If You Were Ours

"Run" (Patreon Sample pt.1)

This is a sample from my Patreon account. Part 2 will be posted there soon.

I wanted to see how you all felt about primal play. Let me know in the comments!

Kinsley~

Huffing out an irritated breath that made my hair dance across my face, I practically glared at the painted canvas in front of me as if it were my enemy.

This looks like shit.

With anger bubbling up at my shoddy craftsmanship, I picked up a brush, slammed it into the darkest color on my pallet and made a furious dark slash across the soft pastels.

Bumping the canvas with my fingertips, I let it fall to the floor and scooted my stool backwards in a rush, hearing it scrape loudly.

I tossed the brushes into a vase full of water haphazardly knowing it was making a mess, but unable to care.

I'm better than this. Why am I in such a slump with my artwork?

Things had been a little boring lately. Dane and Tyson had been working a lot and while I was grateful for the lack of danger, I longed for just a little excitement.

Making my way toward the door, I snatched my paint stained button-down off and flung it toward the hook on the wall. It fell in a crumpled pile on the floor flaring further frustration in me. Bending at the waist I snatched it up, banging my elbow on the thick wooden shelf in the process.

"Motherfucker." I whispered through gritted teeth as I rubbed at my tingling elbow.
Not wanting anyone to witness my artistic struggles, I locked the door with the key that Xander and Dane had installed for me, slipping the key into the pocket of my dress.

I moved to head down stairs, but ran into Tyson's firm chest the second I turned around.

"Jeez" I said with a sigh, clutching at my own chest.

Normally I could hear his heavy footsteps coming up the stairs and down the hallway, but I guess I had been too distracted to notice.

"What's wrong?" His scowl was present, but his tone was soft.

"Nothing." I grumbled, moving past him to one side.

"Nope. Wrong." He corrected flatly, taking hold of my arm and pulling me back toward him. "Tell me what's wrong."

Tyson towered over me and his expression was cold and stern, but his voice was pleading with me to open up to him.

"I'm not producing the kind of work I'm capable of. It's pissing me off."

With his grip loosened, I was able to side step Tyson and make my way down the hall and down the stairs toward the kitchen. It was no surprise to hear his heavy steps trailing behind me.

"I'm sure you're just being critical. Let me see what you're working on."

"No." I practically screamed, placing my hand on the key in my pocket for good measure.

"No?" He asked, half annoyed by my refusal.
"I don't want you to see. It's awful." I took a glass from the cabinet and filled it with water.

"I'll be the judge of that." Tyson countered.

Taking a cautious sip of my water, I eyed Tyson as he took a step forward with his hand outstretched.

"Give me the key."

I wrapped my fingers around the key in my pocket in an act of defiance.

"I don't want you to see it." I countered, placing my glass on the table.