by Sadie Grey
His eyes watched the movement intently. I could see the hunger in them, and I could feel his desire like a living thing, pulsing in the space between us.
I smiled at him innocently.
“Should I take the skirt off too?” I asked playfully.
“Please,” he whispered.
I laid back and lifted my hips off the cushion. My hands found the zipper and slid the bunched up skirt down my hips and off my legs. My back was arched as I did it, giving him a great view of my petite pink panties that barely covered my sex. They were my favorite pair. The ones I saved for special occasions. I paused for a moment in that position to let him see me in them before settling my hips back down on the cushion.
I watched him watching me. Turning him on was turning me on. An intense heat was building between my legs and I felt myself getting wet. I closed my eyes and traced the top of my panties with my fingertips.
“These too?” I asked.
His shadow fell over me and I opened my eyes. He stood above me, just a black silhouette against the light. I couldn’t see his eyes, but I could feel them gazing at me. He knelt down beside me. I half sat up from the cushion. He put his hand on my arm, close to my breast.
I breathed in sharply. “Dominic,” I said.
“Shh. Just relax.”
He pushed me gently back onto the cushion. “Wait,” I said.
“No talking,” he said. “And try not to move.”
His fingers touched my chin and nudged it gently to the side, facing away from the light. His hand grabbed mine and crossed it over my chest, placing it over one of my breasts. His movements were smooth and sure, and every time I felt his skin touch mine, my body tingled with delicious sensation.
His hands caressed my knee as he lifted it gently so that my leg was bent. He ran his hands over my other leg as he straightened it out at an angle. I didn’t want him to stop at the knee. I wanted his hands to keep moving up my thigh and between my legs where I was beginning to ache.
His hands left my body and disappointment surged through me. I mourned the loss of his touch.
He stood up and disappeared from view. I wanted to see where he was going but I didn’t dare move my head from the pose he had positioned me in.
I lay in silence, feeling delightfully exposed. My body was painted in shadow and light. I knew he was watching me. And somehow, not being able to see him as he watched turned me on even more.
I had not come here for this. He had not hired me for this. But now that I was here, all I wanted was to be in his arms, to kiss his lips, and to fuck him senseless until neither one of us could move.
I forced myself to keep still. Or mostly still. I moved my hand over my breast ever so slightly, grazing my nipple with my palm and feeling the electricity arc through me with even that mild touch.
My body was filled to bursting with need. I wanted to make him feel like he was making me feel. To inflame his desire until he was overcome with the madness of it. Until we were swept up in it like a tidal wave.
I began to shift my hips subtly. Just enough to catch his attention. Just a slight gyration that would draw his eyes to the silky spot between my spread legs.
A hitched breath sounded in the darkness. I smiled. I began to knead my breast with my hand. Subtlety flew out the window along with my inhibitions. There was no doubt about what I was doing. My hips moved faster, grinding at the air. It was an invitation.
I sensed his approach. My head turned and he was there beside me. He lifted me to my feet in one smooth motion and drew me into his arms. Half his face was hidden in shadow, but his eyes bored into mine. I could see the longing burning there.
He kissed me and I kissed back. His lips were soft and gentle but insistent. I put my hand on his firm chest and felt his heart racing. It matched the beating of my own heart.
His fingers caressed my cheek then slid down my neck and down my spine, making me dizzy with excitement.
He wrapped his hands around my waist. I kissed him deeper, sliding our warm tongues together. His fingertips trailed up my side and lightly grazed the side of my breast. I moaned my pleasure into his mouth. He cupped my breasts fully and circled my nipples with his thumbs. He pinched them hard, causing me to gasp as the delicious feeling of pleasure and pain rippled through me.
His lips kissed my neck and I breathed in that intoxicating citrusy scent of him. My fingers tugged at his undershirt and we broke apart just long enough to get it over his shoulders and off of him.
We pressed against each other, flushed skin on flushed skin. I could feel the length of him pressing into me. The tidal wave had crashed on top of us and the current was sweeping us away. We were helpless against it.
I fumbled with his zipper and slipped his jeans down his hips.
His hands cupped my ass and kneaded my flesh, causing the throbbing between my legs to intensify. My hips pushed into his, grinding and rocking against the hard warmth of him, separated only by the thin cloth of my damp panties and his boxers.
His hot breath panted in my ear. He slipped a hand down between my legs and stroked me through the silk with a thick finger. I cried out and tilted my head back. His lips grazed my neck. My hips worked against his hand. Wave after wave of pleasure cascaded through me and I felt myself slipping closer to the edge.
His lips circled my breast and he tongued at my nipple, enveloping it in warmth and wetness and causing me to shudder. I ran my hands through his curly black hair.
