by J. J. Sorel
“Wait.” I moved my body.
“What are you doing?” Aidan asked.
“I’m returning the favor,” I said, repositioning myself.
“Mm… breakfast for two,” he murmured into my thigh as his tongue slithered up to that magical, supersensitive spot.
As his tongue supped on me, his cock stretched my mouth wide.
Mm… delicious.
I floated off to creamy heaven.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
I couldn’t believe the progress. It was hard to fathom that it had only been three weeks since we started the art classes.
Shaking my head in wonder, I moved from easel to easel.
The teacher, Chris Wilde, who’d turned out to be a fantastic choice, had managed to inspire fifty students into the art program. All crammed into a space that I’d allocated for half that number. I hadn’t expected such enthusiasm for the program.
Unsurprisingly, most of the students were female.
The male participants, however, surprised me the most with their gut wrenching, visceral works. There were, predictably, military subjects along with a panoply of styles and subjects. All unique.
One of the pieces that caught my eye was so provocative and masterfully produced that I gasped. It depicted a naked man with a gun for a penis, ejaculating blood. Despite the subject being frightful, I couldn’t stop staring at it.
Chris watched me with a glint of pride and amusement. My heart palpitated with impatience. I couldn’t wait for Aidan to see it.
The art was as varied as the people who produced it. They were a motley bunch of talented people, all of whom had some form of PTSD. There were seascapes, landscapes, and portraits among some very soluble abstract, modernist pieces that could have adorned any corporate lobby wall.
“These are incredible, Chris. And in such a short time,” I gushed.
Fisted hands resting on his hips, Chris’s sleepy eyes drank me in. With his cavalier swagger and brazen self-confidence, I imagined he often got the girl.
Chris was in his mid-thirties, his hair was messy in a sexy, couldn’t-care-less kind of way. With a longish face and a slightly out-of-shape nose that stopped him from looking pretty, he reminded me of Kurt Cobain.
He was so restless that sparks flew off his skin. Or so it almost seemed. His large, bloodshot blue eyes, unable to rest on one spot for long, seemed constantly to be searching for something. Chris did, however, linger on my face, with a little tour of my body every now and then when he thought I wasn’t watching. I was his boss, after all.
If I hadn’t lost my heart to Aidan, I could’ve imagined being a little fascinated. Mainly due to his talent, which was awe inspiring. I recalled my jaw dropping when I looked at his portfolio. Its contents ranged from images that were so finely executed that they were photo perfect to wild, unabashed flights of color and passionate brushstrokes. It was conceivable that his work, as he claimed, hung on the walls of elite collectors.
I couldn’t believe that Chris Wilde needed to moonlight as a teacher. He was prodigious in his output. All of which, according to him, and unsurprisingly, had sold.
There was something in his blue eyes that rang with menace, however. To say he had a roving eye would be an understatement, for his gaze would start at my eyes and travel all the way down to my feet and back again.
The fact he didn’t hide his attraction for me made me shudder at the thought of Aidan meeting him. But his talent as an inspirational teacher far outweighed any sleazy tendencies. The women in the class were all starry eyed. And I’m sure he’d already bedded one or two of them.
I didn’t care. The results were eye watering and heart pumping. I sensed that many of the artworks would sell at auction. Particularly my favorite, the painting titled ‘Cock-slinger Freak.’
I had to go back for a second look.
Chris held his chin and studied it with me. “It’s my favorite,” he said.
“Yeah, I think for me too, even though it’s really dark and seedy.”
His lips curled into a wry grin. “Yeah, one could describe it as that considering its sexual connotations.” His tone had a sardonic edge.
Mm… was he mocking me? I couldn’t tell. Was he being all supercilious? Presuming I didn’t have a brain between my ears?
Just another reminder of the many things I loved about Aidan. He was so respectful of my views. He hung on my every word, often praising me. And of course, being pathologically self-deprecating, I didn’t feel I deserved it.
