Another Stroke of Fate (The Carnal Exhibitions Book 2)

by LW Barefoot

  “Did you forget how to voice your refusal?” he asks in all seriousness.

  “I haven’t forgotten anything. You seem to be the one who forgot,” I accuse him.

  Evan

  Something dangerous just switched in the air around us. Everything was fine, more than fine until she slid off me. She couldn’t take me anymore and it drives me insane, but not, in the same way, Harper perceives. I loved watching how innocent she was trying to ride me. She’s never done that before.

  I pulled her off, but it was for her comfort. I wanted to lay her on her back and lick and stretch her tight muscles for my cock. I would have eaten her out all night and that would have been enough for me, but when she tries to take control I lose it. She almost gets it with a mouthful of my cum. She should have known by now that’s a one-way ticket to destruction with me.

  As she backs away from me, my dick shifts in response. I feel like I need to stop her, but my appetite for her distress is too powerful. I grip my belt as her shins bump against the table behind her.

  Whatever chase she gives into will be my undoing. I already have scenarios swirling in my imagination when the plantation is empty except for us.

  I should reach out and stop her from tempting my inner beast, but that’s what makes me such an ass because I won’t.

  Her challenging gaze gives away her sly game. That’s right, baby girl, I’m on to you.

  I follow her to the bathroom. Every purposeful move resonates deep within me as my fist pounds on the door and it crashes.

  Harper trembles. She knows she messed up, she knows better. I will have to teach her a lesson. One I hope never sticks and we can keep repeating the punishment.

  “Did you forget how to voice your refusal?” I ask, dead serious.

  “I haven’t forgotten anything. You seem to be the one who forgot,” she says with defiance and a straight spine.

  Her attention is rapt on my cock and the belt in my grasp.

  If one solitary tear slid down her cheek I would stop and walk away. I study her for a moment and catch the minute details of her excitement. Her eyes give her away, so do her thighs as they clamp together. Her nipples pebble and beckon to me. The tip of her pink little tongue licks her lips slightly as she watches my cock and I know she wants this, wants me.

  I think about her moaning and whispering my name as she slept last night and how desperate I was just to touch her again. And now she stands here and she teases me to hurt her.

  In the dark hours I’ve watched her sleep, a realization came to me. The Sculptor manipulated her causing false pleasure that didn’t translate with her. This recent trial she endured was nothing but pain. Two stark contrasting realities. Where does that leave us? She needs pain and pleasure. We both might need the push and pull, but I silently swear to myself I will never take this gorgeous woman for granted. I will never push her to a breaking point.

  “Harper, are you sure you want this?” I ask.

  No amount of body language will ever give me the necessary permission.

  “Yes. Please don’t make me beg,” she pleads.

  I search her eyes until I’m satisfied. Her gaze is steady and she doesn’t falter. This is what she wants, this is what both of us want. Her gaze flashes with challenge.

  “God, you’re going to make me beg,” she whines, pushing her ass out to me.

  I cave to our deprivation. Raining hit after torturous, delicious hit on her sweet skin. My erection stays in her line of sight. She needs to see what she does to me; that this is her fault after all. The belt whistles through the air and some of her wetness slicks down her inner thighs when the leather meets her skin. It makes me insane, makes my mouth water with the loud slap when the leather takes up some of her moisture.

  I stand behind her, placing my cock against her swollen clit. Not trying to push into her, only threatening her with the promise of taking her. I feel her convulse with the slight contact.

  “Who’s in charge, Harper?”

  I strike her thigh with the belt as I warn her. Her greedy little pussy contracts on top of me.

  “You, Evan, ah…”

  She tries to push back but I pull away slightly. If she can torment me, I sure as hell will do it to her.

  “Say you’re sorry, Harper.”

  Her glowing eyes meet mine in the mirror. Her blush flushes from her cheeks to the tops of her generous tits.

  “I’m sorry, Evan. I didn’t mean to take over…I just ache…and only you can fix it.”

  Fuck. That’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard. It’s even better because it fell off her tongue. Her swollen lips pout.

  “Tell me what you need,” I demand.

  “Evan, please. I’m begging, let me come.”

  I answer her plea as I circle her with the tip of my cock, never entering her grasping, greedy pussy. It takes every ounce of my control and sanity to not shove my way in her tight little cunt. It begs for me, but I need for her to derive blissful pleasure after I just punished her.

  I feel her muscles spasm as I pull her harshly against me. She grasps my hard cock and rubs it between her slick folds. She cries out and moans. Rubbing her herself all over my straining erection, never entering her. I pick her up, allowing her to focus on working her way to orgasm, relieving her legs from standing for too long.

  It’s better this way. She’s finally grasping her sexuality.

  Harper’s fair skin flushes the most delicious shade of rapture. I feel her convulse as her entire body’s painted pink. She cries out and I’m on the verge of losing my mind.

  Our eyes meet in the mirror, her chest moves up and down, gasping to catch her frantic breath. Her hand stills on me not making a move.

  I pull her around to meet my lips and kiss her in desperation. She moves around me, wrapping her legs around my waist as I carry her back to the bedroom.

