Becoming His Muse, Complete Set (20 page)

I’m all hot and bothered and I don’t much want to talk, but I think about my answer because I can tell he wants me to. “I guess it makes you expect things. And it makes other people expect things of you.”

He ponders this.

I sit up and remove the last of my clothing as I add, “But nobody gets everything they want. Ever.”

He gazes down at my nakedness, looking as if I’ve just given him everything he’s ever wanted.

The thing about wanting is that it never stops. And right now I want Logan naked.

“Take your pants off,” I whisper.

He smiles at my demand. “You do it.”

I oblige him. He sits back on the couch, lifting his hips to help me and as I pull his jeans and boxers to the floor his erect cock springs up, rock hard and pulsing.

“When you don’t get what you want,” he says. “You stop expecting things, and no one expects anything of you. There’s freedom in that.”

And sadness I think as I crawl between his legs, determined to give him something that he wants, that we
both
want.

I begin licking up his beautiful length. “Do you want this?” I say.

He sighs with pleasure. “Yes.”

“And this?” My tongue swirls around each of his balls.

“Yes.”

“This?” I take the head of his cock in my mouth and suck gently.

He moans his assent.

I lick him wet with my tongue so that my hand slides up and down his shaft.

“It’s not fair that I had so much while you had so little.”

“I have more than I could ever want now,” he says, moving against my hand, his fingers weaving lightly through my hair. “More than I ever expected to have. Especially this.”

He slides a finger under my chin and lifts my gaze to his. “Especially you.” His deep green eyes, hooded and shiny with pleasure, penetrate mine. I hold his gaze as I take him in my mouth again. I bat my eyelashes as I suck him like he’s a sweet lollipop. Like I’m a spoiled child with an endless supply of candy. He doesn’t look away, but something in his eyes darkens. He presses my shoulders into his lap and moves against me with more intensity. Then he stops.

“Get up here,” he says, motioning me up onto the couch beside him. Again I oblige.

“You’re a spoiled rich girl who’s barely suffered a day in her life.” He slides his hand along my back and the round curve of my backside.

He guides me over him, so that I’m on my hands and knees on the couch and he’s under me. I can’t take him into my mouth or my pussy in this position, but he can reach behind me and slide his fingers inside me, which he does. I arch my back like a cat and sigh. He slides a finger of his other hand into my mouth. I suck those fingers hungrily. He has fingers in my pussy and my mouth at the same time. I’m so aroused. I’m arching, cat-like, with pleasure in front of him. With his mouth he nips at my waist and it tickles. I adjust my arms so that I can support myself with one arm. Now, with my free hand, I reach for his cock, perfectly positioned under my undulating belly. It’s warm, soft and hard all at the same time.

I hear him
tsk
. His fingers slip from my pussy, and I feel a smack against my buttock. I jolt, sucking in a breath and I nearly bite his fingers. My hand on his cock stills. He doesn’t want me to touch him? That can’t be it.

He slides his fingers back inside me. I groan with pleasure. My tongue dances around his exploring fingers once more. And… my other hand tightens around his cock.

Smack, again. I rock forward slightly, smiling. So this is the game.

I tug even tighter, my hand working his full length. He smacks my ass harder, and this time his fingers graze the folds between my legs. I am so aroused that I can’t feel pain, or not pain the way it’s supposed to feel. This kind of pain is different. It dances with my pleasure and makes a new sensation. I want more of it. I lean way back, practically until I’m sitting on my heels, so that I can take his beautiful, dangerous cock into my mouth. I draw him deep into my throat until he moans with his own pleasure, but a moment later, he slaps my ass again. And then he moves out from under me, toppling me onto the couch, and I’m flushed and breathing heavily. I smile up at him, enjoying our game.

“Turn over,” he demands. I reposition myself on my hands and knees, giving him full access to my behind. He kneels on the floor beside the couch, kisses the outside of my thigh, and then plunges his fingers deep inside me. He curls them, tapping on that secret spot that makes my eyes roll back in my head, and then his fingers slide in and out a few times and I’m sure I’m about to come, but then his other hand comes down hard on the curve between my buttock and the back of my thigh. I tip forward with its force and my breath catches. My balance shifts from one arm to both elbows as my upper body drops lower onto the couch cushions, while my bottom arches further upwards. I still myself in this position, unsure of what will happen next but aching, inside and out, for some kind of release.