He pushed my panties aside and slid his fingers into my slick folds. He pressed them in and out of my soaking depths with a maddening rhythm. He slipped his fingers out of me and massaged my clit in smooth circles. My knees shook and almost gave out.
I slipped my hand into his boxers and grasped his cock. It was warm and thick and harder than I could have ever imagined. My hand stroked up and down along his shaft, causing him to moan into my shoulder. I worked my fist over his length with a steady rhythm, trying to bring him as close to the edge as he was bringing me.
I dropped to my knees, pulling down his boxers at the same time. His cock sprang to life in front of my face. I grasped it in my hand and took him in my mouth. My tongue ran over the head of his erection and I tasted the saltiness of him.
My head bobbed up and down on his length, eliciting a low groan from him. He placed his hands on my shoulders to steady himself. His hips thrust forward, fucking my mouth with his cock. I could feel him shaking as he came close to orgasm.
He pushed me away and down onto the cushion.
“What’s wrong?” I asked breathlessly.
“Nothing,” he said. “I need to be inside you.”
He slid the panties from my hips and knelt between my legs. He leaned in to kiss me and his cock pressed against my warm slit. I angled my hips so that his shaft lined up with my slick entrance. He gazed into my eyes as if he was looking into my soul, and then he plunged inside me. I gasped as the thickness of it filled me.
He moved inside me slowly at first, back and forth, gradually increasing the tempo. Fire coursed through my body and through my brain. I moved my hips against him in rhythm with his movements, feeling a frantic desire wash over me.
He scraped his teeth over my nipple, sending waves of pure ecstasy pulsing through me. My pleasure spiraled upwards into a raging inferno. Everything inside me started to tighten.
The sound of shattering glass made us both jump.
We sprang apart, both of us looking toward the door to the studio where the sound had originated from.
“You son of a bitch!” a female voice shouted in the darkness. The voice hit me like a bucket of cold water, extinguishing the fires of my pleasure.
We scrambled to our feet. I pulled the sheet up with me to cover my nakedness, wrapping it under my armpits and across my chest. I was still breathing hard, and my heart was beating like a hammer. An icy spike of fear stabbed through me. I felt vulnerable and exposed and not in the good way like before.
A woman, slightly old
er than me, stepped into the circle of lights. She had blonde hair and her features were twisted with rage.
“How fucking dare you!”
She walked up to Dominic and slapped him across the face. The force of the blow made his softening cock judder from side to side. The ridiculousness of it made me want to laugh, but I knew if I did, something bad would happen.
She pulled her hand back for another blow and Dominic grabbed her wrist.
“Gillian,” he said. “Calm down.”
She struggled in his grip. “Don’t you tell me to calm down, you prick.” She tried to knee him in the groin, but he swiveled his hips away from her like a naked matador.
I stood frozen in terror, not knowing what to say.
She turned to face me. “And you? You little slut.”
“Enough already,” he said.
“No. Tell your little whore to leave.”
“Gillian!”
“This bitch needs to go. Now!”
I still had the sheet wrapped around me. I snatched my clothes and shoes from where they lay around the floor, gathering them up into a bundle against my chest. Then I ran for the door.
I heard Dominic call out behind me. “Angela, wait!”
But I didn't wait. I ran to the door. Past the broken bottle of wine that sat beside it, the one Gillian must have dropped when she walked in to find us. Then I was out in the hallway.
I stabbed the button for the elevator and threw my blouse over my head. The elevator doors opened and I jumped in. I jabbed the “close” button as fast as I could. As the door slid closed, I was sure I heard footsteps running towards the elevator in the hall.
I slung on the rest of my clothes before anyone else decided they needed to use the elevator. Confused thoughts ran through my head. My night had gone from amazing to shit in the span of a few seconds.
The elevator dinged and the doors opened on the first floor entranceway. I ran out the heavy metal doors and into the cool, dark, anonymous night. I promised myself I would never talk to Dominic ever again.
The Art of Love Part 2
Chapter 5
My night had been a disaster.
I cried until my pillow was soaked and cursed his name until my throat was raw. Dominic Bell, the bastard with blue eyes. I could still feel those eyes studying me as he sketched me. I could feel them crawling on my skin beneath my pajamas like skittering insects.
I should have known better. A man that beautiful and that talented must have a hundred girls clamoring for his attention. I was naive to think he would be interested in a woman like me. I had too many curves and too many brain cells and too much self-respect.
Those girls could have him. Monogamy was a requirement for me, and I sure as hell wasn’t okay with being the “other woman.” We had never talked about whether he was dating someone else. Hell, we barely even knew each other, but still, I just assumed he was a decent human being and that he was single.
