Chapter Eight—The Stroke of A Brush I nipped my bottom lip right after I nodded in response, my eyes felt glued, intently watching as he reached for the waist band of his male undergarment. I almost bit my bottom lip off when I finally yelled, “Wait!!” He looked right up at me, “What?” “I…I…” stuttering heavily, “We don’t have to finish the mural today.” It was a great lie, a perfect lie, one I wished and hoped he believed—that I couldn’t finish the mural, instead of me being a coward. “That’s fine by me.” He murmured, “What’s next?” “Uhhh… I need you to stand beside the water, cl..close to the waterbed almost and look straight towards me.” I responded, nervous to the wreck. He nodded and did exactly as I wanted, the perfect position. I picked up my thin line brush to map out his body. It was almost too enthralling, every stroke, every lave of my brush on the canvass. The moon was one thing, painting Asher Blackwood was another….almost be
Terakhir Diperbarui : 2025-05-01 Baca selengkapnya