A Few Strokes To Finish

"We'll go out then. I like the food at juanoes." He settled for a plain white linen shirt, pulling it on in a way that made me want to rip it right off. I threw off the thought, feeling the need to shed light on his presumptuous statement. Breakfast after sex, where is that going to leave me?

"We'll?"

"Yeah, you me. We."

"I'm sure I get a say in what I want to put into my mouth." I plucked off a towel from the stand, wrapping my breast in the rug. When I turned, Ivan was gazing at me with a look of utter amusement, the corners of his eyes wrinkled in smile lines.

"If words could make me come, you'd be glowing in me right now. It's a pity, I just can't eat alone." He made a foreign sound, a throaty whisper that stirred my belly.

"You won't. Make me come with you." A mere whisper.

***********

A young artist, with a dream to see the world is on her path to the start line. She meets a muse she absolutely worships. But like they say, one mustn't be too caught up in the mesh of a single inspiration lest the door to all other closes.

Ivan is on his way to change the course of his own dreadful life. Being a muse wasn't on his list of priorities. But as he watches his portrait surfacing on her canvas, he begins to ask questions which present itself as answers to Abeir's queries.

P. S. The cover picture is not original. Taken from Google images. So all credits go to whoever the talented photographer is.