I couldn’t believe I let myself fall for the whole brooding artist thing. Normally, I kept my cool around guys, which was probably why I’d never really had a serious relationship. Still, it kept me from getting hurt. But something about him lowered my guard and overwhelmed my better judgment.
It was my own damn fault. Wine goes straight to my head and shatters my inhibitions. He kept filling my glass and I kept letting him. I got caught up in the moment. I got caught up in him.
What’s worse, I didn’t even get paid for going over there. I knew when he offered to pay me two hundred dollars to pose for him that it must be too good to be true. I should have trusted that little voice in my head that repeatedly told me it was a bad idea, but desperation makes fools of us all.
He probably never intended to pay me. He just wanted to get me drunk and naked and have his way with me. And what a way it was. Despite my anger, being with him felt so good. So right. I don’t know if I’ve ever felt that way with anyone before.
Those sensitive, smoldering eyes were hypnotic and his touch lit a fire in me. It was almost worth not getting paid just to have shared those moments of passion with him. Everything else went away when I was with him. All my problems, all my doubts, all the worst parts of my stupid life.
That had actually been the worst part. I had really liked him, dammit. There had been more than an attraction there. Something deeper than just a one night stand. Maybe there was a way I could make it work.
No. I had to stop that line of thinking. I didn’t have to put up with bullshit like that. I didn’t have to be anyone’s second best. Or third best or however many women that bastard lured over to his studio to seduce. I was better than that. Stronger than that. Besides, I had so many more important things to worry about than him. The best thing I could do was just put the whole incident behind me and forget about him.
I pulled the covers over my head to shut the world out. I told myself that nothing existed outside of my little cocoon. Eventually, I slipped into the forgetful arms of sleep where Dominic Bell did not exist.
***
Apparently, there was no escaping him, even in my dreams.
I ran naked through a dark hallway that never seemed to end. A light at the end of the hall shined like freedom, but it only seemed to grow farther away with every step. I could feel him right behind me. His smoking blue eyes scorched my back. His hot breath teased my neck.
My legs pumped faster until my lungs burned and my muscles ached. No matter how fast I ran, I could not outrun him. His feet slammed against the floor in a pounding rhythm. Thud thud. Thud thud.
My body jerked awake. My limbs were tangled in my sweat soaked sheets and I gasped for breath.
Thud thud thud.
Someone was knocking on my apartment door. My heart started to pound at the thought that Dominic had found me.
The glaring green numbers on my alarm clock said it was eight in the morning. Whoever was banging on my door this early was putting their life at risk. Hell hath no fury like a woman whose sleep is interrupted. I flung myself out of bed and threw a robe over my gnarled up pajamas.
“Alright!” I yelled. “I’m coming already.”
I swung the door open with a dark expression on my face. “What?!”
An older gentleman in a crisp dark suit was standing in front of me. He looked apologetic as he sheepishly held out a manila envelope with my name emblazoned across the front in thick, black marker.
“Package for you, madam,” he said, unable to look me in the eyes.
“Oh.” I snatched the envelope from him. “Thanks,” I said vaguely and closed the door on his face.
What fresh hell is this, I wondered, as I tore open the top of the envelope. An eviction notice? A letter saying I got kicked out of school?
I stood in the center of my cramped living room and slipped the contents out of the envelope. My face scrunched up in confusion. It was a stack of photographs. Photographs of me. It took a second for my mind to catch up with what I was seeing.
There was one of me smiling. One of me laughing. One of me drinking a glass of wine. These were the pictures that Dominic had taken of me last night. I guess he had found me after all. I threw them on my couch in disgust.
I considered crawling back into bed and never leaving it again. It was only eight a.m. and the day had already turned to shit. I knew I would never get back to sleep, though. I was too pissed off for sleep. I stomped into my kitchen and made an angry pot of coffee.
What game was he playing at, sending me those photographs? Did he really have to torment me? Wasn’t last night’s embarrassment enough? I scrubbed my eyes and tried to focus on the comforting sound of the coffee percolating into the pot.
It’s just you and me, coffee. You and me against the world.
When it was ready, I poured myself a steaming mug. It felt warm and familiar in my hands. I weaved my way back to the living room through scattered piles of books and papers strewn about the floor. Now that the spring semester was nearing its end, organization and neatness
were low on my list of priorities. I would clean up after finals.
I sank onto the couch. The movement sloshed coffee over the rim of the mug, scalding my hand. I made a sound like a pissed off cat.
I sighed. I knew I should have gone back to bed. I placed the mug on my cluttered coffee table so I didn’t fling it across the room. My eyes inevitably strayed to the photos splayed out on the cushion beside me.
I gathered them up, telling myself I was just going to look at them to see how bad they were. I just wanted to confirm that Dominic was a shitty artist. It wasn’t like I missed him or anything. I looked down at my face in black and white.
