The dragonflies tattoist - Freenbecky

Chapter 6

Becky's apartment might have been considered spacious if the living room weren't overflowing with paintings, canvases, easels, and art supplies. It could have even been called elegant if it weren't for the splatters of paint covering the walls.

"In case you didn't notice before, my apartment is also my studio," she remarked coolly as she tossed her car keys aside carelessly and began unzipping her stunning dress, revealing more of her smooth back with each passing second. Was she really going to undress in front of Freen?

"It's a bit... cluttered," Freen observed. She didn't want to be rude, but she also didn't want to lie.

"I know. And I really don't care," Becky shrugged, as if the main rule in her life was 'You either adapt to my style or you leave.'

"I like that you don't," Freen admitted. And it was true. Becky was Becky, and she liked her that way. She didn't want her to regret it.

That's when Becky let the blue fabric fall from her body...

"Oh my God!"

Becky was completely naked in front of her. She hadn't been wearing a bra or panties, which made Freen feel like an idiot for not noticing earlier... and then even more of an idiot because, well, how could she have known?

Suddenly, it was very warm, and Freen's heart pounded so hard against her chest it might have burst out.

'Thank you for existing, ribcage.'

She didn't know if it was the harmonious shape of her body, the way her curves beckoned, or simply the fact that Becky seemed utterly unashamed, but Freen could feel herself throbbing, getting wet, her core silently screaming for attention.

Becky had firm, perfectly sized breasts, skin that looked as delicate as a feather, and legs that led straight to Freen's greatest desire...

"Are you hungry, or do you just want to go to sleep?"

Freen didn't answer. If she was going to sleep, she wanted it to be on those firm, pale breasts, and if she was going to eat, she wanted...

'Freen!' Was that Jan's voice in her head? 'Focus!' Poor Jan. She was so tiny she could fit in her head.

"Well, since you seem pretty entertained by my breasts, let's eat something. I'm hungry."

_____

The girl was still naked when they both headed to the kitchen.

Freen sat on one of the chairs at the modern, paint-splattered counter, her eyes fixed on the artist's backside, which swayed enticingly as she prepared two simple bowls of cereal.

She couldn't help but bite her lip, imagining what it would feel like to touch it.

Damn it. It was all Armstrong's fault—her ass, her shamelessness, and her parents for making her with so much love.

She was so distracted that she didn't even notice the two beautiful dragonflies tattoos trailing down her neck, or the delicate way she prepared that simple meal. She didn't see how Becky nervously rearranged her hair, as if unsure of what to do despite probably being in this situation many times before, or how she glanced back at Freen now and then, a hint of fear in her eyes as if she might leave.

Freen watched her sit down across from her and hand her a bowl of cereal. She tried to focus only on Becky's eyes, but it was impossible with something more tempting just below them, so her gaze flickered back and forth indecisively, and the air in the room grew heavier by the second.

"Do you want me to cover up?"

Of course she didn't want that, but saying so would have been inappropriate.