“Do you like this, Ava?” His voice has a hard edge. It’s not that I don’t like it… but…that last smack hurt.

I feel tears pricking behind my eyes though I’m not sure why. I don’t feel scared, not in my mind anyways, but my body is reacting in its own special way tonight, a way I’ve never experienced. I’m not sure what I feel.

“I think so,” I whisper. I anticipate he’s going to smack me again, but he doesn’t. I feel him move behind me, between my legs. I hear him tear open a condom. That sound arouses me even more.

But this arousal is so different, so deep. The skin of my buttocks is throbbing lightly and feels hot, so that his hands feel cool on me as he draws me back toward him, as he guides my opening to his sheathed tip. I hold my breath as I wait for it. Will he be rough or gentle? I want him so badly and I say it.

“I want you,” I whisper into the couch. “I want you inside me.” I want this like I’ve never wanted anything before. I feel him just there, a slight pressure at my pussy’s opening. I lean back to take him, but he seems to lean back at the same time, the same short distance, and so I can’t gather him to me.

“You want me inside you, Ava?”

“Yes.”

“And you always get what you want?”

What does he mean?

“Because you’re spoiled. Everyone gives you everything you want?”

“No…Only if you want—“

“—Is it my turn to get what I want?”

“Yes. It’s your turn.” But still he doesn’t enter me. After all of our foreplay, how can he maintain so much self-control? I’m tempted to crawl forward, off the couch, and then turn around and push him down and sit on him and just take the pleasure he’s denying me right now. I moan with frustration.

“And if I want to spank you a hundred times, I can do that?”

A hundred times? Oh no. He’s massaging my buttocks now, which is going to make them even more sensitive.

“If you want to,” I whisper, trying to exert my own self-control. I’ll let him do what he wants. I was the one who suggesting the spanking. I won’t let it break my will.

Or will I? If it’s what he wants…

He smacks with one hand on one cheek and then the other hand on the other cheek. It takes an effort to stay upright, but the sting is sweet, and pain a mere memory. I lean back, anticipating another blow, but wanting to keep my pussy lined up with his cock, wanting him, desperately, to plunge into me. I whimper with
that
anticipation.

I look over my shoulder, along the length of my back, and see he’s looking down at me, at all of me. He’s rock hard and pulsing, and just beyond my reach.

I feel a tear fall from my cheek. I hadn’t even noticed they’d gathered enough to fall. Logan sees the tear.

“I’m hurting you,” he whispers. His eyes soften.

“No, I’m fine. Keep going. Please.”

I’m aching for release. He doesn’t realize how much. The tears don’t matter.

He settles back on his heels. “I don’t want to hurt you, Ava.”

All I’m aware of is the distance between the two parts of us that I want to come together.

“It’s okay. I trust you.”

I lean back towards him until I am sort of sitting on his lap, with the backs of my thighs against the fronts of his. His erection pushes into the small of my back as he wraps his strong arms around me.

His hands cup my tits and then slide lower. “You’re sure?”

I nod, my breath catching as his fingers part my thighs. “Oh, yes.”

I lift up and forward slightly. He pushes himself downward until he slips between the backs of my thighs and into my extremely wet and swollen pussy. I arch to get the angle right, to let his whole length penetrate me. He’s so deep in this position, but it’s hard to move without him slipping out, so he holds his hand against the two of us. The ridge of his thumb is against my clit and his fingers hold his cock deep in my pussy. He rocks his hips slightly and I gasp as he goes even deeper than I thought possible. The skin of my stinging buttocks is so sensitive that it tingles as I rub against him. That tingling, plus the sparks going off in my clit, and the head of his cock prodding my g-spot, all make me start to tremble so much he has to hold me tight with his one arm. Until he lets me go…

I fall forward. He follows, slipping out and then driving himself back in as he mounts me from behind. My legs are pressed together, so that he rubs between my thighs first and then deep in my pussy. The weight of him presses the air from my lungs for a moment and I gasp. I hear him moan in response. He bites my shoulder as he slides and out with greater speed and determination. After my long drawn out arousal the intensity of driving desire pushes me to the cusp of coming. He slides one hand into my hair and pulls roughly as his teeth dig deeper into my shoulder again. I don’t mind the slight pain.

