All work is 100% original and human-made.
I don't like to bring men home. It's a tedious practice; we have our fun, pass out, then in the morning, I have to kick them out. The entire process only results in annoyance once all is said and done.
I've been painting since I was a kid. It's manifested itself into a successful career, one that earned me the keys to a paint studio downtown that overlooks the entire city.
It took all of one year for me to conjure up the idea to bring my flings to my paint studio. Part of me questions if it's smart to bring men to my place of employment, but the dirtier part doesn't care to stop.
It's resulted in delicious encounters: being pressed against a wall, having my pussy devoured on the table that holds my brushes, and being fucked against that same window with the breathtaking view.
I'd argue that the passionate feelings have also created some of my best works to date. Nothing gets the creative brain flowing like ecstasy.
"So you paint."
I look up from the glass of wine entangled between my fingers. The man sitting across from me is boring. Much more boring than he let on in his Hinge profile. He's nice enough, but his personality better aligns with cardboard.
I force a smile on my red-painted lips. "I do. I own a studio a block from here."
The man nods. I don't even remember his name. Derrick? Darren? Something like that.
"When do you plan on getting a real job?" he asks.
I think it was meant to be a joke, but it made my already dry uterus practically shrivel up.
Before I could respond, the hairs on my neck stood as I felt someone behind me.
"You must not admire the arts," a deep voice echoes.
My date chokes on his drink, seemingly surprised by the intrusion. "I beg your pardon?"
A tall, male figure comes around. I let my eyes drag from his leather shoes to his pressed slacks, all the way to his tight-fitted dress shirt. When my gaze meets his, a hot flush rises on my body.
He's beautiful, like something from a painting. The man's dark hair shines in the light, his stormy blue eyes piercing my own gaze.
Those storm clouds look at my date. "Art is a real profession. You clearly can't see that, and you insulted your... friend, and you didn't even notice."
Darren's eyes widen, and his face flushes red. "Whatever, bro, you're intruding on our date. Find someone else to bug."
Before the man can respond, I chime in. "Actually, I think we're done here. I've had quite the night." I stand up, dropping a 20 on the table. "Have a good night, boys."
I bolt for the bathroom, not bothering to look behind me. Once I'm alone, I drop my stuff on the sink counter, sighing and leaning against it.
Not every date is a hit, I guess.
My mind floats back to the blue-eyed man. God, he was cute.
Maybe tonight I'd treat myself to some fantasies and my toys.
I grab my purse and exit the bathroom, suddenly eager to get home.
"I'm sorry," a familiar deep voice calls, making me stop in my tracks and turn around.
The Stormy Eyes is leaning against the wall, effortlessly sexy.
"You did kinda ruin my date," I reply, keeping my tone light.
He pushes off the wall, a smile playing on his lips. "Didn't really look like you were that into it. In fact, you looked like you were ready to fall asleep."
I laugh, pushing a lock of hair behind my ear. "Yeah, I've had better dates, that's for sure. Maybe I should be thanking you."
The man steps closer, standing close enough for me to smell his rich cologne. He leans down slightly, whispering in my ear.
"Maybe you should."
An idea pops into my head. "My paint studio is a 5-minute walk. I would love to give you a tour. Consider me showing you my unfinished works as a thanks.”
"Lead the way, Miss..."
"Eleanor," I finish. "Eleanor Blythe."
He smiles, taking my hand and giving it a soft kiss, igniting sparks where his lips make contact. "It's lovely to meet you, Eleanor. I'm Cal Preston."
Together, we walk out of the bar, the warm summer air fresh on my skin. "Do you live in the city?" I ask him.
Cal nods, walking in time with me. "Yeah, I moved here a few months ago because of a job promotion. I like it a lot, although I have a feeling I'm missing out on a lot of good spots."
My heels click softly against the pavement. "You most likely are, there are a lot of wonderful stores and restaurants. A very lively art scene as well."
"I noticed that. Have you been a painter for a while?"
"All my life," I murmur, "Ever since I was a kid. I was fortunate enough to make a decent career out of it."
He doesn't say anything, and we fall into a comfortable silence until we reach my loft. The excitement from earlier returns. I put the keys in the door, unlocking it and stepping inside, Cal close behind me.
We make our way to the elevator, and I press the top floor button. As the doors slide shut, the tension grows thick. I'm suddenly reminded how close we are, the thought making me squirm. Cal seems to notice too because a little smile forms on the edge of his mouth, his hand brushing against mine.
After what feels like the longest elevator ride of my life, the elevator stops, dinging before the doors slide open.
My studio is spacious, most of the room taken up by floor-to-ceiling windows, canvases, jars of paint, and a couch. I flip the lights on, and the room is illuminated in a soft, comfortable glow.
