40. Valerie

Chapter forty

Valerie

" I hope to never have that much vomit on my shirt again until I have children." I laugh as I stand. "But I'm glad you're feeling better, Papá. Let me get you some more water before we go."

" Grazie, Fiore Mio ."

"So, he was here?" I hear some females whisper as I'm filling up my papá's water jug. I look up and notice a blonde nurse I haven't seen before talking to another brunette. "Yes, this afternoon, and he's right there in room 202. He's so fucking hot."

I freeze and watch both of them walk towards the main nursing station where they have a perfect view of my papá's room and Ambrose as well.

What was he doing here this afternoon? I wonder as I head back to the room.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Papá." I kiss the top of his head.

"Have a good evening, Fiore Mio , good to see you again Ambrose."

"Likewise, Mr. Farina," Ambrose says, shaking my papá's hand.

An overwhelming sense of jealousy sits in my stomach and I grab Ambrose's hand as we're leaving the room. Without even flinching, he pulls me closer, lets go of my hand, wraps his arm around my shoulder and kisses the top of my head .

The smile on my face is probably comical because even though I initiated the physical contact, I never expected him to carry it through to this point.

"I'd invite you in but I heard there's a massive party happening at The Vice," I say as we pull up at my house.

"I'd love to come in," he says without skipping a beat. "Maybe we can order in and you can show me the commission you've been working on."

I swallow. I haven't been working on shit. I have all the supplies and the time now, since Ambrose told me to take leave for the next week, but I still have no inspiration or desire to do it right now.

It's easy enough to keep Ambrose distracted especially when I get him hooked on the action movies my papá and I are obsessed with and find out deep down he loves them almost more than I do, but after a few glasses of wine and an intense sex scene, I find myself rubbing my thighs together for any sense of relief as I cuddle into his side.

Half an hour of torture later, the movie draws to a close but my ever-oblivious boyfriend chooses then to focus on the stupid commission. "C'mon show me, I want to see what you've done." He pulls me to my feet.

As I lead him up the stairs, I can feel his eyes on my ass and I'm sure if I turn around I'd find myself to be correct.

"I haven't done too much with my papá getting sick," I say as I open the door. "But I've set up and started laying down some ideas."

His eyes widen as he takes in the two large canvases lying on the floor on top of a large piece of plastic. The paint buckets are placed, unopened, around it with brushes scattered all around as well. My multiple pages of research litter the floor with reference images galore.

"This is…"

"A mess?"

"I was going to say a lot." He rubs the small of my back gently as he walks further into the room. "It looks like you've done a ton of research but what exactly did the customer ask for?" Ambrose asks, his eyes meeting mine and I gesture for him to follow me to my laptop.

He leans on the back of my chair and suddenly I'm in a sauna. His body heat wraps around me and draws me in, his intoxicating scent rolling off him in waves every time he shifts behind me.

"They requested a replica of a Jackson Pollock painting, and that they want it to convey passion and to be abstract." I can feel Ambrose's breath brush against the back of my neck and I have to clench my thighs together as my mind fills with hundreds of dirty thoughts all from his simple action.

What is going on with me?

He's here to see the piece, I shouldn't be over-analyzing his every move no matter how much they seem to affect me.

"I mean I don't know much about art." His voice is right next to my ear. "But I know a thing or two about passion and it's something you have to feel in the spur of the moment. No overthinking." His hand is on my shoulder resting gently. "Just you and the art." He backs away leaving me practically panting.

"So let's start, you're gonna start painting and I'll sit here and watch."

"What?"

"Yeah, call me your personal passion professor. I'll discourage all your over-thinking."

"I have to change though, I'll get paint all over my clothes." I walk over to the centre of the canvas and stare at the blankness in front of me. It's overwhelming, so much open space, all still needing to be filled.

"Take it off." My head snaps up to him as his words register. "Changing is going to give you too much time to overthink," his voice says calmly.

He's sitting in the chair I was previously in. Slouching back, legs spread apart as he looks up at me with a challenging look.

"I can't paint in my underwear," I frown. The idea is borderline psychotic .

