Page 39 of Developing Hearts (Pine Point Fixer-Uppers #5)
Chapter thirty-nine
Mason
“You’re sure this isn’t an imposition?” Mason really didn’t want to overstay his welcome so soon. “I can bunk with one of the guys back at the hotel.”
“The only imposition is that you’re still wearing your clothes.”
Mason was ready to make a snide remark, but when he turned toward the approaching voice, his words caught in his throat. David stood in the doorway of the master bedroom wearing nothing but a tiny—very tiny—pair of black briefs. His hair was tied up into a messy bun and he smiled wide.
“I said I wanted to paint you. Let’s get into the studio and get nude-io.”
Mason finally managed to get his mouth to work.
“The fact that you made that joke and I’m still attracted to you has to be proof that this is real.
” Mason looked to the bed, where he’d been fluffing up the pillows and rearranging the bedding.
Then he looked back to David, all lithe muscles and tawny skin, and headed out into the hallway, pulling his shirt up over his head as he walked.
He tossed it aside and started tripping his way out of his jeans.
He chucked those onto the couch, staring at David’s ass as he headed into what used to be the guest bedroom.
It had been converted into a studio where David could do as much art as he wanted, whatever type he wanted…
and Jake had installed a Murphy bed, just in case he ever did need to host someone.
A pang of embarrassment sliced through Mason, but he battered it back. It didn’t matter what Mason thought about his body. It would be great if he loved the way he looked and had no perceivable flaws, but who was that lucky?
It really mattered what David thought. It wasn’t like Mason was going to throw all his self-worth into what someone else thought of him, but in that moment, David wanted to see him naked, wanted to paint him…
and presumably do more than that. So Mason stopped just outside the door to the studio and stripped out of his boxer-briefs so he was totally exposed. Then he stepped in.
David looked him up and down and his smile widened. “God damn. I don’t know if I’m going to make it all the way to painting.”
Mason stepped to him and cupped David’s bulge, squeezing and kneading at it. “You’re going to paint. And then we’re going to get that upholstery all dirty again.” It was agony, but he stepped away and spread out his arms. “So, where do you want me?”
David pulled off his briefs and flung them out the door, then went for the canvas, which was already on the easel. He was planning this. He started sorting through tubes of oil paint while he spoke. “Can I ask you for something…different?”
“I’m naked and trying not to pound into you for the next hour straight. You can basically ask for anything.”
David smiled and raised his eyebrows. “Don’t give me that kind of power.”
“Too late. You already have it.”
David looked at him like a starving animal, his gaze raking up and down Mason’s body.
He opened his mouth to say something, then shook his head.
“I have a plan. I don’t need to deviate.
This time.” Pink feathered up his neck and into his cheeks, but his gaze was unfaltering.
“Can you jerk off for me? I…the main emotion I’m trying to capture is intimacy, and I don’t think there’s anything more intimate than watching someone pleasure themselves. ”
Heat raced from Mason’s belly up to his face. That did seem intimate. But he should have expected that. Every one of the paintings got more and more explicit each time.
Mason looked into his eyes, not at his body.
His hand slid down his body almost of its own accord.
He wrapped his fingers around his shaft and, as he sank into the familiar sensation of his own hand, David grabbed a palette knife and began putting black streaks on the canvas.
It was angled so that Mason couldn’t see it, so he didn’t bother trying to watch or figure anything out.
He just stroked his shaft up and down, and he didn’t even realize it when his eyes closed.
He never quite felt like he was alone, always aware of the presence of David to the side, but he still slipped into the pleasure of his own touch.
Up, down, up, down. He didn’t stroke quickly, but kept up a steady pressure in his grip.
His calves tensed and relaxed, knees growing weaker as ecstasy filtered through him.
He felt the electric sensation moving through his thighs, his hips, tightening his ass, up his spine, and out of his mouth as moaning and panting.
His free hand played over his chest, scraping against his nipples, pert from the slight chill of just being naked.
When he heard some shuffling to the side, he almost didn’t bother to open his eyes.
Yet when he did, he was glad for it. David was hunched over the easel, splatters of black, red, and green already sprayed across his bare chest and arms. A tiny peek of pink tongue stuck out between his teeth as he stared at the canvas.
He held a brush now, the palette knife on a wad of newspaper on the floor, and he slashed it across the canvas.
There was a light in his dark eyes that couldn’t be accounted for by the wall sconces.
His other hand wasn’t braced anywhere, instead between his legs, tugging and massaging his shaft, which shot a bolt of lightning straight through Mason and twitched precum out of the tip of his cock.
David was there, creating, lost in an image of Mason, and that made him horny enough he had to jack off.