  Our lips fight and praise and suck each other in.

  Harper

  I just witnessed myself become uncontrollable.

  There isn’t a shred of embarrassment present, instead, I feel him twitch, begging to enter me. But Evan keeps himself restrained, eyes dancing with exposed desire. The shattering orgasm does nothing to quench my ravenous thirst.

  Evan kisses me and it feels like he’s thanking me for giving him a gift. But I’m the one who got swept up in a selfish single-minded race for release.

  He sits on the edge of the bed and keeps my legs wrapped around his waist.

  “Let’s try this again, shall we?”

  His eyebrow kicks up on his handsome face. Hands grip my thighs and he lifts me. Once again, I hover above his impressive form. He nods at me, silently granting me permission to slide down on his throbbing cock. It’s still a tight fit, but I’m wet and hot. I’m burning up. His heated stare makes it easier for me to lose inhibitions.

  My desperate need to please him pushes me to grind down, past the discomfort.

  My inner voice taunts me, telling me that’s exactly what I was begging for only moments ago.

  His hands palm my reddened ass cheeks. Smoothing over the heated skin as I ride him. Up and down, I swivel my hips, paying close attention to what he likes best. His eyes are rapt on where our bodies are joined. From this angle, it’s downright sinful. The tight muscles of his abs contract with sharp ridges. He gently massages my backside, pushing me back on him when I lift up.

  I set a pace that has him groaning. Finally figuring out how to move in this position, leaning forward, angling my hips.

  With a guttural moan, his head falls back. I lean forward to lick up his chest and pull off him a little. My sensitive clit rubs on his cock and I can no longer contain the lusty sounds that escape me.

  His hips take over as he starts to thrust up, using his left arm to push me down on him. He pinches my clit so hard I scream.

  Evan flips me on my back and stands between my legs. Finally. The sudden change of positions and his absence inside of me has my orgasm receding.

  He pl
aces my legs on his shoulders and enters me again. Forceful in his movements, fucking me unapologetically. His hips rhythmically drive me in the mattress as he increases the tempo. He captures the scream from my chest as I start to detonate once more.

  Our lips battle as he buries himself to the hilt. Impaling me and stretching me beyond my boundaries.

  Evan surrounds and dominates every space of my awareness. His teeth go to that familiar place on top of my shoulder he loves sinking into. I moan in release as he bites down on the muscle, sending my core spasming around him.

  I scale my nails down his muscular back, my fingertips taking in his sweat. I feel like we could set the sheets on fire with the friction of our bodies. Our desperate need to claim and fuck and let go with each other is alarming.

  He licks my lips again as I feel his orgasm. I cup his ass and shove him harder into me. I welcome his undoing, wanting him to let loose with me. Heated lips slip and slide across my own bruised ones.

  We come apart together. Our tongues sweep lovingly across each other. I read too much in the exchange. It feels as if he missed me as much as I’ve missed him.

  When the sun rises, I will have to face the music.

  I know Tom’s here for a reason and not only to check on my wellbeing. I want to disappear with Evan, but that would make me the coward I am. Whatever happened to that beaten woman weeks ago emerged better and stronger than she ever thought she could be or would need to be for that matter. I still have so much to work on, so much to confront, but right now I need to escape in Evan’s warm arms and dream peaceful dreams.

  “Now, will you let me hold you?” he whispers against the shell of my ear as our hearts kiss against our chests.

  I smile against his skin and nod.

  The orgasms were only the beginning of my bliss. Evan’s arms lock tightly around me and he spoons me from behind. His lips brush so lightly against my skin I fall asleep floating on waves of ecstasy and a sleep so deep nothing could interrupt it.

  The Sculptor’s Confrontation

  I’m not in the mood for another painting session, especially one with Jessica. The belt around her neck should have ended any and all interactions.

  The fantasy of her throat belonging to someone else only left me disjointed when I let up my grip and Jessica pulled off my cock. I needed to see lust, desperation, need when I jerked her head up, but her eyes glazed over in triumph. The look of control that floated over her features was enough to contain any ideas of ever using her in that way again. I prefer blowjobs to come with regret by the person administering the task.

  The little bitch played me and now she stands in my gallery with another woman behind her. The first session Jessica was apprehensive and almost insecure. Now she’s confident, so sure of herself, but I’m not in the mood to deal with her.

  The other woman locks the door and twists around the ‘closed’ sign.

  “What do you want?” I demand.

  “You didn’t miss me?”

  Jessica simpers, swaying her hips. The absence of her curves makes the motion look immature. I turn my attention back to the computer. My accounting logs are more interesting than anything about her.

  “I don’t know what you’re up to, but clearly you didn’t understand how unmotivated I was by you last time, now I’ll just be blunt about it. You and your friend together don’t interest me.”

  The stranger touches Jessica’s arm and halts her from moving any further before addressing me.

  “No. You see, we’ve been looking for you for some time now. I’m quite relieved to have finally found you. I’m such a fan of your work.”

  She plants her feet and stares down at me.

  “I’m not interested in anything you could offer me.”

  I don’t play games and I don’t want any part of what these two women are about.

