4.0 out of 5 stars
PAINT THE SKY
A Rainbow Gold Review
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“Finger paints?” The image of Vinnie dipping his fingers in the soft liquid and applying it to a canvas was highly erotic. “Have you ever used them to paint a picture?” I swallowed hard. Not for the first time, I breathed in his unique scent. I longed to trail my tongue along his neck and take his lips with mine. Vinnie reached around me to take the dark blue pot, his bare arm rubbing against my torso, and his warm breath close to my ear. “No, I haven’t actually, but I’d love to paint the night sky as it looks tonight to remember you playing the violin for me.” “You want me to play again?” My voice was hoarse with desire. I swallowed deeply trying to moisten my throat. “No, I want to paint the sky on you.” His lips barely touched the side of my face, soft and warm, but sent a scolding tingle rippling through my body. “Can I?” he whispered into my ear.
I nodded once, hardly daring to move in case I scared him away. I couldn’t believe this was happening. Vinnie’s empty hand stroked up and down my chest from behind, his thumb grazing across my shirt over my nipple before reaching the buttons. One by one, he undid them, tantalizingly slowly, peppering my neck with soft sweet kisses, until my shirt hung open, my chest exposed. The pads of his fingers trailed over my skin, seeking, exploring, taking his time, painfully slow. His breath came out in loud and fast pants.
Vinnie led me across the room, pulling me by the shirt. “Lie back on the sofa for me and I’ll paint you.” As if in a dream, I settled my head against one arm of the sofa, my legs dangling over the other end, scarcely breathing now. Vinnie knelt on the floor beside me with an open pot of paint in his hand. Teasingly, he dipped his index finger into the dark blue paint as if it were cream he would lick off. His finger connected with my skin and he made short strokes across my chest, the coldness of the paint making me shiver.
Mesmerised by the closeness of his beautiful face, the view of the night sky through the window, and the picture forming upon my chest, I watched as dab after dab and stroke after stroke he built up a mix of shades, until a dark night sky with the moon and stars were there to be seen—a masterpiece, drying on the warmth of my blazing skin, a transient thing of beauty. His fingers skimmed my skin causing gooseflesh to ripple in waves down my arms and thighs. My nipples pebbled in response to his touch. And when he was done, his lips met mine in a languid kiss; how our first kiss should have been—sweet, innocent, and full of promise. He pulled away, smiling down at me. This was the beginning of something special. My heart knew it at that very moment.