Death Muse

She arched, cat-like. “Armand, paint me.”

He stood at his canvas, hard for her, blood heavy in his veins.

“Lay your brush over my skin.”

He coated the largest brush in alizarine crimson. He knelt. She slid her hands against his flesh, into his curling dark hair.

He bathed her in red until she shimmered like a naked organ. When she cried for him, he thrust his cock into her. She took the paintbrush in her mouth and he fucked her until her gasps became whimpers became choking; until she was gone.

He held her, kissed her painted tongue, and followed her, the linseed thick in his throat.

2 thoughts on “Death Muse

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s