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She got up, took my hand, and led me to the bed.
Sometimes we had full-blown mind-altering sex, other times, she lay back and pressed my hand to her, and expected me to service her, which I immediately did, or other times, she would lay me down on the bed and take me in her mouth, desperate to taste me.
Finally, Ivy leaned back in her chair and stretched her back.
“Right. I think the sketches are done. Now I just need to begin to paint.”
There was the familiar sound of the door with its tone. We looked at each other and our eyes bulged.
“It’s morning already?” Ivy said, zipping to her feet. “I need to shower!”
She bolted into the bathroom. I was left trying to buy her time with the guards while she showered and got dressed.
“I’ll see you later!” she said, pecking me on the cheek and joining the impatient guards standing outside.
I watched her sexy ass as it rounded a corner and disappeared from view.
I had a smile on my face that must have made me look a fool. But I didn’t care.
I was the luckiest guy in the prison and nothing was going to change that.
Beating my opponent when I knew I had her to look forward to made the fights easy. The fighter could be a skilled attacker but they were in the way of being with Ivy, so I took them out within thirty seconds. Sometimes I approached the exit gate before the klaxon even sounded.
I hustled down the tunnel to the Prize Pool and was relieved to see her waiting for me at the other end. None of the other Prizes even bothered to pose or dress up. They knew who I was going to choose.
I scooped her up in my arms and spun her around on the spot. We kissed openly. I couldn’t help but squeeze her ass. She glared at me playfully before we headed down the hallways.
Today, Ivy wore a smart dress and a hat with lace that covered part of her face. She shot me shy glances as we approached my cell. She took my hand and although the other prisoners must have been watching us, I didn’t notice.
I held the door open for her and the moment we were inside, I removed the dress from her body like she was the best present I had ever received. She actually was. We got naked and, without a word, made love.
I’d been thinking about her all day, and once we were done, the two of us took a nap as we hadn’t slept the entire previous night.
She lay across my chest and we slumbered into the early evening hours.
Then she got to work on my painting and asked which were the right shades. She turned the painting so it faced the wall. She didn’t want me seeing it until she was done, she said.
These were the happiest days of my life. I couldn’t get enough of looking at her, I couldn’t get enough of smelling her, and yes, I couldn’t get enough of fucking her.
We did it soft, we did it hard, we did it in every imaginable position and others that were new to me that she introduced, and others still that I think we might have actually invented ourselves.
“Okay,” she finally said, adding a few more finishing touches to the canvas. “I think I’m done.”
She had paint on her cheeks and it had stained the T-shirt she borrowed from me. I moved over to her.
“Can I look at it now?”
“You can look.”
I rounded the canvas as Ivy watched my expression.
I prepared myself to be blown away by it. Even if it was the most hideous piece of art I had ever seen—not that I had much to compare it to—I would have been happy because she had been the one to paint it for me.
But when I saw that beautiful painting, my jaw hit the floor.
I didn’t think I’d seen anything so incredible my entire life. The sun burst through the clouds and illuminated the leaves the way I remembered. The leaves pulled back gently as the wind ran its fingers through them. And there, in the distance, the low rows of fruit I used to run and play with my friends.
It looked nothing like the drab and dreary image clipped to the corner of it that Ivy worked from. Maybe I drew it to be so drab because to remember that memory in its full splendor would be too painful, too hard to recall.