Aidan made me out to be a super intelligent individual. I loved that. Because at the end of the day, that was who I wanted to be, not just some girl with big boobs that men wanted to bed. At least, I needed to be treated as an equal.
I continued to analyze the painting regardless of that smirk on his face. “I like the macabre nature of the work. The fact that the subject’s headless depersonalizes it. The monochromatic use of gray, along with his masterful approach to chiaroscuro, makes the red stand out. The perspective is so well executed that it looks like the blood is shooting out at the viewer.”
His eyes lit up with surprise. “Have you studied art?”
I nodded. “I majored in art history. Nineteenth-century neo-classical mainly, but I’ve devoted my life to looking at all kinds of art.”
Chris studied me for a moment, then shifted his attention back to the painting. “It’s a cool way to express blood lust. The concept of grouping violence, guns, and sex together is a theme prevalent in modern society. As often seen in movies.”
“True,” I said. His piercing blue eyes burrowed deeply into mine. I was instantly drawn into the romance of art philosophy, despite being there to discuss business.
“What drew you to art, Clarissa?” Chris stood so close I could smell the tobacco on him.
“I always liked drawing and painting as a child. It was mainly my parents’ influence. My mother painted.”
“Right. That’s a standard experience, I suppose for most artists. Not mine. So, what draws you to art now that you are no longer that girl?”
My brow creased. I’m still that girl.
“Art presents one with the unbridled freedom to take the mundane and make it fantastical.”
“Good answer, very textbook. I might use it if you don’t mind.” His eyes changed from playful to dark and probing.
Sweat dripped between my shoulder blades.
“So, Clarissa Moone, what do you do when the night falls?”
My face contorted with such surprise that his smirk widened into a smile.
“I… look, Chris, I’m with Aidan Thornhill. He’s my partner. He’s making all this happen. You’ll meet him soon, I hope.”
He studied me for a moment. “I’m not trying to seduce you. I was just curious, that’s all.” He clapped his hands together and changed back to professional mode, much to my relief. “Do you think we can set up another room? As you can see, it’s a bit crammed in there.”
“There’s another space at the back. It’s a little darker. Not as much natural light.”
“We can work with that, I think,” he said.
“Aidan’s away at the moment. He’s due back at the end of the week. Can we set up a time for him to come and meet you? He wants to see what’s happening.”
He shrugged. “Sure. Just let me know, and I’ll make the time. I like this set up. It’s fresh. Untainted by college mentality. As you put it so eloquently—full of unbridled freedom.” His lips squeezed a smile.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
After I parked the car, my phone buzzed. It was Aidan.
“Hey, Princess. What are you up to?”
“I just got back from the VHC art classes.”
“Did James take you?”
I grit my teeth. “Um… no.”
“Clarissa! I won’t have you driving alone. Not with Bryce about.”
My heart sank. “What?”
“Yeah, I’m seriously pissed. Some fucker bailed him out.”
&
nbsp; “But how? I mean…”
“Listen, Clarissa, you must promise me you’ll call James whenever you need to go out. He’s there on standby to take you anywhere you want. Promise me.” His voice was harsher than normal.
“Okay, Aidan. I promise.” I took a breath. Aidan put me on edge with his abrasiveness. But I got it. He was trying to protect me. “Hey, I’m dying to show you the art produced so far. I photographed some of it. I’ll send it to you in a few moments. It’s really impressive, Aidan.”
“Really? That’s super,” he said.
“There are at least thirty works that are sellable. There’s one that’s really amazing in a dark, psychological way.”
“Princess, I’m excited.”
“So am I, Aidan.”
“I have to go. Until tomorrow, my love.”
“Yes, I can’t wait to see you. I miss you.”
“I miss you too, sweetheart.”
I could hear his breathing.
“Are you still there, Aidan?”
“Yeah, I am. I’m just wondering if you’ve got an answer for me, yet.”
