The Deal by wizardtho
…Six Months Later...
I woke panting and just shy of release from the most erotic dream I had ever had. They have become more intense, more frequent since moving into his house. Again, it was of Mr. Cooper and myself.
I moaned as I pulled the other pillow over my face. It wasn't like I could release the tension with him in the house, or that I would know where to begin if I could. The last several months, my release has been my studio, so I quickly hopped out of bed. I ran to my dresser, pulling out my white tank with the built-in bra. My blue/white striped short overalls that had numerous paint splatters was next, then I quickly dressed. I took my white hair tie from my vanity before pocketing my iPod.
I actually almost ran into Mr. Cooper as I was pulling my hair up into a messy bun. He chuckled, “Do you not need more sleep? I only left your suite about two and a half hours ago.”
I stepped back as I blushed a bit, then said, “I'm sorry, Sir. I wasn't watching where I was going. I was actually coming to let you know that I would be in my studio for a bit. I had another dream.”
He looked at me curiously, then asked, “Was it a nightmare or a dream?”
I blushed and ducked my head as I stammered that it was just a dream, but I could have sworn I heard him inhaling. It was a full second, then he sighed, “Ah, I see. As long as you are not having bad dreams, there is nothing to worry about.”
I nodded, then said, “As always, I won't be able to hear you, if you try to knock on the door. That's why I was coming to inform you, Sir. I'll be listening to my iPod, so if you need me, please just come right in.”
He smiled, curling a stray hair around my ear, then said, “Have fun, Sweet Makenna.”
I padded barefoot to the studio, closing the door softly behind me, then set about getting my paints ready. There was already the perfect size canvas loaded onto the easel, plus I was told the first time I came in to paint, that everything was already pre-primed for oil. There were also several drop cloths already in place to protect the pretty wood floor. It didn't take me long to ready myself.
I was standing in front of the easel with several different brushes sticking out of my hair, my palette in one hand, my loaded brush in the other, and Augustana's 'Sweet and Low' coming from my earbuds.
I always tended to lose track of my surroundings when I sketched, so I was not surprised that the same was said for when I was painting. I couldn't tell you how many songs I had sung while I painted, or what was happening anywhere other than on the canvas. Everything just seemed to flow straight from me onto the canvas, like it was meant to be there.
I guess that's why I was surprised to see Mr. Cooper standing casually along the wall in my direct view, when I looked up from my completed painting, while I was singing 'Warm Whispers' by Missy Higgins.
He had never ventured into my studio before. My voice halted mid-word; I blushed as I pulled an earbud out to say, “I'm sorry. My singing wasn't bothering you, was it? I forget sometimes that your hearing is a lot stronger than a human's.”
He shook his head as he pushed off the wall, then wiped a smudge of paint from my cheek, “Not at all, my little artist. You have a beautiful voice, and it brightens up my nights. Your songs these last months have brought life into my empty home. I was actually coming up to see if you would like to meet a friend of mine, but didn't have the heart to disturb you. I thought just being in your sight-line would have you notice that I was in the room.”
I bit my lip, shaking my head as I winced. “I forgot to mention that. When I sketch, everything seems to just float away, except for what's going on paper. It seems to be the same when I paint, so you will actually need to get my attention, if you need anything. Have you been waiting long?”
He smiled, shook his head, then said as he wiped another smudge of paint from my jaw, “Only about five minutes, and he is in no hurry to cut short his visit.”
I sighed, “Oh, goo- wait, what? Five minutes? Oh, goodness. I shouldn't be keeping you from your guest, Sir. If you'll give me a few minutes to clean my brushes, I'll come find you right away. Should I change before I come down?”
He shook his head, “No... you look breathtaking right now... paint smudges and all. Please do not change. I am positive it will not offend our guest.”
I thought he must be crazy for calling me beautiful while I was splattered with paint, but I nodded as I said, “I'll be down just as soon as I get my brushes and palette cleaned.”
He smiled, kissed my temple, then turned to walk out the door. I hurried to clean the brushes on the easel's side stand, along with my palette, then took a damp paper towel to try to scrub my face and hands with. I just hoped that I didn't miss anything.
