by Mann, Marni
“It’s a good thing you didn’t take off your jacket inside the limo.”
I smiled, not only with my lips, but with my eyes, too. I had quickly adjusted the top of the dress to ensure my nipples wouldn’t show, but the movement had dragged the silk across them, causing the small buds to stand erect. Both layers of fabric were too thin to hide the hardness. I knew Cameron noticed; his stare was directly on them.
“And why is that?” I asked.
I knew the answer; I just wanted his words to wrap around that place and lick it as though they were his tongue.
He leaned down until his lips were gently pressed against my ear. “Because as soon as I laid my eyes on your body I would have tied your hands to the headrest and buried my face in your pussy for the rest of the night.”
He gave me exactly what I had expected: a tease, an urge to reach back and rub my fingers over his zipper. He was testing me and it was even more of a turn on. Maybe it was time I did the same to him.
“Remember that surprise I mentioned?”
He didn’t answer; his mouth softly kissed my earlobe instead. I glanced around; there were so many people filing inside, moving through the entrance. No one was paying any attention to us.
It wouldn’t have mattered much if they had been.
I carefully dropped my clutch on the ground. “Can you get that for me?” As I finished speaking, I stepped directly over the small purse, keeping my legs spread as far apart as the skirt would allow.
He released my waist as he bent down and we made brief eye contact before he found the spot I wanted him to see. Then he gradually rose from my legs and returned to my side.
“You’re going to show that to me…and expect me not to want to eat it?” he breathed.
“That’s exactly what I expect…for now.”
He pulled me against him, and I discovered the hardness straining against his pants. “I changed my mind. I can’t wait until later, and I see no reason why I have to. Let me take you inside that limo so I can devour you. Then we’ll move on to the next layer I have planned.”
Devour. It sent a wave of heat over my back and down my breasts, making my nipples even harder. If this was his reaction to my bare pussy, I wondered how he would respond when my mouth finally touched him.
“You’re not getting anything just yet. This dress hasn’t even come close to teasing you enough.”
“Charlie…”
I nodded to the set of waiters who were standing up ahead, holding full trays of white and red wine and champagne. “I think we could both use a drink.”
Cameron left my side just long enough to grab two glasses of red. He handed me one as I tucked my clutch under my arm. Finally, we made our way through the main entrance and into the open space where the art was showcased.
This gallery was much more contemporary than some of the others in the city, with its stained concrete floors, multi-height white half-walls and metal rafters dropping down at various levels, holding spotlights that shined directly on the individual pieces. Short, rectangular leather beds were scattered throughout; groups of people sat and chatted. The art all around them was perfectly matched to the tone of the space. Canvases weren’t the only things being shown; at least every other piece was an oversized plate that appeared to be made of glass or ceramic, with wavy borders and bold, dramatic color filling the center. Some of the designs were striped; others were splashes and bursts, as if the artist had thrown a bucket of paint against it.
“Cameron,” I heard someone say from behind us.
We were headed toward the back of the room where the collection started, but we stopped and turned around when we heard the Professor greet us. He had two men at his side, both of whom I recognized as buyers from my exhibit.
Professor Freeman shook Cameron’s hand before turning his attention to me. He reached for mine, and I set my fingers onto his palm. “Charlie,” he said, bending to give me a kiss on the cheek, “what a nice surprise. I didn’t expect either of you to be here…you look as beautiful as ever.”
“Thank you,” I said. “It’s always a pleasure to see you outside of school.”
I knew my dress was tasteful, but I was showing much more skin than I normally did. Before the Doctor became part of my life, Professor Freeman had been the closest thing I’d had to a father. It felt a little inappropriate to be wearing something so revealing in front of him.
“You remember Chet and Ronald from your exhibit?” he asked.
“Of course,” I said, reaching forward to shake their hands. “It’s nice to see you both again.”
Cameron had introduced himself while I had been speaking to the Professor. Now that the focus was back on me, he circled his arm protectively around my waist. I didn’t think either Chet or Ronald noticed, though. Neither of their stares had really made it past my face.
“Chet was just mentioning how interested he was in owning one of your pieces,” the Professor said.
“Indeed,” Chet said. “I still remember the series from your exhibit, especially the one…I believe you called it The Lace Mask? That one really caught my eye.”
