Page 27 of Tempted By the Princess

“Paint.”

When I resumed painting she whispered, “Good girl,” and lowered her chin onto my shoulder, watching me work while stroking my pussy almost lazily. If I’d been in my right mind I might have been embarrassed by how I was dripping with arousal, but I was already too far gone to care.

Keeping one arm banded tightly around my waist, she inserted a finger inside me, pumping in and out at a pace that was driving me crazy. And yet I kept working on the sky, muscle memory helping me paint in a way that my frazzled mind would never be able to do.

“Such a beautiful cloud,” she whispered.

She slid a second finger inside me, and in the quiet of the room I could hear just how wet I was. Genny picked up the pace, fucking me harder now, and my hips moved of their own volition, trying to suck her fingers deeper inside me.

She turned her hand slightly, then her thumb was pressing against my clit.

“Oh my God,” I keened.

“Keep going,”

I slid the brush along the edge of the canvas, while Genny thrust her fingers in and out of my body and stroked my clit with her thumb. I could feel little zaps of electricity moving down my spine and my vision turned fuzzy, telling me that I was about to lose control.

“I’m close,” I gasped, smearing the paint a little too thick and immediately smoothing it out.

She tilted her head, using her mouth to slide the fabric of my tank top to the side, then she was kissing my shoulder. My paintbrush stilled, fingers so tight on the handle I was surprised that I didn’t snap the thing right in half.

“Paint.”

I half-heartedly moved the brush, too far gone to pay attention to anything besides the fullness in my core and the sensation of Genny’s fingers working me over. Then she caught the skin of my shoulder between her teeth, biting down hard enough that I knew she’d leave a mark. The bite of pain tipped me right over the edge.

“Genny!” I cried, dropping the paint brush and throwing my head back as a powerful orgasm crashed through me.

I shook against her hold, moaning loudly. The only thing that was keeping me upright was her arm around my waist. She continued to tease me with her fingers, finally gentling her touch as I came down with a long sigh, my body still shaking with aftershocks.

My knees gave out and I sank down to the floor, Genny coming with me.

She pressed her fingers against my lips.

“Clean off my fingers,” she ordered. “And taste how delicious your cum is.”

My body jolted and I swear I came again, just a little, as I sucked my arousal off her fingers. It was one of the hottest things that I’d ever experienced.

Turning my head, I met her lips in a kiss that was unbearably sweet. When we pulled away, all I could do was stare at her.

“That was…” I stopped, unsure what words to use.

All I knew was that I’d never look at my painting studio – or this particular painting – the same way again.

“Yeah, it was.”

I scooted around to face her, my pants still tangled around my legs, and lifted my hand to cup her cheek. Genny leaned against my palm, her gaze tender, and in that moment I knew that she felt the same way that I did. I didn’t say the words, and neither did she, and maybe that was for the best. It would make it easier for both of us when we had to separate.

Genevieve

The next two days were idyllic. The day after our hiking trip – and that hot scene in the painting studio – Carrie took me to Snoqualmie Casino. She taught me how to play blackjack and how to bet on roulette, and when I won a hundred dollars in the nickel slots she spun me around whooping it up with me as if I’d won a million dollars.

The next day I helped her on a catering job, ignoring the curious looks from her business partner as I helped serve at a retirement brunch for some executive at a local manufacturing company. Unlike my first catering gig, no one harassed me here, and I managed to get through the whole shift without dropping anything.

A few times I caught people looking at me like they thought I looked familiar, but no one approached me or said anything, so I convinced myself that I was just imagining it. After all, why would a princess be gambling on nickel slots or serving people at a party?

That night we ordered pizza and watched the last episode of Ride or Die, which should have been a sign that things were coming to an end, but as we made love and fell asleep in each other’s arms, we were blissfully unaware of what would happen next.

We were eating waffles and bacon in the kitchen the next morning when we heard the doorbell. A few minutes later I heard Carrie call, “Genny? You’d better come out here.”