When that was done, I took one look at my painting, smiled, then exited the room quickly. I was still barefoot, but I didn't want to make him upset by wasting any more time, so I padded barefoot down the main stairs, making sure to not bump up against anything.
The sound of laughter directed me to the billiard room. I smiled shyly as both men looked up from their game to see me. Mr. Cooper smiled widely as he made his way to me, then lifted my hand and kissed the inside of my wrist. “Camden, this is the beautiful Makenna Cummings. Makenna, this is Camden Griffith.”
My eyes shot to Mr. Griffith, going wide with awe. I squeaked, “The owner of the Griffith Art Gallery?”
They both chuckled as Mr. Griffith said, “Yes, Little One. Do not be alarmed about your present attire in front of me. I would rather see the proof of you enjoying what I picked for you. Were the paints to your liking?”
I shook my head to clear it, then nodded. “Oh, yes, Sir. I didn't know it was you specifically that helped, but it's like they are made for just me. The creamy texture and amount of pigment are such a pleasure to work with. That's actually why it took so long for me to come downstairs. I was cleaning up from finishing another painting. The whole studio is more than I could have wished for.”
He smiled, “Then I did well in choosing for you, based on what Jackson told me. Would you mind me seeing the final result? I wasn't here when the room was put together.”
I blushed at that, then looked up to Mr. Cooper. “Umm... did you happen to see what was on my easel?”
He shook his head while looking at me curiously, then said, “Ah. Well, shall we give you time to remove it from your easel? Either that, or I can turn your easel so that he will not see your painting. The choice is yours.”
I thought for a good few seconds as I bit my bottom lip, but I already knew my decision. He had already seen my erotic sketches, plus I knew he would eventually see the paintings, too. “If you don't mind him seeing, then I guess he can see the studio now. I'll never get rid of it, but it might be good to get a professional's opinion of my work. I've never gotten any criticism on my sketches. Other than your painting, all the rest are in the crates I asked you for.”
He looked at me seriously, cupped my cheek, then whispered, “Are you sure? I do not want you to feel uncomfortable, Makenna.”
I nodded and squared my shoulders, “Yes, Sir. I'm positive.” He looked intently at me for a good minute, then nodded while turning to Mr. Griffith.
After Mr. Cooper fixed me a glass of wine, we all carried our glasses up the staircase off of the kitchen. I led the way into the lounge, then held my hand out to him as I reached the steps down to the studio. He took a look around, then set his sights on my painting and gasped.
Instantly, he was standing in front of it, tilting his head from side to side. “You stretched this, Jackson?”
He hummed from beside me, “I did.” He curled a stray hair behind my ear, and we waited silently for several minutes as Mr. Griffith studied my work.
I was just starting to become worried when Mr. Griffith finally stepped aside before turning to us. “Makenna, this is stunning work... truly captivating. Your strokes are sure, plus you have an excellent eye for color. I understand that the subject matter is personal to you -not for sale- but would you be willing to let me see some of your other work? In say... about a month or two?”
I looked between Mr. Cooper and Mr. Griffith several times, and said, “Seriously? It's that good?”
They both chuckled, but Mr. Griffith said seriously, “It is professional quality, Little One. I do not joke about art, nor would I ever put something in my gallery that would taint the reputation I've built.”
I took a deep breath and nodded. “I can't guarantee how many pieces I will have for you to look at, but I will do my best to have a few for you to choose from.”
Mr. Griffith smiled widely, then patted Mr. Cooper on the back as they started out of the room ahead of me. I was still looking at the painting when I thought I heard Mr. Griffith say softly, “I thought you said...”
Mr. Cooper broke in right away, whispering, “That is the amazing part. She does not look at me that way... and I tend to think that she never will. She has not once addressed me informally, plus she always hides her eyes from me when the topic becomes anything other than chaste.”
He sighed, then continued in what sounded like defeat, “I fear that her perception of me has been tainted by the way she came about living here. I long to make that hypnotizing painting become reality, but I am losing hope rapidly each time she calls me Mr. Cooper or Sir. It has been six months already, Camden.”
