The Client 7: In Which She Plays Hardball

Thanks, @ciao_amore, for yet another s.e.xy banner on the right =) xo

***

The tickling became so unbearable that I couldn't pretend to be asleep any longer. Not to mention the fact that whatever Reed was painting onto me was quickly becoming sticky.

I cracked an eyelid open and looked up at him. “When you said you wanted to paint me, I a.s.sumed I'd be, you know, a model.”

“I thought about it. I prefer you as a canvas,” came his gruff reply.

Arousal swirled in my lower belly and I opened my eyes fully, raising my head slightly to look at my naked, multi-coloured body. I felt a smile tug at the corner of my lips and dipped a finger in the smattering of colour on my right breast, bringing it to my mouth.

“Is that…caramel sauce?”

“Let's find out,” he countered, and he lowered his mouth to my breast, his tongue flicking out to capture my erect nipple. “Yep. Definitely caramel, with a vanilltopped nipple,” he murmured, moving his mouth upwards to find mine.

His kiss was gentle and his tongue barely even brushed against mine before he was pulling away, raising himself to his knees between my thighs. In the morning sunlight, the sight of the sculpture that was his body momentarily winded me. His hair looked golden, like Midas himself had touched it, and his eyes were a dazzling jade. I wrinkled my nose at that, wondering when I'd become so nauseously poetic.

My brow furrowed when Reed went back to painting my skin, an actual palette in hand, the ridiculous man. “Were you really a virgin, Reed?”

His hand froze and he gave me a guarded look. “Are you saying it wasn't…g-good for you?”

“Are you kidding me?” I looped my legs around his waist, more than aware that I was spreading myself wide open for him. “It was great. You were perfect – and that is why I'm asking.”

He gave me a crooked grin, confidence restored. “Were you expecting me to be s.h.i.+t at f.u.c.king?”

My pússy clenched at his word choice. It was so strange to be turned on by filthy words I practically heard on a daily basis but coming out of Reed's mouth – when he was naked, no less – they were panty-incinerators.

I ran my toes down his spine, smiling back at him when he quivered. “I expected...fumbling. But I guess watching p.o.r.n has its plus side. You're a natural.”

He blushed, quickly stammering out, “I'm n-not an addict, just s-so you know.”

“I didn't think so.”

“Good,” he said after a while, and he ran the tip of his brush up the length of my slit, making me release a low moan. My clít was pulsing from the feather-light touch, from whatever he'd left there.

“What was that?” I said in a whisper, my legs falling useless, flanking him on either side.

His stare was burning. “Well, you already know the russet-brown on your t.i.ts is caramel,” he said, drawing circles around my nipples with his paintbrush. The ticklish sensation was driving me crazy. “This ruby-red over here” – his paintbrush dabbed into the crimson liquid between my b.r.e.a.s.t.s – “is raspberry sauce. The gold on your stomach is... Hold on a sec.” I held my breath when his tongue swirled in the indent of my navel. His head came back up. “Mango. And maybe a little orange.”

“What about...the green?” I breathed, clenching my belly when he trailed a finger below my navel and down to my bikini line.
“The acid green right here is kiwi-flavoured sauce,” he informed me, running his brush around my pulsing clít in slow circles with his other hand. “These are the colours I most enjoy working with; the colours I could still see when I was blind. Together, they look a million times better on you – and in you.”

I was shaking with desire, my head swimming. Something garbled came out my mouth, and it took me a few seconds to decipher it as a plea for him to do something to make the ache between my legs go away.

“So tell me, my canvas, are you wet?” Reed's voice was conversational and my brain instantly went numb when he eased a finger into me, golden-flecked eyes gauging my reaction. “Yeah. Wet.” His voice was husky and those two words sent s.h.i.+vers down my spine.

“This s.h.i.+t's sticky,” I breathed, biting my lower lip when the knuckle of his finger b.u.mped against my clít. It took every bit of my strength not to move.

His finger slid out of me, drenched with my juices and something royal blue. “There's blueberry sauce all over your pússy, Lena, and I'm going to lick every drop of it away.”

I groaned. “Holy s.h.i.+t. Say that again.”

He blew out am audible breath. “I'm going to lick your pússy clean.”

Seven words, and they all sent sharp arrows of desire into my gut.

I only had a second to compute that before his hands dived beneath my a.s.s, held me fast, and lifted my pússy towards him. He lowered his mouth to me, his tongue darting out to capture the sauce. My hips jerked and in response, his fingertips dug into my skin. Hands fisting the sheets, my eyes slid shut of their own accord and all the blood in my body rushed to the tender bundle of nerves between my legs that Reed was currently drawing into his mouth.

“f.u.c.k,” I gasped, eyes flying open to catch a glimpse of this man's dirt-blonde head between my thighs. His tongue was doing dangerous things to me and his l.u.s.tful eyes were piercing mine, just watching me lose control. “Oh G.o.d, stop.”