"Why not? You won't get paint on your clothes, and then it'll make this a lot more fun for me," he smirks. "Unless you'd prefer to sit with this overthinking and deal with it another time?"

"Fine, maybe I could use more help relaxing and getting submersed in the art."

"Good girl, now come over here and let me help you take that dress off." He gestures for me to come over with two of his fingers. As if they hold a string that controls me I walk towards him and do exactly as I'm told.

His fingertips grab the hem of my dress and he lifts it until it's around waist level before I pull it the rest of the way, revealing the matching set of pink lace underwear underneath.

"Fuck ," he breathes as he takes in every inch of my body, his eyes slowly grazing higher and higher, eventually coming up to meet my eyes. "Sei bellissima , You are so beautiful. Now get going." He slaps my ass and I jump at the sudden contact.

I want to whine about how I'm now expected to paint when the fabric between my legs is slick with arousal. My need for him grows every second as he sits there watching me.

"Can you help me with these cans?" I ask bending down to try and open one of them.

"If you keep bending over like that, I might think about leaving you to struggle."

"And I might think about finding a new boyfriend." I stand up and fold my arms across my chest. I know I don't look intimidating especially since I'm standing in front of him practically naked.

My words seem to be enough of a threat because within minutes, all the cans of paint are popped open and Ambrose is standing looming over me with a darkness in his eye that screams a lot more than lust.

He grabs my jaw, moving my face to meet his eyes. "I'm not a jealous man, Valerie, but for you, I'd burn the world. Do not threaten me with another man again," he says before roughly letting go of my face and turning back to the chair .

Without thinking, I dip my hand into the bucket of gold paint and flick it so half of it lands on the canvas and the rest of it splatters across the back of Ambrose's crisp, white shirt. He stops in his tracks and shakes his head. "Okay sweetheart if you want to make a mess, let's make a mess."

He spins around and stalks towards me, and instantly I start regretting my smart-ass attitude. Grabbing the backs of my thighs he lifts me so my legs wrap around his waist as he connects our lips. They move in sync for a short while until he begins fighting for dominance. A hard smack lands on the back of my ass and leaves me gasping, giving him the prime opportunity for his warm tongue to slip into my mouth.

My hand runs up his back and into his hair, gripping it lightly. "Oh shit," I pull back from the kiss and whisper, looking up at his hair covered in gold streaks. He looks like a Greek God and I have to stop the drool from leaving my mouth. "I'm so sorry-" and then his lips are on mine immediately, cutting my sentence short, silencing me.

Squatting down, he gently places me on the canvas. "How much weight can this thing take?" he asks frantically, his voice hoarse with need as he sits back on his haunches, working on undoing the buttons of his shirt. I reach up and help hoping to speed the process up.

"We should be good, just don't stand on the centre parts." The words are barely cold on my lips before he is on top of me again. His hips grind into mine while we both continue with the last few buttons. They come undone quickly, revealing his near-chiselled abs and the large array of tattoos perfectly on show. They are all like miniature artworks gracing his skin, each telling a different story. The more I see of them, the more I learn not only about the tattoos but also about Ambrose himself. He breaks the kiss to toss his shirt and it gives me the perfect opportunity to gawk at the stunning man in front of me.

"Pick a colour," he says, his voice rough with lust.

"Purple. "

His eyes scan the room before landing on the can above my head. A wicked smirk flashes across his face and he scoots back slightly before his lips drop to the hem of my panties.

My hands are immediately in his hair again, his lips start trailing wet kisses up my stomach and as he reaches the cusp of my breast he slips his hand behind my back to undo my bra swiftly. I try to push back every insecurity I've ever had as Ambrose's eyes nearly bulge out of his head. " Mio Dio , you're so fucking beautiful," he whispers against my chest like a prayer.

His lips envelop my hardened nipple causing my eyes to roll back. As he sucks down on the one, his other hand twists and flicks the other causing me to cry out in pleasure.

His kisses trail further up, grabbing both of my wrists, he pins them above my head. A coolness spreads down my hands and arms and I look up watching as Ambrose drips purple paint all down the length of my arm before his hand wraps around my throat and he grips me in place. The cool metal of his rings sears against my skin, contrasting the heat rising to my face.

