𝐋𝐚𝐬 𝐕𝐞𝐠𝐚𝐬 ❺

Chapter 17

Steve simply replied, ‘I'd rather do my work’

Nat was upstairs in his room, packing stuff for her man. She walked over to the art corner and got everything that he'd told her to. More pencils, premium quality papers, and paints. That was, until she accidentally bumped into a stack of paintings in the corner, revealing something that took Natasha by surprise.

It was a nude portrait of a red head woman. It was her.

How the hell in the world could he paint everything accurately? How the hell in the world could he work on every little tiny detail of her? It was impossible, since he'd only seen her naked twice, and every time, they'd been clouded by lust and passion.

Nat felt herself getting wet just by thinking about their first night together. God! She couldn’t control her desire for him anymore. Just the slightest thought of him could get her whole body burning up. Nat sat down on the chair as she shuffled through the nude portrait collection of herself. Wow! He'd really gotten the details about everything. Nat tried very hard not to touch herself when all she could think of was Steve’s tongue, tasting the paint on her body.

“What are you doing, darling?”

Suddenly, a shadow loomed over her. Steve was standing her behind her. Nat shot to her feet and put the painting away.

“Nothing.” She lied, but the redness on her cheeks told him the truth.

“Babe, your cheeks are red and you are obviously out of breath.” He noticed.

“I don’t know what you are talking about.” She evaded it as usual. “What about you, Mr. Artist? Why there are nude portraits of me?"

“Because you are my muse.” He replied honestly. “I couldn’t get you out of my head, so I had to do something before I went insane.”

“I don’t know if that’s creepy or really sweet.”

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you since the first day we met, Natasha.” He insisted. “That’s the truth.”

Nat avoided eye contact with him, because his intense blue eyes burned her to the core. She couldn’t help it. Everything about him was so sexy and attractive in a way she didn’t want it to stop. Steve stepped closer, and she could feel the heat coming off his body. His big hands caressed her face.

Nat still avoided his gaze. “I’m sure that you had someone to model for you,” She said. “Was it one of your French girls?”

“It’s purely from my memories of you, Natasha.” He replied gently. His eyes gleamed adoringly at the woman in front of him. “I could remember most of the things about you starting the first night we met.”

“What else do you remember from that night?”

Steve kissed her lips. “You lips was as red as blood but it as sweet as honey.” His lips trailed down to her neck and light kissed it, whispering. “Your skin is so soft and it always taste so good.” He licked on her skin, feeling her shuddered in his embrace. “The taste of the paint on your body.” He came back to kiss her lips again. “The taste of you is still stick on my tongue.” Steve replied. “I love it and I could remember it every time I close my eyes.”

Nat unintentionally whimpered from the last sentence alone and she clutched his shirt tightly. Steve smirked victoriously and knew that he had won this battle. Nat felt her cheeks burn again and she knew she had to do something to get back at him and earn her dignity back.

“Draw me.” She told him. “Really draw me like one of your French girls.”

“Are you sure?” He asked. “You have to stay still like an hour or so.”