His mouth left me and I wriggled in frustration. “What are you doing?” I sputtered.

“You just told me to stop,” he bit out, his lips glistening with my arousal. “Did I…do something wrong? D-did I –”

“Reed,” I snarled, “when I say stop, I mean don't stop, okay?”

A slow smile spread across his face. “Good to know,” he said softly before hunkering down again. His hair was tickling my lower belly once more and his tongue was fúcking me, fast and intense, while a finger worked its way in and out of me. I pushed my hips up to meet every agonising thrust. My nails were digging into my palms and sweat made the sheets beneath me cling to my skin, and when Reed's hot, wet mouth came around my c.l.i.toris, my o.r.g.a.s.m hit me so fast I was breathless.

I was positive that Reed had licked all the blue out of me.

“You're pretty good with your tongue,” I rasped once I finally remembered how to breathe. In, out, in, out, in...

Reed fixed me with a sly grin. “What can I say? Ice-cream is great practice.”

I laughed, and since when did I laugh with a guy I'd been fúcking all through the night? Come to think of it, I never shared a bed with a guy. The laughter died on my lips just as the expression on his face grew serious.

“You are so beautiful, Lena,” he said, trailing a finger down my belly. His fingertip came back orange and he rubbed it along my lower lip. My tongue darted out to lick it away.

“Pretty words don't wow me, Reed,” I let him know, although the way he was looking at me just then, like I was a G.o.ddess and a queen? I had to admit to myself, a girl could get used to being gazed at like that. “I'm not that kind of girl.”
Reed wasn't dissuaded. “I'm serious,” he insisted. “Your hair is so black and when you let it loose – like now – it looks like a waterfall of ink.”

I huffed out an exasperated breath. “You need to stop that. Right now.”

“Your eyes are so brown, so intense, and when you're coming for me, they become – I don't know – wild and s.e.xy,” he went on, completely ignoring me. “I like it better when you keep them open.”

I stared up at him in shock. I had no idea this man could be this vocal. “Anything else? Like my t.i.ts or pússy?”

He considered me for a moment. “I like kissing you. You have the softest lips. So feminine, so sweet.” His fingers glided across my lower lip. My lips parted as a soft moan escaped. “G.o.d, Lena, that sound you make.”

“You're an amazing kisser,” I heard myself breathlessly saying, “and I like it better when you don't hide your eyes.”

I could see the slow bob of his Adam's apple in his throat and when he spoke again, his voice was low. “Me, too. I wouldn't want to miss such a spectacular sight.”

I suddenly felt even more naked and that was ridiculous because what was more naked than...well, naked? I reached out to cup Reed's scarred cheek, tracing the jagged line with a finger. I had the scary, overwhelming urge to hug him when he winced, as if my touch was hurting him.

“You don't know how s.e.xy you are, Reed,” I told him, “so let me tell you.”

It was his turn to look uncomfortable. “I don't think –”

“That stutter you have? It makes me wet. Guaranteed it turns other women on. And your body? Fúcking A,” I continued, clearly on a roll. “Then there's that...innocence. I don't know how you lasted so long as a virgin in the first place but I'm glad I was your first.”

His jaw tensed. “I don't stammer as much when I'm not around you.”

“You flatter me,” I said with a wide grin. “So, tell me, why did you last so long?”

He licked his bottom lip. “You really want to know?”

I followed his tongue with my thumb. “I do.”

“I was saving myself for marriage.”

My hand dropped. “Oh. Seriously?”

He shrugged. “Maybe. Not really.” He leaned in closer, his breath tickling my ear and his arousal hard against the inside of my thigh. “I'll tell you why some other time,” he whispered, “but first, shouldn't I clean you up?”

I was suddenly reminded of the ice-cream toppings making a gaudy, erotic painting on my bare skin. It would take a lot of licking – and sucking – to get rid of it all and I was going to enjoy every second of it.

“Yeah, I think it's best you start the clean-up ASAP,” I replied, lifting myself onto the pillows behind me so I wouldn't be flat on my back. I rubbed my fingers in the raspberry sauce and, keeping my eyes on Reed, swiped them along the hard length of his shaft. He groaned. “I like blowing raspberries,” I explained, allowing him to push my hand away. For now.

His eyes raked my entire body with an intensity that felt like a touch and I felt myself grow wet again. “What is it?”I asked.

“I'm memorising you, like this. You're already a painting, Lena Anosova.”

A tiny part of me was sad that, even if he didn't know it, this was going to be my last time getting naked with him. He wasn't spouting all this bulls.h.i.+t to get in my pants. He wasn't feeding me a line he gave all the girls. He wasn't even trying to boost my occasionally-maybe-just-once-month fragile self-esteem.
He was...just saying.

“What do you want first?” I asked him, reminding him of what we both wanted. “Kiwi, maybe?”

