
her want to weep. But when he filled her again, thrusts that made
her breath catch, she greedily accepted him.

Joe. Her Joe. The man she loved, loved
her well.

The words stood poised on her lips and
each time she would voice them, a sigh of pleasure or a moan of
rapture escaped instead. Her thoughts whirled on each other.
Thoughts of loving and their future. Of now and of forever. Of his
skin against hers, his body inside hers. Their lives
together.

He nestled his face along her neck,
pressing soft kisses there. His breaths puffed against her skin,
his heartbeat pounding against the skin of her chest. Every time
she thought he would end their loving, would allow her to tilt
again all the way over into the reaches of orgasm, he changed
position. At times his strokes touched a tender spot that made her
cry out. On others, he used clever fingers to stimulate her clit
into screaming sensitivity. Always though, he whispered sweet
words. “I’m lost in you. My heart, my soul…hopelessly
lost.”

“
Are you? Show me…” Heart
held hostage, swollen with emotion, she pushed his boundaries.
Delved deep and conjured up some of the dominance from before.
Tanya caught his blue-eyed gaze and held it. “Make me come again,
Joe.”

Dipping down, he nipped the side of
her neck with his teeth. “I’m trying, sweetheart,” he asserted.
“God, I’m trying.”

Perspiration peppered his brow and she
had no doubt he meant it, but that didn’t satisfy her inner
dominatrix. Placing a finger beneath his chin, she ordered,
“Now.”

Joe growled low, a sound that sent a
shiver curling around her spine. He bit down again, harder, the
pain so erotic, so decadent, her pussy clenched around him in
response. His muscles strained as he reared back, tilting her
pelvis and exposing her clit. Balls still slapping against her ass,
he pinched the peak of nerves. Tanya stiffened and screamed, her
entire being located on that sinful spot.

She went blind for a split second, or
at least it seemed that way. Or maybe that’s what happened when he
sent her hurtling toward the stars. Either way, she had no
complaints.

Chest heaving, she gently drifted down
to earth and blinked back the sparks flying before her vision. A
wide grin splitting her face. Oh yeah. Her man Joe.

Definitely a keeper.

She tugged him close again, trailed
her fingers along his back, ran them through the black curls on his
chest. The air was redolent with their coupling, with the used
scent of his cologne and her floral perfume. Exhausted, the room
thick with her fading cries, her body wrung dry, she cupped his
face in her hands and looked deep into his eyes. She called forth
the courage she needed to open her heart. Found the intuition
within her that verified what he showed her, told her. Located the
words she needed to tell him. They were simple, meaningful. Life
changing.

“
Joe,” she murmured,
stroking his jaw. “My beautiful Joe…” She rolled her hips, urging
him to push himself deeper. Her grip along his shoulders tightened
to spur him to work harder. “I—I love you.”

It must have been the trigger he
needed. Tanya cried out, but Joe swallowed down the sound, small
shudders overtaking him as they kissed. His cock jerked within her,
the condom capturing the jets of his essence spilling forth. One
day she would love him without that barrier for she wanted nothing
between them when they found precious release with each other. And
she was certain there would be more moments like this. More days
and nights of touching and kissing and loving.

When at last his breathing eased, his
thrusting stilled. His mouth held on to hers, his tongue dancing
with hers. Her senses roiled with feelings she didn’t fight. She
let the waves of emotion carry her as they kissed, their bodies
fighting to stay connected for a few last seconds before forced to
separate.

How she loved this man. Her Joe. And
she already knew he loved her back. Yes, there would be more nights
like this. She could afford to let him go temporarily. He would be
back.

Joe pulled free of her, discarding the
condom before its contents spilled. By the time he returned to bed,
she’d come to a decision. This last “lesson” had been the most
important. The one, as he’d instructed, that she would remember
always.

“
Where are you going?” he
asked sleepily when she withdrew from his embrace a few minutes
later.

Tanya brought his hand to her mouth,
pressed her lips against the palm. “I’m an artist, Joe, first and
foremost. Sometimes to the point that I forget I’m a woman too.”
She laughed. “When I look at something unique, or spy the beauty of
something, my first instinct is to capture it on paper.”

She felt the weight of his gaze when
she released him, found his shirt on the floor and slipped it on.
When she returned his scrutiny, she saw the satisfaction of sex
etched onto his tired face. So typically male, he would be asleep
in no time.

“
Lay there, baby. The
muscles, the lines, the beauty of my model, I want to memorize
right now. You look like a dream.”

He yawned. “Your model,
huh?”

She
almost hesitated, almost questioned whether he could stand that she
would always see him in that light; as a beautiful man who deserved
to be immortalized. But there was understanding behind the way he
looked at her. Acceptance in the way he repositioned himself
slightly, readiness for her to sketch his form for as long as it
took to make her satisfied. He didn’t have to know it was him in
slumber she wanted to capture this time.