"You won't be able to remember your name, let alone the idea of another man when I'm done with you," he says, eyes boring into mine before he connects our lips in a rough kiss.

His free hand reaches down between us, I'm completely oblivious to it until he starts to rub me through my panties, drawing out a throaty moan from me.

"You're so wet, sweetheart, is this all for me?" He asks as his hand slips under the damp fabric. His finger makes direct contact with my clit. I frantically reach for something, anything, to grab onto to stabilise myself and accidentally tip one of the smaller cans of red over. A mixture of a moan and a groan escapes from me as I'm filled with both frustration and pleasure all at once .

His finger entering me draws my eyes back to him. "Focus on me, I asked you a question sweetheart. Is this all for me?" Another finger enters and he starts pumping at an animalistic pace.

"Mmhhh-yes. Yes," I moan out.

"Sorry, I didn't get that, sweetheart, who's pussy is this?"

His thumb rubs against my clit and the friction feels heaven-sent. I grip onto his shoulders trying to pull him closer, wanting, needing more.

"Are you going to come, pretty girl?" His lips are next to my ear, gently sucking on the sensitive skin. His other hand, the one drenched in purple, grabs on my nipple and pinches. I can feel him everywhere, smell him everywhere and it's the most beautiful sensory overload I've ever felt in my life. I can feel the pleasure begin to build in my core as his lips lower to my neck.

"C'mon, tell me, sweetheart, who's pussy is this?"

"Yours," I moan out as my orgasm drowns me, pulling me under like a wave. Ambrose's fingers draw out the intense feeling until they slowly come to a stop, allowing me to come back down to Earth. I lay spent on the canvas and it isn't until I feel the canvas dip that I look up and notice Ambrose standing to remove his belt.

"Can I do it?" I ask, looking up at him. He stops his actions and nods. I look around and dip a stray brush in the teal, slowly I drag it across the canvas until I'm kneeling in front of him. "Sorry about your Prada suit." I fake a pout and smear the remainder of the purple paint on my hands all over his pants, grazing them up his legs until I reach the waistband. The thick print of his cock straining against the stiff fabric makes me shift nervously in my spot.

"It's Armani , but close enough, sweetheart."

I fiddle with the button and zipper but eventually manage to undo them and tug his pants down, as I reach for the waistband of his underwear he stops me.

"As much as I love how eager you are sweetheart, unless you bought edible paint, you may wanna keep it away from any major role players." I look down at both my hands covered in paint before figuring out he still has one hand untouched by the paint and I pout before flicking some paint up at him, splattering it across his chest.

"I've got this, Ambs," I smirk at him knowing how much he loves the nickname. Touching only the underwear I tug it down and an audible gasp leaves my lips as he steps out of both items of clothing. His cock springs up, hitting him against his stomach. His girth alone has my thighs clenching as I take in the true realisation of how big Ambrose's dick is.

"Take a picture, it'll last longer, sweetheart."

"Don't think I could forget this image even if I wanted to."

I place gentle kisses around his thigh, holding the backs of them for stability. "Can you hold your cock for me please, Ambs?" I ask and look up at him with the most innocent eyes I can muster given the circumstances.

"Fuck, sweetheart. Keep looking at me like that and I'll come right now." He reaches down and takes his dick in his hand, pumping it gently, clearly unsure as to why I asked him to.

"Lift it a bit." He does as I ask and I suck one of his balls into my mouth, a visceral growl leaves his throat followed by a trail of curse words as I lick up his shaft, his hand shifting according to my actions and as I reach the tip I bring into my mouth swirling my tongue around it before letting it out with a pop.

"Okay you can let go now," I smile and start to take him into my mouth, his hand covered in paint grips into my hair guiding me further and further down on his cock.

"Fuck sweetheart, just like that. You look so beautiful taking my dick so well," he says, his eyes watching me intently. Hollowing out my cheeks, I suck him in further and muttered Italian curse words slip from his lips and he pulls me off him. I stare at him with a frown.

"If I'm coming anywhere tonight sweetheart it's inside you, not in your mouth." He reaches down with his clean hand and wipes a trail of spit still connecting my mouth to his dick. "Such a pretty mouth."