Girl You Fucked Before (18+)

I Want To Paint You Naked

Ryan chuckled while he loaded film into his camera. "There's a lot you don't know about the city. And I intend to show you all of it. First stop, Central Park."

Spreading my arms wide, I spun around, snow crunching beneath my boots. "New York City has parks?" I questioned in disbelief. "How could you not tell me sooner that such a place existed here? That would have changed everything."

I carefully balanced myself on a small rock while Ryan moved around me, clicking away. "Instead, you let me mope," I playfully scolded. "Tsk, tsk."

He smiled. "I thought you might appreciate the scenery versus another towering concrete structure."

Powdery and pristine flakes sifted through my fingers as I crouched to admire the freshly fallen snow. "Is this alright?" I asked, glancing up with a shy grin. "I'm not really certain what I should be doing."

He nodded with enthusiasm. "You're doing just fine. I want you to explore. Have fun with your surroundings. Candid moments always make for the best photographs."

"Okay," I replied, strolling down the icy sidewalks. Puffs of white curled from my mouth as I spoke. Despite the clear blue day and the sun poking its rays out, the temperature was rather frigid.

"Ryan!" I exclaimed, pointing at a large boulder jutting out of the side of a hill. "Take my picture on that."

I sprinted my way over towards the formation, grabbing hold of a pointed edge as I began climbing my way up.

"Be careful," he warned, his tone firm. "It's slippery."

But no sooner were the words out of his mouth, did my feet slide out from beneath me, my ankle twisting in the process. I skidded down the rock on my butt, soaking my jeans as I went.

"Ow!" I cried, wincing upon halting at the bottom of the boulder. Leaning forward, I massaged my ankle. "I think I broke it. It really hurts."

With furrowed brows, Ryan stuffed his camera into his bag before rushing over towards my aid. He lifted the pant leg of my jeans and inhaled sharply at my puffy ankle which was already turning purple.

"Fuck," he muttered. "That looks quite nasty. Do you think you can walk?"

I shook my head, hot tears pricking my lids as searing pain throbbed throughout my leg.

Without hesitation, he scooped me up into his arms and lifted me. "We'll have to get a cab." His gaze fell upon my face, and he grinned. "Well, it's better you fell off a rock at Central Park than the balcony of the Empire State Building."

I laughed in response, gritting my teeth through the pain. "I'm such an idiot."

He shrugged, squinting his eyes as he studied my ankle. "I don't think it's broken though. Just severely strained. I think you'll survive with ice and some propping up."

He puffed out his cheeks as he began the slow trek back to civilization. The wail of sirens and horns growing louder, indicated that we were almost back in the hustle and bustle of the city. Ryan was quick to hail a cab, and by the time we were back at his loft, my ankle wasn't screaming as nearly much as it had been.

"Here," Ryan said, offering me a plush white robe. "Why don't you change out of those wet jeans."

I eyed the garment, bristling at the idea of a near naked woman lounging around in his kitchen, on his sofa, in his bed...

He shrugged at me. "I entertain a lot," he supplied, as though reading my mind. "I like to make sure that my guests are comfortable. Don't worry though. It's clean."

As I reached to swipe the robe from his grasp, he frowned at me. "Do you think that you can manage to change into it on your own?"

A flush crawled its way up my neck. "I'll figure it out," I mumbled, heading towards the bathroom. I may have had seductive fantasies about him giving me oral but that certainly didn't mean that I wanted to parade about in front of him, wearing only my bra and panties.

And it was my white cotton laundry day underwear at that. No thank you. Spare me the embarrassment.

When I emerged, he was standing in the middle of the living room, scrolling through the contents of his camera with a wide grin on his face. He glanced up upon me wandering over.

"These are really amazing shots, Vanessa," he marveled, tilting the screen so that I could catch a glimpse.

My sights focused on a still of me tossing snow in the air, white sparkles raining back down around me. I was gazing up at the sky and laughing. The delight in my being was palpable and I wondered how Ryan managed to capture the very best of me.

He glanced over at me, concern instantly etched onto his expression. "How's your ankle?"

Wiggling it out in front of me, I studied it. The swelling had gone done some, but the skin would remain bruised for the next several days. "I think I'll live," I joked.

He ushered me over to the sofa, helping me settle into the cushions. "Let me grab you an ice pack."

When he returned, he knelt in front of me causing my belly to pool with warmth at the very thought of what else he could be doing while he was positioned at crotch level. Pressing the ice gently to my ankle, he gazed up at me earnestly.

"I have to admit that I feel partially to blame for your injury," he confessed.

"Why?" I asked with a giggle. "You weren't the moron that tried to scale a solid sheet of ice."

He chuckled, before setting aside the ice. His fingers skimmed across the swollen part of my ankle as he studied it. "At least it's not broken."

His touch paused briefly before continuing in a slow graze up my calf that stopped just short of the knee. "You know, Vanessa," he murmured. "You have such a beautiful figure. I would love to paint your entire body."

I nodded. "Sure, go ahead. Before I took my spill, you probably managed to snag a few poses that weren't just headshots, yea?"

"Of course," he replied. "I captured plenty, but bulky clothing doesn't really highlight the curvature of your frame." He cleared his throat. "Outside of art class, I never painted a woman nude before, and I would love for you to be my first subject. There's just something so captivating about your entire essence."

Our eyes locked, a swell of heat simmering between us, and I swallowed. "I'm...uh...flattered," I stammered out. "But Ryan, I have a boyfriend and I don't think that would be appropriate."

Dropping my leg, he rocked back onto his heels. "It's only art, Vanessa. I promise that it's not a sexual thing. Your boyfriend would have nothing to worry about it."

"I don't think that he would view another guy painting me naked as nothing to be concerned about," I protested.

He stood up, raising his palms. "I won't push the subject if you're not comfortable doing it but at least take some time to consider what I'm asking."

My heart hammered against my rib cage as I stared at him. The answer is obviously going to be no. What a preposterous request. There is no way I will ever agree to being painted in the buff. I don't want the entire world to see my breasts and privates.

He's out of his mind. Completely absurd. It's a firm no.

I watched as he worked a corkscrew into the cork of a bottle of wine, the veins in his forearms flexing with his motions. I gulped.

But what if it isn't?