The studio smelled of s*x and paint.
The canvas was crooked, my back had smeared red and black across it like the aftermath of a war. I lay beneath Julian, skin still trembling, his body heavy over mine but not unwelcome. I could feel him softening inside me, a slow withdrawal both physical and unbearable.
For a few seconds, neither of us moved. We just breathed.
Then he lifted himself off me, pulling out with a hiss and stepping back like something had snapped. My body clenched at the emptiness, already aching again. I sat up slowly, my limbs sore, sticky with sweat and his release. Paint stained my thighs. My breasts. My neck. Even my jaw. It was everywhere. He had ruined me, just as he said.
But God, I wanted more.
Julian didn’t look at me.
He turned away, grabbing a rag to wipe h
