James had never felt as content as he did now.
His world went quiet with Maggie. It was peaceful. Cozy.
He knew what he must've been feeling deep down in his creaky old heart, he wasn't even sure existed most of the time.
Through the couple days after the Gala, there was a shift between them. There was a renewed energy that he couldn't quite put his finger on. It was like they both knew exactly where they stood with the other.
Maggie had another showcase coming up, so she had been busy with long shifts at work since Sunday. Almost like August was punishing her for taking the weekend off, he scheduled her to work doubles two days in a row.
Wednesday afternoon, she arrived at James' home, ready for a relaxing evening. She walked through the entire six floors of the mansion to find it empty. She trudged up to the closet to change out of her work clothes. Slipping on her favorite thing to wear when James wasn't around— one of his dress shirts. They always smelled like him and hung low over her body like a dress.
Padding down to the kitchen to find a snack, she saw a note resting on the counter.
'If you're reading this, I'm still at the office.
I'll be home soon. Call if you need anything.
PS: Take a peek in the study.
-J.B.B.'
Maggie loved that he left her notes. She found his handwriting entrancing.
Dancing down one floor to the study. She pushed open the tall mahogany door, and her heart skipped a beat.
In one of the small nooks of space where couches once sat, now held a large easel. A wide ecru work table sat beside it. She padded across the room, opening the drawers that sat below the table, to find an impressive variety of premium brand paints. Every color she could imagine. Untouched brushes and pallet knives sat in various glass containers, displayed in an aesthetically pleasing way. Blank canvases sat resting up against the adjacent wall. All different sizes. Varying from twelve by twelves to six foot tall monsters.
She was speechless. No one had ever done something so romantic for her. She tied her hair half up in a top knot, excitedly spread out one of the linen tarps, and got to work on one of the giant six footers that was calling her name. She rested in up against the wall, letting it sit on the floor. Standing in front of it, squeezing the tubes of color, then mashing them together with a pallet knife to create a rainbow of hues.
Using one of the wide flat brushes, she spread long streaks across the Gesso'd base. Slowly, but surely, it filled up. Abstract splotches of gorgeous color covered the entirety of it. She let it dry a bit before continuing. Lying down on the material resting over the hardwood floor on her side, she stretched out her sore back, reading one of the many books James owned.
Half an hour later, he walked in to find her just like that. Sprawled out on the floor, in front of her canvas, clutching a book in her hands. "Hi, doll."
She twisted around to her belly to face him. "Hi." She chirped over.
He strode over, happy to see she had been enjoying her new set up. Even happier that all she wore was one of his shirts and her necklace. He scooped her up into his arms, chuckling when he saw that she had a streak of dried baby blue paint on her cheek. Licking his thumb, he scrubbed over it, wiping it away. "Messy girl."
She laughed looking over herself, realizing she got paint on one of his shirts. Her smile fell from her face, wiggling from his grasp. "James, I'm so sorry. I just got so excited when I saw the canvases and forgot I was wearing one of your shirts." She sputtered out an explanation, but he didn't bat an eye.
"Do you really think I care about a shirt? You know me better than that."
"But— but it's one of your nice ones." She pouted.
He strode over to the worktable, happily eyeing the mess she's made of it. Her pallet was covered in various colors, only slightly goopy from sitting out. He picked it up in his hand, swiping his palm through it, collecting a big glob in his hand.
"I don't. Give. A fuck." He brought his hand to her, swiping the handful of paint over the once pristine ivory material, covering it in a mix of frilly pastels. She gasped at the gesture, staring down at the thousand dollar shirt. Looking back up at James, he wore a sly smirk. Her startled expression faded into a smile, laughing.
He dropped the pallet to the floor. Lunging forward, gripping the sides of her face, he pulled her into a rough kiss. His paint covered hand leaving a thick smear over her cheek. As their bodies collided, the paint from her torso, spread onto his Armani suit. Both of them instantly ruined, but neither of them cared enough to stop.
They fell to the floor, quickly stripping each other of their clothes. James plunged deep inside of her, instantly. He craved her warmth the entire time he was at work. He nearly chewed the end of his pen to bits as he sat at his desk, bouncing his knee. Playing try-not-to-blink with the clock in his office.
He took her apart, in the middle of the study, surrounded by millions of highly sought after first editions and ancient literature. The sounds of their panting echoed off the tall ceiling, filtering down over the rich custom paneled walls. Her skin was left covered in small smears of paint, leaving marks wherever he touched her.
Gripping her by the waist, he rolled over, with her on top. He felt something gush under him as he moved, making him glance down to see a discarded tube of pink paint left squirted fully empty from his weight, leaving his side covered in it.
Maggie's eyes widened. "Oh no... I'm so—"
"If the next words the come out of your lips are an apology, I'll rip my cock right out of you and leave you aching for the rest of the afternoon."
She buttoned her lips, letting herself smile at the sight of him covered in a precious, feminine hue for the first time in his life. His eyes narrowed at her mocking reaction. Reaching down he scooped some of the paint off of his chiseled abs and spread his hands over her plump breasts, down over her belly. Before she could even react he tugged her back down to kiss him. Her hips started to grind down on him, circular motions making him hit every sweet spot inside of her.
"Fuck." He whispered through his clenched jaw. "Thats it. Just like that." He gripped her ass, giving it a rough squeeze, guiding her movements.
Flipping her around he sat them up, accidentally bumping her into the large six foot canvas that rested beside them, leaving a light streak of pink at the base. He cringed, but shrugged off the worries. Too focused on her to worry about the painting for the time being.
