His hands in his pockets again, he strode over to me, to stand behind me and look at my work.
"It's not finished," I said. "I'll take it to touch it up."
"It's good," he said grudgingly. As if giving me a compliment was almost painful. "You painted me." He pointed to the canvas, but his finger didn't touch the still wet paint.
"What makes you think that's you?" I looked up at him sideways.
"I'd know that ass anywhere." He was all smug now, admiring the image of himself.
"Do I want to know how you know what your own ass looks like?" I asked.
"The gym has mirrors," was his reply.
"So you watch your ass while you work out?" I held back a laugh.
"Look at that ass." He gestured at the painting. "Can you blame me?"
"I guess not," I said. "I'm starting to think I did that part too well. Maybe I need to fix it." I reached for my brush.
He grabbed my wrist. "It's perfect. Leave it."
"Okay." I leaned back, but he still held on, his eyes on mine.
He brought my hand to his mouth and kissed my palm. "Do you know what you do to me, Kent?"
"Paint you too well?" He wasn't talking about that and we both knew it.
He moved my hand to the front of his jeans and pressed my palm there so I could feel his growing erection.
"That's what you do to me." He rubbed my hand up and down, lightly, holding me loose enough that I could pull away if I wanted to. "Are you going to be a good girl and do something about it?"
"I could paint that too," I said sweetly.
"You've decided to be a brat instead?" With his other hand, he undid the front of his jeans and pushed them down until his cock popped free. Holding my wrist more firmly, he pressed my hand to his length until I curled my fingers around it.
He rolled his hips a couple of times, thrusting into my fingers and groaning softly. "Be a good girl and suck my cock."
I looked up at him while I turned around in my chair to face him. One hand on his face, I leaned forward and wrapped mylips around him, taking him all the way into my mouth until he tapped the back of my throat.
"Yeah, just like that." He grabbed my ponytail and held my head as he slid all the way out of my mouth, then thrust back in.
"You take my cock so beautifully. Your mouth was fucking made for me."
I ran the tip of my tongue up and down his length, teasing the tip and tasting his salty pre-cum.
"Mmmm, just like that," he said breathlessly. He rolled his hips faster now, holding me in place while he vigorously fucked my mouth. "Good fucking girl. I'm going to come in your mouth and you're going to swallow every drop. Understood?"
I looked up at him and nodded.
He grunted and thrust a couple more times before pulling his cock out of my mouth.
"I changed my mind. I decided I'm in the mood to make some art." He fisted his length, pumping himself a few times before groaning, a squirt of pearly cum interjecting from his tip, onto my face and hair. He worked himself until every drop was released, then stepped back. A slow, satisfied smile crept onto his face.
"Fucking perfect."
Cum slid down the side of my face, warm and sticky, dripping off when it reached the bottom of my chin.
"Don't wipe it off." He pulled his phone out of his pocket and took a photo. He turned the device around to show me my face, white with his cum.
