Page 29 of Take Me Slowly, Part 1 (Aurora Hollow duet #1)

LEAH

"What are you doing?" Connor strode over from his truck, hands tucked into his pockets.

"Painting." I unfolded my easel and set it up a comfortable distance from the zip line platform. From here, I could see over the trees, and the sparkling snake of the river.

"No shit," he said dryly.

I glanced up at him and smirked. "You did ask." I adjusted the easel and turned to shake out my camp chair. "I like the view here." I gestured toward the trees, but my eyes were on him.

It was his turn to smirk. "Of course you do." Arrogant prick.

"Am I going to bother you, sitting over here?" I asked.

"Do you give a shit if you do?" He pulled his hands out of his pockets and crossed them over his chest, looming over me as I lowered myself into my chair.

"I wouldn't want you so distracted someone got hurt," I said honestly.

"Except me," he said with a slight tilt of his head, like he was challenging me to deny it.

"I don't want you to get hurt either." I shifted to get comfortable. "If I'm going to distract you, I'll move further away." Reluctantly, I started to push myself to my feet.

He placed a hand on my shoulder and pressed me back down. "Stay there. I'm not going to be distracted."

Was that a flash of concern I saw in his hazel eyes?

The glance down at my legs confirmed that suspicion.

He'd seen my discomfort and didn't want me to push myself any further.

Although, moving a chair and easel a few metres away wouldn't exacerbate things too much.

I was tender today, rather than aching. For now.

Unless you counted my clit, which responded to both his presence and his worry. Even his possessiveness.

I sat back down and leaned to pull a canvas out of the bag beside the easel.

"You going to paint me, Kent?"

"What happened to honey?" I settled the canvas on the easel and reached for my paints.

"I figured a change wouldn't hurt. So, are you?" He watched me squeeze paint onto my palette and pull out my brush.

"I might," I said. "Do you and Riley take turns? Putting people on and off the harness, I mean." Now I was imagining them taking turns with me. One filling me to the brim before the other topping me up even further. Watching each other while they fucked me.

Judging by the way Connor's eyes darkened, his mind went to the same place.

"Yeah. Keeps things interesting. Wouldn't want to forget how to do half my job."

"I'm sure you wouldn't forget." I mixed my colours together, trying to get the right shade of green for the top of the trees.

"Right. I don't forget stuff easily. Have you always painted?" He stepped around so he could watch me put the first brush strokes on the canvas.

"I've always made art." I rolled my shoulders to loosen them, trying not to show that the question got to me.

"Let me guess, you started with finger painting," he said, as if that was a bad thing.

"Actually, I started by sticking sticks into balls of mud." I glanced at him, then back at the canvas.

"You started by playing with balls?" He laughed softly.

"And sticks," I said. "Don't forget the sticks."

"Never." His voice made me glance up at him again. He seemed to have something specific on his mind, but he blinked a couple of times and pushed it away.

"You and Riley have been tight for a long time?"

"We've been inseparable since forever," he said. "Might as well have been twins. I don't remember a time when I didn't know him. Probably isn't one. Our mothers were friends before we were born. Fathers too."

"You knew Coral Clarke?" I asked gently. As if that hadn't happened a lifetime ago.

"Not really." Connor adjusted his arms. "She lived up the mountain. Came into town for school."

"Do you remember her?" I didn't know why it mattered, but I was curious. So many years later, her death still caused ripples. I saw that in Gavin Clarke and Josiah’s haunted eyes. Josiah was the town pariah, Gavin, the town charity.

"I don't know." Connor's eyebrows dipped. "Sometimes I think I do. But I was a kid, so I might be, I don't know, imagining it, because I've heard about it for so long. Like, you hear something often enough you start to believe it, you know?"

I nodded slowly. "I get that. Do you remember when she died?"

His frown deepened. "I remember the town being in an uproar. Everyone was whispering about it, but no one would talk about it out loud. It was like… If they did, it'd be real. And no one wanted it to be real."

"I suppose they wouldn't." That made sense. No one would wanted to accept the death of a little girl, especially as tragically as that. In a small town where everyone knew each other, they all would have known her and her family.

"They probably didn't want to upset the kids in town," I said. "Adults are good at knowing what's best for us, or thinking they do." I rolled my eyes to show that I was speaking sarcastically, even though it was clear enough he'd pick up on it.

He snorted with what sounded like bitterness to match my own.

"That's for fucking sure. They like making decisions and assuming everyone is all right with them. And if we're not, they don't give a shit."

"I'm sure your parents give a shit," I said, guessing that was what he was referring to.

His brow smoothed out and he straightened his body. "Yeah. I have to get to work. Enjoy your…art." He waved a hand toward my easel before turning and stalking away to the platform to greet today's round of zip liners.

"Thanks," I called out to his back.