Her mouth curved up into a smile as
she started to walk away. “Yeah, my model. My model, my Joe.” She
glanced at him in time to see his heavy eyelids slipping closed.
She whispered, “My love.”

The End

Chapter One

I could say some sort of spell kept me
transfixed to the spot as I watched my neighbor’s son masturbate,
and it would almost be the truth.

I certainly couldn’t blame the glass of
Pinot Noir; I’d barely had a sip. Instead, I’d swirled the glass,
letting the crisp evening air infuse into the rich liquid. This
habit of mine, pouring a glass of wine as soon as I walked through
the door, was becoming expensive yet was an indulgence I loathed to
break. There was something to kicking off my shoes and padding
barefoot through the dimly lit house to head for the kitchen, where
I’d find comfort in a bottle.

Tonight I’d decided to head outdoors. The
buttons at the top of my blouse had been loosened, the button at my
waist similarly unfastened. Needing to shake off my day, I pulled
damp air into my lungs. Rain would be coming soon. Already the
smell of grass blossomed, as if the blades reached for the heavens
in their quest to be blessed with the droplets of moisture.

Unthinking, I’d made my way onto the teak
patio, which had been built by my late husband when we’d first
moved into the two-story house. He’d been a master at woodcraft,
the deck smooth and treated beneath my toes a testament to his
skill. I moved to the banister opposite the house and set my glass
down. It still needed to breathe for a few minutes more before I
could enjoy it at its peak.

At this height, I had an amazing view into
my neighbors’ yards, but the eye-level vista wasn’t why I was here.
The twinkling of a billion stars drew my attention, coaxing good
and bad memories to rush through my mind.

We’d had so many good times here together
before he’d become sick. Friends and family tried to convince me to
leave and start over fresh elsewhere, but it was because of those
memories that I stayed. I couldn’t join Patrick in death, but here,
in the house where we’d planned to start a family, I could keep his
memory alive.

My beautiful redheaded husband, with his
dancing blue eyes and pale, freckled skin. On nights like this, I
missed him the most. I ached for his touch. His kisses. Him.

Tears tracked down my face before I
recognized them for what they were. He’d been gone for six years
now, and that I would still cry for him was, intellectually,
stupid. Emotionally, understandable. No other person could complete
me the way he had. I walked through life now without purpose and
missing something I couldn’t get other people to recognize. Perhaps
the time to reacquaint myself with a therapist had returned.

After wiping away the tears, I’d reached for
my liquid courage. A small sound of appreciation rumbled from my
throat as I swallowed the burgundy wine. As the drink warmed me
through, I reluctantly pushed aside thoughts of my dead husband. He
wouldn’t want me to still mourn him. He’d told me before he passed
that he wanted me to live. He wanted to know I would find someone
else to love, someone else out there to comfort me. It hadn’t
happened, and I doubt it ever will, but for Patrick, I wouldn’t
shed another tear tonight. Tomorrow or the next day, perhaps, but
not tonight.

I don’t know how long I stood there letting
time pass. My stomach rumbled every once in a while as a gentle
reminder that dinner had not yet been consumed, but ever mindful of
that fact, I didn’t use the wine to quiet it. Tonight I just wanted
to savor the evening and the remains of my life.

Around me, the sounds of families settling
into their own evening routines mingled with the echoes of
children’s laughter, until eventually with the passing minutes, it
all faded into nothingness. Lights blinked in and out of existence
as people within the neighboring houses consumed their evening
meals or perhaps settled in for watching sitcoms. A more
well-rounded person might have taken the cue and gone inside to do
some eating or boob-tube watching of her own, but silly me, I
didn’t quite fit in with these people, even when Patrick was alive.
That we’d chosen to live in a neighborhood of young families had
made sense at the time, but now it became just a way to mark
time.

Thinking about nothing and everything, I
gave the neighborhood one last visual sweep before I would go
inside to find something to nibble on. Perhaps enjoy some briny
olives and crisp table water crackers to go with the wine.

The people directly behind my house had
draped little white Christmas lights across their fence, lighting
up the boards in not a holiday manner but definitely one that was
festive. More like a party mood. Some of the lights had also been
hung from the branches of their orange trees, and I vaguely thought
about doing the same to my own drab yard. I hadn’t entertained
there in years, but the decoration would be nice to view on a night
like this.

The house next door didn’t need such
adornments. They’d opted to have a built-in pool added to their
backyard, and light inserted between pale blue tiles provided
enough illumination there to read by. It created an oddly ethereal
effect, but with the sound of gently lapping water, from this side
of the fence it also seemed romantic.