The review

Lucas

Anastasia calls two days before the next sitting, apologetic in that graceful way she has, explaining her father needs her for something at the estate and she won’t make it back in time. “Could you take the portrait to Damien instead? He can review the progress for both of us”.

I say yes before I’ve fully thought it through, and then spend the entire drive over regretting saying yes at all.

The house looks the same as it always does. A housekeeper lets me in and tells me Damien’s expecting me in his study, and I walk there with the canvas under my arm like a shield.

He’s at his desk when I come in, jacket off, sleeves rolled, and he looks up in a way that makes my chest go tight and stupid.

“I wanted this man” I want him to fill me up with his cock…shut up Lucas! I snapped back.

“Anastasia said you’d be reviewing on her behalf,” I say, too fast, setting the canvas against the wall.

“So I hear.” He comes around the desk, studies the painting for a long moment really studies it, not the polite glance-and-nod I expected. “It’s good. Better than good.”

“You sound surprised.”

“I’m not, actually.” He looks at me instead of the canvas now. “That’s the problem.”

I should ask what he means. I don’t get the chance, because he’s closer than he was a second ago, closer than makes any sense, and I can feel my own pulse in my throat when he says my name like it’s something he’s been holding onto.

Fuck! I muttered the moment I heard him say my name and I suddenly closed the distance between us, his face in my hands and our lips found each other it wasn’t slow it was so fast I could barely keep up, umm I moan into his soft lips his hands found my ass, grabbing them foundling them, “ummm fuck” I moan again my hands in his shirt his chest so firm and hairy I touched his nipple and heard a moan erupted from him. Fuck even his moan sound so sexy.

I slipped my hand into his pants, that huge big dick he grabbed my ass tighter at the action I went down and was just about to pull his pants but just then… Stop.

He pulls back like I’ve burned him, putting the length of the room between us in about two steps, and the look on his face isn’t confusion or want anymore. It’s something colder.

“That shouldn’t have happened.”

“Damien…”

“I’m not gay.” He says it like it’s an argument he’s had with himself a hundred times and is now performing for an audience. “I’m not attracted to men. To you. This is not i don’t know what you think this is, but it isn’t that.”

The words land harder than they should, because I know, somewhere underneath the hurt, that he’s talking to himself more than me. It doesn’t make it hurt less.

But…you can’t deny the chemistry here, I want you.

Stop! His voice rising.

“Okay,” I say quietly, because there’s nothing else to say to a man determined to unmake something that already happened. I pick up my bag. “I’ll let Anastasia know the portrait’s on track.”

I leave before he can see what his face just did to mine.