"How much time do you spend here?" Cal asks, taking a small lap around the area.
"A lot, more than my own apartment. I've considered moving out a few times and just living here. Save some money on rent.”
He laughs, settling near one of the large windows that overlook the city. I come up behind him, kicking my heels off beside me.
"I have a question for you," I whisper, running my hand up his back, feeling the contours of his muscles beneath his shirt.
Cal turns, looking down at me and resting his hands on my waist. "What's that, Eleanor?"
I get more excited and eager at the way he says my name. "What was the real reason you interrupted my date tonight? I don't buy that chivalrous bullshit."
His thumbs slowly begin to massage my sides. "Maybe it's because I wanted you for myself."
My thighs clench, and I stand on my toes so we're nearly eye level. "Well, now you've got me. I hope you didn't waste my night, pretty boy."
Instead of responding, Cal slams his lips against mine. In a matter of minutes, I am lifted into his arms and being carried. I yelp when he drops me on the couch, the plush leather a welcome cooling sensation from the burning under my skin.
He makes short work of the dress I'm wearing. Once it's on the floor, Cal lets his eyes roam over my smooth skin, the swell of my breasts, and the tiny lace thong doing nothing to hide my desires.
"God, you're fucking stunning," he whispers, unbuttoning his dress shirt and tossing it elsewhere.
The hard muscles of his stomach and shoulders make my mouth water. I grab him by his belt loops until he's standing right in front of me, my gaze eye-level with the growing bulge in his slacks.
I leave tender kisses on his abdomen, teasing him as I take off his belt and undo his slacks. My lips finally connect with his bulge, kissing it and leaving a long lick over his dress pants.
Cal groans, grabbing a fistful of my hair and yanking slightly. "Eleanor, if you don't suck my cock right now, I'm going to hold your head over the edge of this couch and fuck that mouth so hard you won't be able to speak tomorrow."
My pussy pulses with need. I listen to his demand, pulling down his pants and boxers in one swift motion. His cock pops out, thick and dripping precum. I open my mouth, taking the first few inches and sucking slowly.
He lets out another long groan, using the grip on my head to push more of his cock into my mouth. I gargle and slobber on every inch, gagging once the first few inches reach the back of my throat.
"Be a good girl, Eleanor," he murmurs, "take my dick like a good cocksleeve."
The foul language only spears me on. I begin to suck and swallow his cock, hollowing out my cheeks. I slurp and drool on his length until spit is running down my chin and landing on my bouncing tits.
"Brace yourself, baby," he grunts, fisting my hair harder and taking over, bucking his hips until he's fucking my throat raw.
I moan, tears running down my cheeks as his sticky balls slap against my chin. He fucks my face for another few minutes, moaning and groaning from the pleasure of using my throat.
"Shit," he curses, taking his cock out and slapping it against my lips, strings of drool clinging to him. "Sit back and spread those fucking legs."
I do as I'm told, spreading my legs until my soaked panties are on full display for him to see. Cal makes quick work of them, the sound of fabric ripping echoing throughout the air.
"You'd better buy me a new pair of those, they were expensive," I pant, looking into his eyes.
He grins, rubbing his tip up and down my slit, "I'll buy you a dozen, babe."
His cock enters my pussy in one swift motion, my back arching as it fills me. We sit in silence for a minute as I adjust.
Cal lets out a long groan, eyes squeezed shut. "You feel fucking unreal."
My stomach flutters and I laugh, wrapping my legs around his waist. "Show me how unreal I feel."
He doesn't need to be told twice, moving in and out of my pussy slowly, building a rhythm. Our moans combine in a symphony, mixing with the squelching of where our pelvises meet. The feeling is intoxicating- he is intoxicating.
"Faster," I whimper, shaky fingers reaching for my clit, rubbing it in pressurized circles.
Cal obliges, letting out grunts as he picks up his pace, until he's slamming into me with controlled rhythm. The couch shakes and squeaks from how hard he pounds into me, only adding to my desire.
"Fuck, Eleanor. You're so gorgeous. Look at how well you're taking my cock. How beautiful you look spread open."
I look down, the sight of his cock glistening with my juices making me clamp tight around him.
"That's it, baby," he moans, finding some sort of strength to pound harder into me. "I know you're close, I can feel it. I can feel you. Cum on my cock, be a good girl and cum on my cock. I'm right behind you."
His words send me over the edge, my orgasm ripping through my body. I convulse and moan as I ride it out. My eyes roll back as I feel his hot cum shoot inside me, filling my tight hole.
We sit in silence, still tightly pressed together, panting as we come down from our highs.
After a moment, Cal reaches down, kissing my lips softly.
Once he pulls away, I give him a dazed grin. "Want to go back to my place?"