Free God of Ecstasy by Lena loneson Page B

legs. The darker
aureoles of her nipples were barely visible through the fabric. Large swaths of
skin were uncovered down her sides, and it was tied together at her waist and
with thin straps over her shoulders. There was nothing underneath the bottom of
the negligee. She saw his fingers twitch and knew how badly he wanted to touch
her, but he would play along with the spirit of the game.
    There would be time for that, but not right away.
    She curled the silk belt in her hand, rolling it up into a
tight ball of fabric. She leaned forward and asked him, “Any last words?”
    He shook his head and opened his mouth to give her space for
the homemade gag. She placed it in gently, leaning over him so that the lace
covering her breasts skimmed the fabric of his shirt. When the gag was in place
she kissed his forehead, down his nose, over to his ears, and whispered, “Okay,
then, take your punishment.” His chest shook against her breasts with
suppressed laughter. “Shut up!” she reprimanded him with a smile. “This is very
serious business.”
    He nodded and blinked at her contritely. She arched an
eyebrow at him and put on her best stern face. There was absolutely nothing
contrite about the god’s expression.
    “Be careful,” she warned him, “or I will punish you for
real, god of wine and theatre. I took a few classes in undergrad and I might
still have Electra’s speeches from the Oresteia memorized. And I am a terrible
actress.”
    Dionysus widened his eyes in mock horror, shaking his head.
    She leaned forward and touched him again, enjoying the feel
of his chest hair under her fingers. It reminded her of walking barefoot on
moss in the woods. She tickled it with her tongue, tasting his sweat. It held
echoes of the deep berry wine taste of his mouth, and something earthier that
she couldn’t place. The room was growing warmer, and she felt sultry with the
heat of the candles and their two bodies. He squirmed beneath her tongue. She
planted tiny kisses down his stomach, dipping her tongue into his navel,
nipping at the soft flesh around it. It was the only soft part of his torso—for
all that he wasn’t built like a wrestler, his muscles were tight and his skin
taut and firm.
    She leaned back and rose from the bed. “I’ll be right back.”
Leaving him to moan with frustration, she filled a glass of water in the
bathroom. She took a quick peek in the mirror, smoothing out the purple lace
she wore, and noting her own flushed cheeks. She returned to the bedroom,
pulling out the watercolor set and a brush. Jaime hadn’t painted with
watercolors in years. It took her a moment to get the swirling motions correct
as she wet the brush and then the paints.
    She started with a dark purple to match her lingerie, and
because it was her favorite. Dionysus was smiling now around his makeshift gag.
She leaned over him, dripping wet paint across his chest. She didn’t even try
for a proper picture, but flicked it in an imitation of Jackson Pollack. When
the droplets touched his skin, he shivered. She left small splatters of purple
across his chest and down his stomach.
    Since Jaime knew she wouldn’t be able to paint over the
tattoos, she avoided them. Instead, she chose to complement them. The purple
captured the shadows in the ink. Next, she pulled out a light green. She ran
the brush lightly down his legs, painting quick sketches of leaves. She dipped
it under his cock and tickled his balls with the very tip of the brush. His
breathing grew heavy. She leaned up over him, skimming his torso with the
fabric covering her breasts, and pulled the gag out of his mouth.
    “Better?” she asked, and to her surprise instead of replying
he rose and captured her mouth with his own. She sunk down on top of him, still
holding the paintbrush delicately in one hand, and let him explore her mouth
with his tongue. His cock pressed into her bare thighs and she clasped it
between them, flexing the muscles and feeling him twitch between her