“I might have.”
“Now you’re being all enigmatic, Clarissa.”
I giggled. “I must have caught it from you.”
“Ha ha. Just wait till I see you.”
“I can’t wait, Aidan.”
I walked back to the cottage, thinking about Aidan’s pressing question.
I’d thought of nothing else. The idea of being with Aidan forever sent a warm shiver all the way to my soul. My pesky mind, however, kept reminding me it was way too soon.
Predictably, Tabitha had pounded my ear the previous night about accepting Aidan’s proposal. One thing was for certain: I needed to speak to my father about it first.
It was such a nice afternoon that I decided to sit outside. Staring down at my phone, I scrolled through the pictures of the students’ artworks so that I could send some to Aidan.
I heard steps and looked up. Greta stood before me.
“Hey, Greta.”
“How did you go at the VHC with the new teacher? Is he settling down well?”
“Oh, really well. God, Greta, you should see the progress. I was truly amazed.”
Her eyebrows drew in sharply. “Really? So soon?
I smiled. “That’s what I thought. I seriously didn’t expect to see what I saw.”
I lifted my phone. “Take a look at some of these.” I moved under the shade of the tree so that the images were easier to view.
I started off with some of the seascapes and prettier images.
Greta nodded. “They’re terrific, aren’t they?”
“They sure are.” I scrolled down to Cock-slinger Freak, and not surprisingly Greta, flinched.
“Uh… that’s intense.”
“It is. And to be honest, I was expecting a few more like that, considering their backgrounds.”
“That’s true. Do you think these are sellable?”
“Very.”
Greta smiled. “Good. This is going better than I anticipated. I must admit I wasn’t expecting that many this soon.”
“Likewise. At this stage, Greta, I envision an auction, or at least an exhibition in about a month.”
“Gee, that soon?” Greta looked impressed. “What’s the teacher like?”
“He’s a pretty amazing artist,” I stammered.
Greta’s brows knitted. She could read me like a book. “But?”
I shrugged. “He’s just a bit edgy. Kind of typical, really, for a painter. They often are.”
“Edgy in a good way?”
“Mm… maybe. I don’t know him that well. The work speaks for itself, though, don’t you think so?”
She nodded pensively.
Then, changing the subject, she said, “Tomorrow night, your father and I were hoping that we could meet for dinner with both you and Aidan. I’ve spoken to Aidan. He said it would be fine for him. He just wanted me to check with you.”
“Yeah, great. I haven’t caught up with Dad for a while. I mean, I see him every day, but he’s so preoccupied with the library.”
“Same here, Clarissa. He’s like that with me. But I’m happy.” She smiled brightly.
She was happy. And my father was also happy. And of course, I was happy.
In fact, life was great. Even if Bryce was free. I felt strangely invincible. It was amazing what love did to one’s frame of mind.
Lounging on the sofa, I was watching some inane and meaningless program on television when my phone sounded. Since the hour was late, I assumed it would be Aidan.
I picked up my phone, but when I noticed it said private, I responded with a quizzical, “Hello?”
“Clarissa Moone.” It was a male’s voice. He sounded drowsy, half asleep. “It’s Chris.”
“Chris?”
“Chris Wilde.”
“Oh,” was the best I could say.
“Hey, sorry it’s late.” He stretched his words as if he was drunk or drugged. “I just wanted to ring and apologize.”
“Apologize for what?” I asked.
“You know, for the way I acted today. I really came on a bit strong, maybe?”
“You were fine, Chris. There’s no need to apologize.”
“I suppose you’re used to it. You realize you’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever laid eyes on.”
“Thanks.” I couldn’t think of what else to say to that.
“Anyway, um… look, yeah…”
He was smashed. I was sure of it. “It’s all good, Chris. You sound as if you’re having a big night.”
“Not really. What gives you that impression?” He chuckled. “Just here alone in my little studio. Hey, Clarissa.”