Oh. My. God. Did he just insinuate to his friend that he wanted us to become lovers? That's more than once that he has said as much... so could it be true?
“Makenna, will you be joining us down in the billiard room?”
I turned away from my painting, immediately knowing what to do. “Yes. May I have a few minutes to get myself cleaned up and my clothes in the washer up here before the paint dries?”
Mr. Coo- Jackson smiled at me, “Of course. Wear something comfortable, though. No formality, so feel free to wear what you like. It is your six month mark of being here, after all, so we will be celebrating.”
I smiled as I walked toward him, then asked, “What is your favorite color, if you don't mind me asking?”
He grinned widely, then his thumb brushed up my collarbone as he hummed, a smudge of blue paint on his thumb as it came away from my skin. “Oddly enough, it changes. Right now I am partial to blue.”
It didn't escape my notice that there was a lot of blue in the painting, that he had just wiped blue paint from my skin, or that I was currently wearing blue. I smiled his way, then said, “I promise to be down as soon as I'm dressed and my painting clothes are in the washer up here.”
I kissed his cheek lightly, then walked out of the studio toward my bedroom. I smiled when I got to my room, right away knowing what I was going to do. I found my medium blue/black/purple flower halter top with the low tie in the back, my dark-wash skinny jeans with the buckles on the back pockets, as well as a medium blue lace pair of boyshorts. I hurried to scrub from head to toe in the shower, then got out and got dressed.
After flipping my head over and brushing through my hair, I ran an anti-frizz serum through it with my fingers, so that it would look good as it air-dried. I grabbed my black high-heeled slides with the peep-toe and buckle over the top of my foot, slid them on, then applied a light coat of lip balm. After a quick look in the mirror, I tossed my painting clothes in the washer, then I was on my way down to the billiard room.
I was nervous the whole way there, but I couldn't deny the extreme attraction I had to Jackson. If he truly saw the possibility for something intimate between us, I wanted to find out. Granted, things would need to happen slowly enough that I wasn't scared, but I had definitely thought more than once about what it would feel like. I knew my feelings for him had grown to be more than just physical over the last six months.
I was deep in my thoughts when I reached the billiard room, and heard someone's breathing hitch. I looked up to see that Mr. Griffith was giving Jackson a cat-ate-the-canary grin. Jackson himself looked stunned, even as he slowly made his way around the pool table to me. When he stopped a few feet from me, he lifted a single index finger, twirling it as his eyes almost seemed to glow with an unknown emotion.
Whatever the emotion was, it only became more prominent when I stopped the requested full turn. He took my hands gently, then bent to breathe in my ear, “Why did I not know you had this? You look sinfully sexy right now, Makenna.”
I blushed while ducking my head to his shoulder. He mistook it, saying, “My word. I apologize for my forwardness, Makenna.”
I shook my head silently, then breathed into his chest, “I was saving it for the right occasion, and I'm just not used to hearing people compliment me like you do. Can we talk after Mr. Griffith leaves?”
He let a breath out, then raised my chin gently so he could look into my eyes. After searching them for a minute, my blush reappeared, but I didn't avert my eyes this time. He smiled widely, then nodded with a whispered, “Of course.”
The night went on with all of us laughing, shooting pool, and drinking. I could honestly say that by the time 4 am rolled around, it was one of the most memorable nights I'd ever had since moving here.
Granted, I didn't drink much, and always made sure I was nursing my glasses of wine, because I was determined to talk to Jackson after Mr. Griffith left to return home. I think he was doing the same thing, because there were several times were he was still nursing his glass when he refilled Mr. Griffith's.
When 4 am did roll around, though, Mr. Griffith's watch beeped, causing him to sigh, “Well, it looks like it's that time, my friend. You know how I dislike driving during the daylight hours.”
Jackson nodded, patting Mr. Griffith's back, “I will never fault you one bit for that, Camden. We must get together again soon... and thank you again for helping to make my little artist's birthday present so special.”
Ten minutes later, Jackson came back in through the doorway, only to place his hands on my hips from behind. “Leave those. Audrey will take care of cleaning up while we are both resting. I just left a note for her to wait until you rose for the day before starting your breakfast. Join me in the family room please?”