It seemed I hit a nerve without meaning to. That went both ways, so I turned to the view and focused my attention on painting the forest, the sky and the platform to one side.

On the platform, I painted a single figure facing away from me. Dressed in a khaki shirt and dark jeans, over worn boots. Dark hair and an ass I could bounce a coin off.

As I worked, I got to thinking about what I said about sticking sticks into balls of mud.

That was where it started, but it grew from there.

While I cleaned my brush, I found myself looking around for fallen branches, pieces of discarded wood that could have been put together to make something unique.

A large chunk of bark could have been a turtle shell.

A branch which looked like an antler. Another could be a unicorn horn.

A fallen log was perfect as the body of a unicorn. As for the legs…

I shook my head and went back to painting.

Something I could do while sitting down.

I had to ignore the longing to pick up the pieces and stash them in the back of my car.

Focus instead on what was in front of me.

Connor helping a young woman into the harness.

She was laughing, her hand on his shoulder.

She seemed to miss his disinterest entirely.

He adjusted the harness, showed her where to put her hands and gestured for her to step off the platform.

She shrugged and disappeared down the line in a squeal of excitement.

One by one, the tourists climbed into harnesses and stepped off the platform. Some hesitated, looking nervous. A couple stepped back to let others go first, but eventually took their turns.

No one fled back to the buses, which was fortunate because they were gone, waiting for everyone at the other end. Even if they weren't laughing the way they were with Riley and Seth, they still seemed to be having fun. Most talking to Charlie, while Connor was all business.

I finished the rough draft of my painting as the last of the tourists whizzed away, and Charlie and Connor started packing up.

He said something to her before she nodded and climbed into one of the trucks to drive away.

His hands in his pockets again, he strode over to me, to stand behind me and look at my work.

"It's not finished," I said. "I'll take it to touch it up."

"It's good," he said grudgingly. As if giving me a compliment was almost painful. "You painted me." He pointed to the canvas, but his finger didn't touch the still wet paint.

"What makes you think that's you?" I looked up at him sideways.

"I'd know that ass anywhere." He was all smug now, admiring the image of himself.

"Do I want to know how you know what your own ass looks like?" I asked.

"The gym has mirrors," was his reply.

"So you watch your ass while you work out?" I held back a laugh.

"Look at that ass." He gestured at the painting. "Can you blame me?"

"I guess not," I said. "I'm starting to think I did that part too well. Maybe I need to fix it." I reached for my brush.

He grabbed my wrist. "It's perfect. Leave it."

"Okay." I leaned back, but he still held on, his eyes on mine.

He brought my hand to his mouth and kissed my palm. "Do you know what you do to me, Kent?"

"Paint you too well?" He wasn't talking about that and we both knew it.

He moved my hand to the front of his jeans and pressed my palm there so I could feel his growing erection.

"That's what you do to me." He rubbed my hand up and down, lightly, holding me loose enough that I could pull away if I wanted to. "Are you going to be a good girl and do something about it?"

"I could paint that too," I said sweetly.

"You've decided to be a brat instead?" With his other hand, he undid the front of his jeans and pushed them down until his cock popped free. Holding my wrist more firmly, he pressed my hand to his length until I curled my fingers around it.

He rolled his hips a couple of times, thrusting into my fingers and groaning softly. "Be a good girl and suck my cock."

I looked up at him while I turned around in my chair to face him. One hand on his face, I leaned forward and wrapped my lips around him, taking him all the way into my mouth until he tapped the back of my throat.

"Yeah, just like that." He grabbed my ponytail and held my head as he slid all the way out of my mouth, then thrust back in.

"You take my cock so beautifully. Your mouth was fucking made for me."

I ran the tip of my tongue up and down his length, teasing the tip and tasting his salty pre-cum.

"Mmmm, just like that," he said breathlessly. He rolled his hips faster now, holding me in place while he vigorously fucked my mouth. "Good fucking girl. I'm going to come in your mouth and you're going to swallow every drop. Understood?"

I looked up at him and nodded.

He grunted and thrust a couple more times before pulling his cock out of my mouth.

"I changed my mind. I decided I'm in the mood to make some art.

" He fisted his length, pumping himself a few times before groaning, a squirt of pearly cum interjecting from his tip, onto my face and hair.

He worked himself until every drop was released, then stepped back.

A slow, satisfied smile crept onto his face.

"Fucking perfect."

Cum slid down the side of my face, warm and sticky, dripping off when it reached the bottom of my chin.

"Don't wipe it off." He pulled his phone out of his pocket and took a photo. He turned the device around to show me my face, white with his cum.

"You missed your calling," I said.

I hadn't expected to find that hot, but it was. I was an absolute mess because of him. If anyone could see me now, they'd be in no doubt as to what happened. Freshly fucked and then some.

He grinned. "I can't wait to show Riley. Now, take off those leggings and show me that pussy. I'm feeling hungry."