Anne Wade looked around her studio with a sense of mingled joy and frustration. For almost two years a big New York gallery had been begging her to send them some large sculptures, promising her they’d make them into a special exhibition if she did. With the arrival of the Hot Springs Transportation Company in her home town, Pine Corner, she’d dusted off the illustrations she’d designed, and was working flat out to sculpt the pieces.
Bronx Montaine, the manager of the transportation company, had promised her that he’d clear a full week in his schedule to deliver her pieces to the gallery. The date they’d penciled in for the road trip was at the end of the month. More than three weeks away. She’d need two or even three full days to crate up her pieces, wrapping them carefully for the journey, and another day to fill in all the paperwork.
Which left her a little over two weeks to finish the sculptures.
Four of the pieces were finished, standing in her studio, and looking magnificent. Well, she thought they were magnificent. Who knew what the art critics would think?
The fifth piece was almost finished. It was at the stage where she liked to leave a work for a week or so and then look at it again critically before making any final changes to it.
The sixth was—hmm. Was what? Begun? In process? Stalled?
And now, after she finally had her big chance to make a name for herself and earn serious money, the gallery had asked her to bring her work in at least a week ahead of time. Not because they were altering the dates of the exhibition, or to give her more publicity, but simply because their staff were going to be “very busy” the following week.
Well the staff should have been busy the following week. Busy with her exhibition. Now she had to wonder if her work was going to get sidelined and overlooked because of the gallery’s busyness.
Well shit. And she had this unfinished piece as well and no idea which direction she needed to take with it.
Although she worked in bronze, the copper was so expensive she cast the piece first in plaster and only poured the bronze after a buyer had chosen the piece. Well, usually. In this case the expense was all hers. The New York gallery wasn’t interested in a bunch of plaster models. They only wanted the bronze statues. Which was fine, except this one just didn’t want to come to life. And her time to think and let it develop in her head had been cut short.
Anne walked around her studio, running her hands over the finished sculptures. They were her best work. If the critics didn’t like them, well, too bad. She knew she couldn’t have done any better with them.
But damn, it was a hell of a lot of money to be riding on a single exhibition, even if it was in a top New York gallery.
Anne sat at her drawing desk. For the sixth sculpture she’d started with a man bending over a stream, but the man was turning into a tree. Parts of him were human, like his head, and parts of him weren’t. His legs had become the tree trunk and his feet the roots. On paper it worked. In plaster, not so much. Now she couldn’t decide whether he was a man or a tree. Her charcoal sketches looked really good. He was neither one nor the other, yet both. But how to turn her idea into a three-dimensional physical sculpture eluded her.
“Er, excuse me. Ma’am?”
Anne jumped up, turning swiftly as a voice spoke from the doorway behind her.
He was youngish, her age probably, with curly brown hair and hazel eyes. She narrowed her own eyes at him and assessed his build. He’d be perfect for her troublesome bronze. The local teenagers she hired to help her lift her pieces and do other odd jobs were much too young and gangling for her imagination, but someone older, with some hardened muscles and broader shoulders, would be ideal.
“Take off your shirt.”
“What?” His voice came out as a squeak just as if he had been one of the Pine Corner teenagers. But she knew he wasn’t a local. She had no idea what he was doing here in Pine Corner or at her studio but maybe, just maybe, his body was what she needed to finish this piece.
“Take your shirt off. Now. Please.”
He gave her rather a deer-in-the-headlamps look, but did as she said, remaining in the doorway of her studio and removing his T-shirt.
She waggled her fingers at him saying, “Come in. I won’t bite. I need to look at your muscles, the line of your back. She picked up one of her charcoal sketches and held it out to him. “Stand like that.”
He stared at her, then at the picture, before shaking his head, which made his curls bounce. And then, finally he put a hand on his hip and leaned forward, as she’d drawn her man-tree.
Anne snatched up her sketchpad and a stick of charcoal, walking around the stranger, sketching the line of his back, the tilt of his hip, the way his hand bent as he rested it. When she put it beside her original sketch she laughed. “That’s the problem. Right there. The arch goes out, not in.”