“Yes?”
“Can I do some studies of you?”
“What, drawings?” Shit. Was he about to ask me to pose nude?
He laughed. “You should hear your voice. You’re a funny little girl. Innocent in many ways, but smart, really smart. Aidan Thornhill’s one hell of a lucky guy.”
I didn’t respond. I was still waiting for him to elaborate.
“Are you there?” He stammered.
“Yeah, I’m here.”
“A study, yeah, of your face. Some with your hair out. And some with it up, so I can capture that swan-like neck.”
Helped along by that drowsy bedroom voice, Chris made everything seem sexual.
“Do you mean for me to pose for you?”
“Mm… I’d like that.” He waited for me to respond. When I didn’t, he added, “Just your face. I’ll take a few photos and work on those if that’s okay with you and your…”
“And my?”
“Your beau,” he said with a chuckle.
While I contemplated this unusual request, it struck me that I could give a drawing of myself to Aidan.
“On one condition,” I said.
“And what’s that?”
“That you let me buy one.”
“I’ll give you one. You don’t have to pay me. Think of it as a fee for letting me paint your pixie face.”
“Pixie face?”
“Yeah, a cheeky little fairy. Sweet, but something deep and darker looming…”
It was as if his words had run out of air. “Ha?” I asked.
He laughed. “A bit witchy…”
I was speechless.
“There’s something else I wanted to ask you.”
“What’s that?” I asked.
“It’s the main reason why I called. I nearly forgot.” He chuckled again. He was doing a lot of that. “I’m having an exhibition this Saturday night. I’d love you to come. Bring your friends, lovers, anyone, the more the merrier.”
“Aidan and I are meeting with my friend and her partner. I’ll put it to them. I’d love to see your work. Email the details to me.”
“I will, Clarissa Moone,” he said. “And…”
“Yes?”
“And, well, good night, then.”
“Y
es, Chris, good night.”
I put down the phone and twisted my face in bafflement. Was he stoned, drunk, or something else?
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
After a busy day arranging for more easels and supplies to be delivered to the VHC, I was just about to leave the office when Aidan strolled in.
His face was tanned and healthy. As always, my eyes zeroed in on his glistening blue eyes, framed by enviably long eyelashes.
Aidan wore a pale-blue, long-sleeved polo that showed off his strong physique.
My stomach fluttered, as it always did around Aidan. Would I ever stop swooning around him? Not if he continued to look like that, I thought.
“Hey, Princess.” He came toward me. His shapely lips curved up sweetly. “You’re working late?”
I stepped away from my desk. “I just finished then.”
“I’ve missed you,” he said, holding me and landing his moist lips on my neck.
“Me too.”
His lips crushed against mine, and my body went instantly into a fever. As he pressed against me, the heat from his body made me feel as if I would combust.
He pulled away. “Come with me, baby.”
I floated along. What else could a girl do?
“We’re meeting my father and Greta for dinner at seven, I believe,” I said as I stepped into his room.
Aidan, in a world of his own, unbuttoned my shirt. His eyes had that determined, hungry look that I recognized well.
“Mm… that should give me enough time to ravage you.”
His eyes had misted over as he unclasped my bra. My heavy breasts fell into his large hands. His moist, warm lips travelled down to my nipples, teasing them with his teeth and tongue.
He removed his pants, while I wiggled out of my skirt.
Our eyes locked.
Clasping my bottom, he drew me in close. His fingers hooked into my panties and ripped them off.
His fingers fluttered over my engorged bud. I writhed and moaned in his arms as he entered me with his finger.
“Clarissa, you feel amazing. You’re dripping wet and so ready.”
When he unclasped his hold, I nearly collapsed. He’d put me under his carnal spell again.
“Don’t move,” he said. Aidan headed to his turntable and took an album out of its cover. He grabbed a cloth and wiped it before placing it meticulously over the pin.