I leaned my head back to rest it on his shoulder as I nodded, then hummed at the feeling of him placing a tender kiss at the edge of my shoulder. I turned slowly, took both of his hands, then squeezed them gently before letting one go. He lifted my remaining hand in his as he looked into my eyes, kissing the inside of my wrist before lacing our fingers together.
After guiding me to the family room, we settled on the loveseat facing each other. My heart had picked up pace, which prompted Jackson to smile tenderly as he placed his hand over it. “Shh... there's nothing to be nervous about.”
I took a deep breath and let it out, then started softly, “You've been so nice to me... yet the only thing you've gotten from me in return is my false presumptions. At first it was thinking you only brought me here for my blood, then I was confused about what my place here would be. If not my blood, would you expect my body? I think that scared me more. I tried to make sure I didn't make you upset, because I felt sure that my first wrong move would have you acting to take one or the other.”
Jackson frowned, but I didn't let him say anything before I spoke again. “I know I was wrong. I can never tell you how sorry I am for even thinking that. I realized, though, when you woke me in the tub that second time... about a month into my being here. You had the perfect opportunity to take either, both times you that woke me, yet you didn't. Your eyes stayed connected to mine the whole time, and your hand only touched my cheek. That's when I started thinking... then the dreams became more intense.”
He smiled while bringing my hand up to kiss my palm, “Yes, the dreams. I'd like to talk to you about them, when you are willing to share the details.”
He gave me an extremely sexy smirk, so I blushed while whispering, “Umm... I think that will require time and patience on your part. That goes along with part of what I wanted to talk to you about. I've never... I'm still...”
He smiled as he cupped both of my cheeks, “I know, Makenna. I know you're untouched, because I can scent it. Your scent is so pure, with no foreign undertones, that I knew instantly. Please do not think that this changes how I feel.”
I shook my head, then took a deep breath to gather my courage. Finally, I managed to whisper out, “Do you really feel that way? What you said to Mr. Griffith... about longing to make the painting reality?”
Jackson's breath hitched slightly, then he gave me a shy smile before saying, “I did not think you were paying attention to us... but yes, I do. I will wait as long as you need me to. I promise not to rush you, ever... but could you eventually see yourself being intimate with me?”
I chuckled as I held his hands to my cheeks, then looked deep into his eyes and breathed, “I already do, Jackson. I think my dreams prove that, don't you? They've only been getting more vivid, more intimate. This last one woke me gasping.”
He raised an eyebrow at me, but I shook my head, blushing as I said, “So close, but no cigar.”
He groaned, pulling me gently to him. He kissed my shoulder, whispering his words against my skin. “That is a shame. Were you able to find release before you started the painting?”
I ducked my head into his chest, then whispered, “No... I've never...”
He groaned, then kissed along my shoulder again, “Have you never tried, or were you just never able to find release when trying?”
I whimpered slightly at the sensual feeling he was stirring in me, then let out in a heavy breath as I tried to calm myself, “Never tried. I always felt uncomfortable and chickened out. On top of that, I have no idea what to even do, and knew you would hear me if you were home.”
Despite my embarrassment at telling him these things, his sensual touch was drawing my arousal out like a moth to a flame. I don't know what made me do it, but I suddenly turned to straddle his waist, then wove my hands up into his hair as I connected my forehead to his.
My voice was barely audible to my own ears, but even I could hear how aroused he was making me as I said, “Your touch... your attention... feels incredible. Do you know what you're doing to me?”
He hummed while squeezing my hips gently, then whispered back, “Yes... heightened sense of smell. Your arousal smells utterly intoxicating, Makenna. God, how I want to kiss you.”
Throwing caution to the wind, I slowly brushed my lips against his. He hummed and slid one hand up into my hair, then gently took my bottom lip between his to suck lightly on it. I moaned softly, letting my tongue trace along his top lip. He responded by pulling me closer and following my retreating tongue with his own.
