Page 8 of A Virgo’s Muse (BLP Signs of Love #12)

She stood there bare, bold, and breathtaking, framed by the soft flicker of candles and a skyline peeking through the studio windows. I’d never seen something so pure and powerful in my life. Desire . The name fit too well.

I helped her out of the navy green dress slowly like I was unwrapping something sacred. My fingers traced her back as the fabric slipped down her frame. She didn’t flinch, didn’t rush. She just looked up at me with those hazel eyes like she knew I’d never mishandle her.

She was art. All those damn paintings she spent her time creating didn’t hold a candle to what she looked like standing in front of me with nothing on but trust.

I pulled off my shirt then the rest of my clothes, laying them neatly beside hers.

I grabbed the remote off the speaker and hit play on the playlist Sade put together.

That girl had a mouth, but she knew how to set a damn mood.

The first notes of some R it was spiritual.

Everything we’d been through this past month led us here.

I’d seen her vulnerable. She’d cried in my arms and told me about the fire, her parents, the fear of losing everything she worked so hard for.

I’d promised her she’d never have to carry that alone again. I meant that shit.

Every time I showed up to her studio, dropped off new brushes, or filled her vases with fresh flowers, it wasn’t just about helping her create; it was about watching her heal. And now? Now, I wanted to worship the woman who’d made me feel again.

I dipped into a deep plum paint next, smearing it gently across her stomach, then tracing along her hip.

Desire giggled. “That tickles.”

I grinned. “Good.”

She dipped her hands into teal next, bold as ever, then pressed both palms against my chest. The warmth of her touch mixed with the cool paint made me exhale hard.

“Your turn,” she said, eyes glowing.

She ran her fingers over my abs slowly and intentionally then over the ink on my ribs.

“You ever think about getting rid of any of these?” she asked, lightly outlining one of my older tattoos.

“Nah. Even the ones I got when I ain’t know better, they still tell my story.”

She nodded. “I wanna know it all one day.”

“You will.” I paused. “But just know… I got a few chapters I don’t read out loud.”

Her eyes met mine, unflinching. “I’ll still listen.”

That’s when I kissed her. Not because I wanted to, but because I had to.

I grabbed her waist and pulled her into me. My lips crashed into hers like I needed to taste the gratitude she didn’t know how to say. She kissed me back harder, nails dragging down my chest, smearing the paint between us.

We stumbled to the tarp, laughing between kisses. I dropped to my knees, looking up at her like a damn prayer. I painted her thighs and kissed the inside of them, too, like I was marking her with more than just color.

“You’re mine,” I whispered against her skin.

She looked down, breath shaky. “Yeah?”

“I won’t stop until you know it in your bones.”

She sat on my lap next, dipping her fingers into copper and trailing them up my shoulders and over my jaw. I let her paint me, let her take control for a second. Then I flipped her gently onto her back, hovering over her.

“Now, let me do what I came here to do,” I whispered.

“What’s that?”

“Cover every inch of you… in me.”

She moaned softly, her head tipping back as I dipped into a soft red and ran it down her legs, her sides, and her neck. Paint was everywhere on her, on me, on the canvas, and in our hair.

It wasn’t about perfection. It was about connection. It was chaotic. It was intimate. It was us.

I spread her legs apart to look at her perfectly shaven pussy. We kissed anytime we were around each other, but tonight, I would get to taste her and fuck her until the sun rose.

I said a silent prayer before I laid flat on my stomach and placed my head between her thighs.

I nuzzled my nose into her core before I began my feast. I took long, slow, deliberate licks, trying to savor every drop of her essence.

Everyone had their own opinions on what pussy tasted like, and I didn’t eat pussy a lot, but this was the best pussy I’d tasted since I started this shit.

It didn’t have a smell, and it was sweet, not bitter or tasted like pennies.

The more I worked my tongue on her pussy the faster and louder her moans got.

I lifted my right hand, bringing it to her mouth. I allowed her to suck on them before I stuck my index and middle finger into her dripping wet pussy. I began my vicious attack, and soon, I began to hear Desire moan out my name.

“Ooh, Onyx,” she said, moaning loudly.

Soon after, she came all over my fingers and mouth, making a sticky mess. I licked my fingers clean before I licked my lips, searching for the rest of her nectar.

I leaned down and kissed her passionately. She sucked my bottom lip into her mouth. She moved her hand to the back of my head to deepen the kiss, and I allowed her for a second before I broke the kiss. I looked down in her eyes and saw nothing but love and purity looking back up at me.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” I questioned.

If she said no, I would stop all physical touch at that moment. Consent was and would always be my number one priority. She didn’t say anything at first, but then she licked her lips and parted her mouth.

“I want this, Onyx,” she confirmed, and that gave me the green light to continue what I had been wanting to do since I saw her body naked.

I rubbed my hardened dick up and down her slit. It was still sticky and wet from her first orgasm. When my dick was wet enough, I placed it at her entrance and began slow strokes so she could get comfortable with the length of my dick.

When I heard the first moan from her mouth, I picked up my speed. I didn’t just fuck her. I made love to her body, mind, and soul. With each stroke and the way her tight pussy grabbed my dick, I fell deeper and deeper into her—figuratively not actually.

We went round for round, nut for nut. It was like as soon as I made her cum, she wanted to upstage me and make me nut harder than what she’d just done. She finally tapped out.

That’s when it was over. When the music faded and our bodies stilled, she curled up in my arms on that tarp, skin sticky with paint, hearts open and bare.

“I used to think I’d never let anyone see this side of me,” she said quietly.

“Why’s that?” I asked, brushing her hair back.

“Because I didn’t think I had anything left to give.”

I kissed her temple. “You gave me peace. That’s everything.”

She didn’t say anything after that. She didn’t have to. We laid there, tangled and quiet, letting the silence speak for us. Because this, this was love in its rawest form.

What they be saying? When you fuck with a Virgo, it’s like fucking with Death Row. Well, where the fuck was that contract? Desire had my ass falling head over heels and ready to go fight Suge Knight or some shit.