He shook his head slowly, pus.h.i.+ng a hank of hair off his forehead. “More blueberry,” he grunted, and he moved down the bed, his mouth latching on to my clít once again.

***

It was impossible to avoid a person I was meant to be guarding but I was always up for a challenge. Like a coward, I hid under the guise of walking the expanse of the Lancaster estate, doing security checks and the like, until it was nightfall and I could peek in on Reed painting blindfolded in the bas.e.m.e.nt.

Because honestly, what was I supposed to say to him after the best s.e.x of my twenty-five years? What was I supposed to say to him after his tongue had been on every inch of my body, his eyes so reverent? Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

The truth was that I was completely floored by how badly I wished we had met under different circ.u.mstances. To be seen and revered as a person wasn't something I was used to and in this instance, Dawn wasn't the friend to call for advice.

Maybe Nina. Or Kerry. Or even Jess.

They were all happily married women who'd know what to say to me, a woman who was seriously considering turning a one-night-and-half-day stand into...well, into whatever sappy bulls.h.i.+t women turned that c.r.a.p into.

And I'm supposed to be letting Reed down easy, I thought, snorting in derision.

By my fifth patrol, I knew exactly which gra.s.sy parts of the estate needed major TLC, which side of the main building had a mildew problem and the exact coordinates of a possible snake hole. My phone rang just as I was contemplating Patrol Number Six right before sundown and I reached into the back pocket of my jeans to answer it.

Reed's number lit up my screen. I'd been there for a month now and he'd never phoned me.

My back straightened as I began to quickly make my way back into the house. All kinds of possibilities were already racing through my mind. That Wyatt Parker was smart enough to breach the security measures I'd single-handedly put in place. That Wyatt Parker was stupid enough to get Reed during the day. That he was... “Everything OK?” I asked before he could speak.

“Yeah. Sorry. I was going to find you but you've been...evasive,” he muttered.

The slight breeze outside let up once I pushed open the back door and strode into the living room. “Evasive? Nope, not me. I've just been busy doing my job. ”

“I haven't seen you since yesterday. Isn't your job, I don't know, to be around me?”

I leaned against the door, sighing. “It is. Look, I just don't know how I'm supposed to...”

My voice trailed off when Reed, dressed in a paint-stained blue T-s.h.i.+rt and faded jeans, appeared in the doorway, his phone pressed to his ear. “Supposed to act now that we've slept together?” He finished my sentence for me, eyes narrowed.

It felt stupid but I kept my phone pressed to my ear, too. “Could you maybe keep your voice down? If Margo or Alfred or – G.o.d forbid – b.i.t.c.hy Brenda caught a whiff of what's been going on, I'll be –”

“They're upstairs.”

“OK. Fine,” I said, ending the call and shoving my phone back into my pocket. “Look, I don't want you to get the wrong idea, Reed. I'm here to protect you and I can't do that if we're sleeping together every day. It was great and everything but it was a one-time thing.”

He put his phone away. “I didn't expect it to be anything else. I'm not some obsessed little boy, Lena.”

My brow furrowed. “Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh. I just wanted to let you know my brother flew in two days ago and wants to stop by for dinner,” he said. “He hates this house. Too many memories.”

“Oh.” It was good to know. There was no doubt that Nathan was in the country because Parker was out on parole and he wanted to make sure his baby brother was safe. I could respect that.

Reed arched a brow. “Since when are you a vowels-only girl out the bedroom?” he teased.

I felt my cheeks heat up. “You really want to go there?”

He held his hands up in surrender. “We're not going there again, remember?”

I gave him a small smile. “So...you're really OK with this? I mean, we can move past it and say we got it out our systems?”

“Definitely,” said Reed, flas.h.i.+ng back a smile that made me want to tell him the things I still wanted to do with him. To teach him. Or discover he already knew them...

“Great,” I mumbled at the same time his phone chirped with a text and he had to whip it out.

His eyes left mine to read it and I waited patiently while he tapped out a quick reply before looking up at me again. His face was an interesting shade of red.

“What's wrong?”

“N-N-Nathan's g-grand opening. It's t-tonight.” He inhaled deeply, counting softly. “Imo Gen. His...strip club. I have to go.”

And that meant I'd have to go. The wheels in my head were turning and all they brought were images of Nathan forcing some triple-D-breasted stripper named Iceland onto Reed, or possibly even booking a room for Iceland to have her wicked way with Reed in private if he so desired. d.a.m.n. It. I deflowered him, took his V-card like it was a lottery ticket. I sure as h.e.l.l wasn't going to loiter in the background while he got a lap dance from triple-D-breasted Iceland and possible head. Reed had turned me into a possessive high school girl. Disgusting.

“Wait a minute,” I said, folding my arms across my chest. Reed was looking at me hopefully, as if I was about to tell him he couldn't go out tonight because he had an early curfew.

“Yes?”

“Your brother named his strip club after his wife?”