  “Even if it’s someone who looks eerily similar to the model that’s painted all over your studio?” she asks.

  For the first time in five years, I feel as if my heart starts to pump again.

  I was so determined to conjure up Casey’s lips I paid little attention to Jessica and what she took in.

  “What makes you think I would be interested?” I ask.

  “Like I said, we’ve been looking for you. In all my research on you, I couldn’t find one piece that was even close to as beautiful as the paintings in your studio.”

  Jessica swerves to take a seat on one of the chairs, the other woman stays standing.

  “And you think I would be interested in someone who looks like the one and only person adorning those private walls?”

  Breathe in, breathe out. It could be a trick.

  My portraits never alluded to any one individual. Casey’s the only person I’ve wanted exactly as she was. I was reverent in my techniques to emulate her as close to the real thing.

  I’ve been so arrogant all this time, leaving those clues on the wall, even in the privacy of my studio. The only people allowed in there are models, all completely shallow, so fucking shallow. The only thing in the world they care about are themselves, each and every one of them.

  Jessica was the same but her friend here is different, she would definitely notice. And the only means of how her eyes have seen what decorates those studio walls is her cock sucking friend, Jessica.

  “Oh, I know you would. Although, she’s no longer blonde.”

  Jessica stares up at her in pure adoration.

  “Interested, now?” she pushes.

  “Go on,” I instruct her.

  My palms are sweaty as my pulse speeds up.

  “She’s a problem for me. A huge problem, to be honest,” she admits, petting Jessica’s hair in a possessive manner.

  “That’s why I need you,” she admits.

  “Couldn’t you get her out of the way yourself?” I ask.

  It takes some serious money and motivation to track me down and I need to know how she accomplished the task. My past transgressions would put me six-feet-under in no time if the wrong people found me.

  “I already tried that, but it didn’t work. She has what’s mine wrapped around her little finger.”

  What the fuck?

  “It has to be Casey if you want my help. Not some clone, not an imposter. It has to be her.”

  I’m growing impatient. Even speaking her name after so long without hearing it excites me.

  “May I?” the taunting stranger asks as she pulls a phone out of her pocket and approaches my desk.

  I nod in answer.

  “Look past her hair color,” she mutters.

  If it were possible for my heart to explode, it would have. I stare at my long lost little victim, but it couldn’t possibly be her. I watched her kill herself, that was the only reason I left her in the first place.

  “I need more proof than that. I watched Casey die.”

  “How do you think I connected the dots back to you?”

  She snaps her fingers at Jessica, motioning for her to come stand in front of her. She grabs a marker from my nearby desk.

  “Take your shirt off,” she instructs Jessica.

  She unbuttons her jeans and pushes them down with her panties.

  “I’ve only seen them once,” she explains.

  Uncapping the marker, she starts marking Jessica’s exposed torso.

  Grief, sorrow, and heartache vanish from my very existence. Those burdens crash on the floor as this stranger steps away from Jessica’s body. The marks on her match what Casey’s would look like. My brand, my one and only, my everything. The Roman numeral few people knew I carved, stands in mock salute on Jessica’s right pelvis, along with what would be Casey’s self-inflicted stab wounds.

  “Where is she?” I struggle to get the question out.

  My voice never giving away the mix of emotions coursing around my empty soul.

  “I can’t give away the only hand I have left to play. We have things to discuss, agreements to make.”

  She smiles as if she�
�s won and in a way she has. At this point, I am willing to do anything she asks if it gets me what I yearn for most.

  “If you know who I am, what I’ve done, and what I could possibly do to you, why are you toying with me?” I demand.

  “Because we’re all you’ve got and your motives aren’t mindless. You wouldn’t risk popping up on the radar unless it was worth it.”

  “Are you my copycat?”

  I’ve been waiting for some clue to turn up, something the media would report proving that the murder in Boston wasn’t my doing.

  “Maybe…I could easily pin your other crimes on the new murderer. We could work together. I cover for you and you get that little slut away from my fiancé for good. He’s not thinking rationally and he wants to keep her. By doing so, he’s fucking us both out of a mess load of money.”

  Her words and insinuations make me ill. My long lost love is fucking someone else. None of my training worked. None of my time and dedication sunk into her. She was a fucking virgin and I should have been the only one to have the privilege to bury myself in her, mind and body.

  This cunning stranger keeps talking as I picture a redheaded Casey getting fucked by someone other than me.

  “I need to make sure you don’t harm my future, my plans. I found you to fix a very big problem and it hasn’t been cheap, so you owe me,” she states.

  Her hand interlocks with Jessica’s as if now questioning her decision to seek me out. Both women gain false strength from each other.

  “All I want is Casey.”

  All I’ve ever wanted was her. I almost let that small admission slip, but this stranger already knows my truth.

  It’s as if we’re playing a deadly game of poker. Both of us put up a front and try to deceive the other while striving to win the upper hand.

  “What will it take for you to trust me?” she asks.

  Now she’s full out nervous and she should be when making a deal with the devil.

  “Your name for starters,” I request.

  Something so simple, yet I would find her if she betrays me and she sees that.