He positioned her on all fours. Ramming himself back in, moving more erratically now. Her ass was left covered in paint from his hips smacking into her.
It was oddly erotic. Pinpointing exactly where they had touched each other with the smears of color.
He sat back, watching himself stretch her pussy wide, admiring the way she dripped for him. She fell to pieces, arms crumpling underneath her, giving him a delicious view of her arched back, pushing her ass harder against him.
He hunched forward and followed along, filling her to the brim, leaking out with his final thrusts.
Only letting her catch her breath for a second, before he hauled her up in his arms, heading straight for the master suite bathroom.
James let the water heat up, before plugging the drain and dumping in a beautiful concoction of soaps. Dior and Jo Malone. Lighting a few of the Le Labo Santal candles that surrounded the tub. He looked over his shoulder, to find Maggie standing in a slight post-climax daze. Pink paint was smattered over every inch of her. Her chest, thighs, face. All covered. Completely ruined. He fucking loved it.
He stepped in with her, sinking down into the bubbles and tucking her to his chest. The warm water felt like heaven. Slowly, the paint started to melt away, off their skin. He took his time, scrubbing over her with a washcloth, then washing her hair for her, combing out the chips of color. He took care of himself next, having her help reach his broad, muscular back.
They settled in the water, letting their sexed out bodies be submerged in the luxurious scents.
Her head softly rested over his slick chest, listening to his heartbeat, letting its slow rhythm lull her to a blissful state. "Do you want to go to San Fransisco with me?" She breezed, eyes held shut.
He peeked down at her, through his low hung lids. "With Nat and Steve?"
"Mhmm. Natasha invited us. She thinks thats when he's going to propose, so she needs me to be there." She sighed, contentedly. "I could show you are where I grew up and you could meet my grandma if you want. Could be fun."
"I would love to." He pressed a kiss to the top of her wet mop of hair.
She sweetly smiled, nuzzling into his chest, yawning.
"Do we need a nap, sweetheart?"
"I think so."
With that, he stood them up, a waterfall dripping from them as they rose from the tub. He dried them off with his Egyptian cotton Graccioza towels, then carrying her to his bed. Cozying up together, bodies and hair still damp. There was truly no better feeling than climbing into bed after a bath— especially after a long day of work and some killer sex.
Maggie rolled over on her belly, leaning up on her elbows to face her snoozing bear of a man. "Psst." His eyes stayed closed, so she tried again. "Psssst."
He sighed. "What is it, doll?" Speaking with his eyes closed.
"Is Steve really going to propose to Nat while we're there?" She whispered.
Peeking his eyes open down at her, a smile creeped over his lips. "After the other night, I don't trust you to keep any secrets, young lady."
She scoffed. "Rude. I can keep big ones if I have to."
"Yes. He is."
She smiled, excitedly wiggling under the duvet. "How long have you known?"
"That guy bought a ring the after his second date with her. He's been wanting this since day one, so to answer your question— a while."
Maggie swooned at how romantic that was. Steve was such a traditional man, trying to tame Natasha's wild self and succeeding heartedly. She couldn't wait for the trip, she just had to keep her lips sealed until then.
She happily sunk back down to the mattress, letting sleep consume her.
It felt like only a second before her eyes creaked open. The bed felt a bit colder than usual. She reached around for James to chase some warmth, but he wasn't there. She shot up to find that the bed was empty. Wrapping his fur throw around herself, she trudged down through the house in search of him.
She heard a grunt coming from the study, so she popped her head in. He was bent over, scrubbing the floor with a rag, cleaning up their mess from earlier in the day. He wore a t-shirt and jeans. Something about seeing him in casual clothing was oddly sexy. It took down his intimidating front he usually wore, in his five figure suits.
"Hi."
He turned his head, to give her a quick nod. "Hi."
"I would've helped you clean." She said as she walked across the wide room.
"No fuss. You looked so comfortable, I didn't want to wake you." He tossed the rag into the bucket of water beside himself. She had never seen him doing any kind of cleaning around the house. She liked how domestic it felt, finding him in this state.
He sighed and stood to his feet, sliding his arms into the blanket that encased her naked body. Enjoying the view of her breasts as he stood over her. "I like your painting by the way."
She leaned her head on his chest, smiling. "Thank you."
"Can I have it?"
Her head shot back, looking up to find him wearing an unwavering expression of seriousness. "What?"
"I want to buy it from you."
Letting out a chuckle, as she shook her head. "You can just have it when it's finished. You're the one that supplied the paints and canvas. I already owe you another piece for your office as it is."
"Then let this be the third piece you owe me."
She frowned. "But it's all... colorful. I thought you wanted blacks and blues." Peeking over his bicep to look at it, she saw a light pink streak at the bottom of it, smirking when she realized it kinda looked like the shape of her hip and ass cheek.
He glanced over at the canvas, looking it over. "But it's you. I want to be constantly reminded of the beautiful, creative, deliciously sweet woman that owns my heart."
Gazing up at him with nothing, but love in her eyes. She stood on her toes, pressing a kiss to the middle of his chest. Right over his heart. "Okay. It's yours."
Bending at the waist, he kissed her passionately. Sucking up every last breath that slipped from her mouth, nibbling over her lips, leaving soft bites. Showering her with affection. "I— I love you."
It was the first time he's ever stuttered in front of her, feeling weak at the confession. He couldn't help it. He was different around her. Around his doll. He needed her to know how he felt. That she was the one to find a way to get his shambles of a heart beating again, squeezing the pieces together with her sticky sweetness.
Her pouty lips fell open at the confession, letting out a soft breath.
"I love you too."