I am pinned under him and can only move my head a little to the side. I arch my neck, listening to his ragged, uncontrolled breath in my ear.

“Logan…” I whisper, haltingly on my out-breath as his length plunges in and out, faster and faster, setting my insides aflame. On my next in-breath, I release a high-pitched gasp. Fireworks of pleasure explode in my mind as an orgasm rockets through my body. Logan groans, drives hard for three more thrusts and then lies heavily, spent, against my back. I take small breaths, not wanting either of us to move.

“Are you all right?” he finally whispers in my ear.

There are no words for what I am right now. I’ve been blown apart and drawn back together, but some small part of me lingers in the intoxicated ethers of the union of pleasure and pain. I am more than all right. I am exquisitely alive.

My bottom is sweetly sore the next day. I walk around as if I’ve got a secret, which I do, and it’s twofold: There is the secret affair with Logan and there is the secret change I feel blossoming within me. Not only am I breaking the rules, I’m also breaking the limits of my body and mind. I feel myself changing, opening, risking more than I ever imagined.

In the weeks that follow, Logan and I can’t seem to get enough of each other. It’s as if we’re each other’s favorite food and no matter how much we eat we never get full yet always end up feeling satisfied. Until our appetites surge again.

I’m beginning to understand what it means to be his muse. His creativity is feeding off our mutual lust. But mine seems to be, too. I feel a renewed sense of inspiration. I’m excited to get to the studio to see what comes through on the canvas.

Sneaking in and out late at night through the parking door requires stealth and the sacrifice of sleep, which means I’m exhausted the mornings after, many of which are booked in the studio. My fatigue has added some looseness to my brush style. Figures and forms dance from my brush. As my paintings build in composition and structure, I feel more confident about putting together a good graduation show.

Dr. T meets with me more regularly to check on my progress for the show and to make sure I’m fulfilling all my other class requirements for graduation.

“Your paintings are coming along nicely.” He squints at a particular canvas. “Is that Jenny?”

“Sort of. She was my model for that one.”

He nods and then looks away from the naked form.

“You’re definitely developing your style, and creating a great body of work for your portfolio, which is more than I can say for some of the other senior students.”

“What do you mean?”

“Derrick and Casey won’t even show me what they’re working on. They want it secret until the show.”

I smile. “Suits their eccentricities I guess.”

“Either that or they’re not getting anything done and trying to keep
that
a secret.” He shakes his head. “I’m not sure what to make of those two.”

“They’re strange, for sure, but they’re pretty edgy artists. Maybe it’ll be a good surprise.”

“Lets hope, but I’m worried about Ronnie. He’s very behind on his sculpture pieces.”

That worries me too. I wonder if Owen’s been too much of a personal distraction.
My
personal distraction is having the opposite effect— I’m more productive— even though I’m dog-tired most of the time. In fact, I can’t suppress a yawn.

Dr. T sees it and chuckles. “Don’t worry, there’s light at the end of the tunnel, Ava. Your four year indenture is almost up.” He peruses my paintings again. “You’ve accomplished so much already and we’re only halfway through the year. I see a bright future ahead of you.”

He grins big when he says this. He’s proud of me, and it makes all the difference because my own father isn’t.

He looks concerned for a moment. “Is it true that when you graduate, you want to go to New York?”

I look down at my feet. “I want to, but my parents aren’t very supportive.”

“Yes, I’m aware of that. You’re father’s on the board here and he’s hinted that he’s hoping you’ll study something else, something “serious”. But listen, Ava. Art
is
serious. At times it’s playful but it’s serious play, the kind of serious play that has the potential to shape culture.”

“Tell that to my father.”

“When I get the chance, I will. For now, focus on making your exhibit as powerful as possible. I have a contact or two in New York. Maybe I can call in a favor and get my friend who’s a gallery owner to come up to the show. Maybe if your father could be made to see that you have a viable career ahead of you he’ll change his tune.”