Our kiss was slow and sensual. I couldn't get enough of his unique flavor. It was sweet yet slightly spicy at the same time. There was something so erotic and tempting about it, that I couldn't help but deepen the kiss even further. He growled sexily into my mouth, causing arousal to snake up my spine in response. It had me gasping and arching into him. He moaned as his kisses trailed along my jaw to my neck, “Rock with me, my little temptress. I know you are not ready for me to touch you, but I ache to see you fall apart as you cum.”
He demonstrated slowly as he rocked my hips backward while rocking his up into me. Instantly my head snapped back as I arched into him, my moan almost indecent, “Jackson... Oh, God... don't stop.”
He nipped the juncture of my neck and shoulder as he repeated the action a few times, causing me to feel like I was going to combust from the inside out. My clothes all felt like they were uncomfortably tight, my temperature and heart rate both felt like they were in the danger zone, even as my core ached wildly for something more. I whimpered, nipping his neck as we continued to rock, “Please... I need... something. Please, Jackson... more.”
Suddenly his hand guiding my hip slid between us as he captured me in an extremely erotic kiss. As his tongue connected with mine and his length rocked against my core, his fingers rubbed tight circles over the top of my jeans just above his length. The feeling that shot through me had my hands clutching tightly to his shoulders, my head falling back as I trembled, and an ecstatic cry of his name falling from my lips.
He hummed, a deep throaty sound, then breathed across the wet trail he made against my collarbone, “Mmm... yes. Do not be afraid, My Sweet. Just let it sweep over you. Cum for me, Makenna. Jesus, you don't know how sexy you are.”
He pinched the spot his fingers had been rubbing as he swirled his hips and pressed down on mine. Suddenly I was crying out a mantra of Jackson's name as I begged for the pleasure to never end. My whole world felt like it was being tilted and spun in the best ways imaginable. I barely registered him growling my name in his release, only seconds after my own orgasm crashed over me.
When my breathing finally calmed some, my body felt like jello. I couldn't help but hum in content. Jackson chuckled, then kissed my neck and shoulder as he whispered, “You are so beautiful when you are lost in pleasure. Promise to let me know when you are ready to go any further, Makenna, because I plan on worshiping every delectable inch of you for hours.”
I suddenly felt very sleepy, but tried to answer him. “I don't think (yawwwn) that will be tonight... today... whatever.”
He chuckled, “Mmm, my Sleepy Beauty is finally ready to give in and rest?”
I hummed while nuzzling into his chest, then asked as he picked me up bridal-style, “Can you lay with me? I just want to feel close to you.”
He shook his head, “I regrettably can not... but you can lay with me in my room, if you would like. I would not be able to rest if I tried to sleep in your room, My Sweet. The master bedroom is equipped with UV sensitive shades between the window panes. They darken automatically when the sun rises. You are more than welcome to snuggle with me there.”
I yawned again, then asked, “May I borrow a shirt? I don't feel like going upstairs to get my nightgown.”
He nuzzled his cheek against mine, telling me he liked the idea of me in his clothes, then finished carrying me into his bedroom. I was barely able to stand on my own two feet, let alone change. He asked me tentatively after a few moments of me struggling, “Would you like me to help? I promise my hands will stay in respectable areas, if you choose to say yes. I dislike the sight of you struggling, Dear Heart.”
I nodded and let him help me into one of his t-shirts, which fell to the middle of my thighs. His hands did stay to themselves, which I had mixed feelings about. That doesn't mean his eyes wanted to, though. He tried to keep them focused on mine, but several times he closed his eyes to take a deep breath before refocusing them on mine.
Once in his shirt, I laid down, wiggled out of my jeans, then handed them to him to put with my top as I crawled between the sheets. He pulled his shirt over his head in the next second, then removed his jeans before going into the bathroom. He came out in a different color of boxers a few minutes later, I noticed as he crawled into bed next to me.
I rolled while pushing on his top shoulder. Once he settled on his back, I nestled my top leg between his, my arm over his stomach, and my head on his chest. We both sighed once I was settled, then I felt his hand come to rest on my hip as he placed a kiss on the top of my head. “Pleasant dreams, my sweet little angel.”