“Huh?” Her unwitting model looked up at her then stepped over to see the pictures.
She didn’t know whether he understood the difference or not, but to her it was clear. Now she could finish her plaster model and cast her bronze. Hopefully still in time to meet her new, sooner deadline.
“I’m Anne Wade. Were you looking for me?”
And then what little ability to think she’d been able to assemble disappeared as both men swooped on her, undressing her and laying her flat on the bed. She watched as they both stripped off their clothes and she once again admired their bodies. “I want to draw you both.”
“Yes, you can, but not tonight,” answered Cody. She liked that he’d been the one to speak. But then, she’d already sketched his back. His front would be even more interesting.
Carson walked over to the corner of the room and rummaged around in a duffle bag bringing out a tube of lube and a box of condoms. That was further evidence of the Dom in him. He’d gotten as far as planning to go to bed with her on this trip. Well, it was all good with her so far.
“Lie on your back, Cody, and Anne, you crouch over him on all fours,” said Carson.
Smiling at the way he was giving orders, Anne did as she was told. Cody reached up and grasped her breasts in his hands, sliding his fingers over her skin and teasing her nipples. “Oh, yes,” she said. And then she shuddered as Carson’s slippery finger breached her ass. Carson lubed the entry and then spent a lot of time teasing just around the inside of the rim, gradually softening all her tissues and widening her opening. Meanwhile Cody teased and tormented her breasts, elongating and pinching her nipples until her cunt was once again dripping with cream.
“Oh, God, I want to come.”
“Soon,” said Carson soothingly. She realized he had more than one finger inside her now, and she was consciously trying to push her breasts up into Cody’s hands and her ass back into Carson’s fingers. A huge orgasm was coiled low in her belly and if someone just shoved their fingers in her cunt she’d come for sure. She managed to hold on, but sweat was beading on her spine and the urgency building inside her wouldn’t be contained for much longer.
When Carson said, “Lie on him, Anne. Cody, you can enter her now,” she heaved a sigh of relief. Anne sat on his thighs, as Cody held his cock at her pussy entry and then she pushed down over him, loving the way he forced her tissues apart until he was deep inside her. She sat down on him hard and the climax burst through her, shaking her whole body.
Cody pulled her flat over him, holding her tightly as she shook, and kissed her lips sweetly.
“You sure know how to torture a man,” he said.
“Sorry.” But she wasn’t. Even though she’d just had a huge climax she wanted to be fucked and she knew she’d come again, and probably come harder than ever.
Cody kept his hands on her back and she realized that for all his gentle tentativeness he was damn strong. Anne was no weakling. She was a sculptor for fuck’s sake, used to wielding heavy tools, and molding plaster. Yet he held her to his body easily, gently, but with authority. She liked that he was tender yet firm. It demonstrated to her his care for her in the way he didn’t misuse his superior strength.
And then she lost all ability to think as Carson opened her ass cheeks and pressed his cock at her back door. He pushed steadily and firmly against her tight muscle ring, and his cock popped through the entry, sliding deep inside her. Her body was full with Cody in her cunt. He was a big man who stretched her pussy wide. Yet now Carson was pressing deep into her ass, filling that channel and stretching it fully open. Her tissues expanded wider and wider until both men were clasped tight against her sensitive walls, their cocks held in her innermost core, and both men’s arms were wrapped around her. She was totally, completely, and utterly theirs, inside and out. It was an incredibly heady emotion and she reveled in it.
When both men gradually withdrew from her, Anne thought her body would explode from the sexual tension, but as they pushed right back in again and the excitement cranked up another notch, she understood the power of anticipation. With every thrust they made into her she was desperate to come, but each time they pulled out she understood she was capable of taking more, wanting more, needing more.
Soon she was whimpering, begging, wiggling frantically to find the most exciting angle for them to penetrate her. Yet both men maintained a constant yet slowly increasing pace, as they pounded in and out of her together.