If there was one thing in this world that I truly loved, it was shopping. It didn’t matter what I was buying. Clothes, lingerie, cosmetics…even food shopping had been known to make my heart race a little with excitement.
Kicking my shoes off, I balanced my latest acquisition against the front door, dumping my shoes and coat on the racks at the bottom of the stairs. I was grinning because, as far as I was concerned, I’d bagged the bargain of the century.
Today, I’d bought my very first oil painting. I’d been on the way to meet a friend to see if he’d be up for another threesome when my girlfriend got back from China, when I’d stumbled across a house clearance.
Within five minutes of being permitted entry I’d spotted the painting. It was love at first sight. The wooden frame was over five feet high, and the picture was stunning. Lush green grass, weeping willows with their leaves dripping on to the surface of a glassy river. On the riverbank, dipping her nose into the water, was a chestnut mare, and sitting on a rug not far from her was her rider.
Reddish-brown hair a shade or two darker than the horse’s, brooding eyes, and the strangest clothing I’d ever seen in such an old painting. It looked almost modern, and completely garish. And that’s what had made it stand out to me. That and the mysterious little smile on the rider’s lips.
The grandson of the woman who’d owned the painting had huffed when I’d wondered out loud what the man on the riverbank had to be so smug about. Apparently, his grandmother used to talk about that secretive smile a lot, too, but he’d never been able to see it himself.
Taking a few steps closer, I eyed the rider’s face. Yes, there was definitely an amused tilt to those lips. In fact, he looked quite a bit more amused than he had before. The more I stared the more I felt like he was provoking me, daring me to get closer.
Just before my fingers made contact with the canvas, I squeezed my eyes close and sneezed. When I opened my eyes again something about the rider’s pose made me frown. I could have sworn his head had been inclined toward his horse, but now it was facing outward as though he’d been looking at the artist.
I reached out to touch that challenging smile. My fingers brushed the textured surface and the next thing I knew? I was lying face first on the ground.
Grass tickled my cheek. A bright red ladybird took flight when half a dozen butterflies started dancing around the clump of flowers it had been crawling on.
I found myself staring out over a gently flowing river, yellowy-green willow leaves drifting slowly by. A shuddering huff startled me to my feet. Not far to my right stood an enormous chestnut mare, her coat shining in the sun.
“What the hell?”
My words came out in a whisper. I didn’t dare speak any louder than that. What I was seeing was entirely impossible. Maybe I’d fallen and hit my head. It wouldn’t be the first time I’d tripped on the rug. I hoped I hadn’t reached out and damaged the painting. If I’d marred the handsome face of that rider…
The rider!
It took me almost a full minute to turn around, and when I finally did my breath caught in my throat. He was there. Right there on the rug, looking up at me. His head was tilted down, and because his eyes were hooded I couldn’t see their colour. But I could see a glint that made my belly feel strange.
And that haunting smile was there too. It grew wider and deeper, until I was gawping at the most dazzling grin I’d ever seen. White teeth with slightly pointed canines, dimples so deep they could be seen clearly despite the thick layer of bristles that covered the cheeks, chin and jaw of the gorgeous man in front of me.
Slowly, he lifted his head and let me see him. The next breath I took was so loud it startled the butterflies. Never had I seen such eyes! My girlfriend had green eyes, and bright ones at that, but his were unreal. They were mint green, with flecks of bluish-white that looked for all the world like diamonds when they sparkled.
Still smiling, he shifted on the rug and patted the space he’d created.
Pushing myself onto all fours, I crawled to him. Up the riverbank, across the damp grass, and straight onto the rough, woollen rug. As soon as I drew level with him, he kissed me.
It wasn’t one of those soft kisses you read about in romance novels, either. It was rough, and invasive. Commanding rather than questioning. Breathtaking.
When he started to remove my clothes, the thought that I should stop him didn’t even occur to me. I didn’t even think to ask him his name. Right or wrong, I wanted this, wanted him. I’d bought the painting because I’d thought him beautiful, and here he was, removing his gaudy bottle green jacket and unbuttoning his red shirt. It looked like silk, and it was even brighter here than it had been from the outside of the painting. The shade made me think of eating candy apples on a crisp autumn day.
Grabbing the collar and pulling his face to mine I whispered, “What’s with the red?”
“It caught your eye, didn’t it?” Such a deep voice!
“You wanted your portrait to be attention grabbing,” I said knowingly.
He shook his head, kissing my shoulder, my wrist, my stomach. “I wanted to be wanted. If someone desires me enough their lust triggers a spell that brings them to me. That is why you are here. You desire me.”
Burying my hands in all that floppy auburn hair, I widened my legs, pushing his face into my groin. His mouth was warm and wet, and his whiskers scratched my thighs.
“What if you’d found me unattractive?” My words came out on a surprised gasp. I hadn’t expected him to probe my ass with his tongue, but he did, and the way he licked and tickled felt incredible.
“There is no such thing as an unattractive human.” He looked up at me, his green irises almost swallowed up by his pupils. “Everyone has something about them that is beautiful. If it isn’t immediately apparent, you just need to look a little closer and you’ll find it. I didn’t have to look hard with you.”
His hands reached for my breasts. Most men went straight for the nipples, but not him. He grabbed handfuls of flesh and held it, squeezing, pushing my breasts toward my face. Peering up, he smiled dirtily when he saw me stretch my neck so I could lick my nipples myself.
It was almost as if he knew that’s how I liked it.
Sucking my swollen clit into his mouth, he pressed his tongue against it in soft waves, pulling my labia apart until my vagina gaped wide. I tensed, expecting the usual two finger nonsense all guys did, but it didn’t come. He just stroked the entrance with his middle fingers, pressing the very tip of one thumb into my ass.
Finding the perfect pace, he stroked and sucked, meeting my gaze and holding it. I could see his excitement and his amusement…and his knowledge. He knew I was about to come.
My lower body lifted off the rug, pushing my pussy closer to him until all I could see was his forehead. Each of my shrieks were echoed by his gruff moans, and he held on, riding out my orgasm with me.
Shifting back up my body, he positioned himself between my legs. I held my breath, willing to let him fuck me even though I didn’t really want him to.
But he didn’t. He just alternated between stroking the tip of his cock over my clit and nipping my labia together, enveloping his length so he could thrust between them.
There’s no way he could have known I disliked penetration, but his wry little grin told me he did. “How do you know?”
“I’m a pleasure painting,” he shrugged. “It’s my business to know what each of my lovers need.”
Just as I started to come again he stiffened, his cock sending jets of hot white fluid over my belly. Once he’d finished, he lay beside me, head rested on his candy apple red shirt, basking in the heat of a sun I knew would never go down.
A naughty thought came to me and he started to laugh. “Yes, if your girlfriend desires me she will be able to come here with you, and I will happily be your third. I’m glad you bought me today, Susan.”
Looking into his mint green eyes I smiled and replied, “So am I.”
This story was written for the Freshly Polished erotica competition held by Sex Blog (of Sorts). My prompt was ‘Mint Candy Apple’.