My pulse quickened as I searched his face and studied his voice, as I seemed to do when meeting new people now. I didn’t recognize either from the mansion. I would have remembered if I’d been with him…and I didn’t. There was no hidden meaning behind his interest in the painting. Still, it reminded me that I couldn’t escape the mansion, even when I wanted to—even when I tried to. I wondered if there would be a time when a buyer would show appreciation for my work and I wouldn’t immediately suspect them of being a different type of client, with a completely different motive.
Cameron must have sensed my concern; the fingers that were gripping my waist began to softly stroke my skin. It didn’t feel like he was trying to turn me on, though; it felt like he was attempting to relax me.
“Do you want a duplicate of The Lace Mask?” I asked Chet.
He shook his head. “Something original, but in the same spirit, perhaps. Maybe we could meet sometime soon and discuss the specifics?”
The Professor smiled. “I’ll happily connect the two of you.”
“Thank you…that would be great,” I said, before Cameron led me away.
We’d taken several steps when he leaned down and whispered into my ear, “Those two buyers really enjoyed staring at what’s mine.”
I glanced over at him. “Yours?”
“Do you need me to show you how much I own it?” He stopped walking and moved in front of me so we now faced each other. It was as though no one else was in the room. I bit my bottom lip and nodded, waiting for what he was going to say next.
He laughed, but unlike how it had sounded in the limo, this time it seemed honest and open. Sincere, even. “Who wants to go in the backseat now?”
I felt my face redden. “I could easily be convinced.”
“You made me wait, and I’m going to make you do the same.” He reached for my mouth, pulling my lip out from my teeth. “No biting. That’s only for me.”
A chill started from the exact place his fingers had touched me. It spread all the way to my waist, stopping between my legs and thumping against my clit.
He must have felt me shiver, because a light shone in his face as he said, “I’ll take care of it. Soon. I promise.”
Gripping my hand again, he led me toward the back of the room. A few of the attendees stopped us, some inquiring about certain pieces, others requesting meetings to discuss our work. I wasn’t even close to Cameron’s notoriety, but standing next to him, his arm still protectively around my waist, I seemed to be getting just as much attention as he was. Our styles of painting were completely different, and our voices. We weren’t in competition with each other. In fact, we seemed to complement each other almost perfectly.
When we finally arrived at the start of the collection, the owner of the gallery approached us and pulled Cameron away for a discussion in his office. I chilled a bit at the thought of his
absence.
He felt my hand seize as he started to pull away. “Do you want to come?” he asked.
I shook my head and breathed. “I’ll wait for you out here.”
He kissed my cheek and assured me that he’d be right back. I began observing the first canvas. The artist had a unique talent; he was able to apply vivid, forceful color to many different surfaces, yet still create a flow among the pieces as a set.
“I didn’t expect to see you here, Charlie.”
I turned around at the sound of my name being spoken in an all-too-familiar voice, and my eyes instantly met Lora’s. She stood only a few feet away.
I wasn’t surprised that she was here; she seemed to always gravitate toward Cameron whether he was at an art event or at a party. I was just surprised that she had made an effort to come speak to me. I did a quick scan of her; even in my heels, she towered over me by more than several inches. Her nipples were barely tucked into her low-cut top, and her long hair was curled and sprayed in a similar style as mine.
“Lora, it’s so nice to see you,” I said, leaning in to kiss both of her cheeks, a greeting she’d forced since I’d met her. We both knew it wasn’t nice to see each other. The friendly kisses we gave to each other were a lie, too. But she was Cameron’s best friend, so I had to be nice. “Things good with you?”
“Of course. Things are perfect.” Her stare moved down my whole body, then back up to my face. “I didn’t interrupt you, did I?”
“Not at all. I was just admiring the art. This is the first chance I’ve had to view it since we got here. Cameron’s been keeping me busy.” It felt so good to tell her that.
“He’s here? I didn’t notice. I only noticed you…standing alone.”
Another lie.
“Will you be buying any of the pieces tonight?” I asked. “I know you’ve got quite the collection.”
She smirked, shaking her head in a way that was both teasing and sensual. “The only piece I’ll be adding is the one Cameron is making…the one of my body.”
A lump formed in the back of my throat. “Yes, I saw it.” I took a deep breath, trying to shove it down to my stomach where it didn’t threaten my emotions. It wouldn’t budge. “He portrayed it well.”
“Oh, he isn’t done yet. I’m having him enhance my breasts a bit more. Silly boy…he knows I’m much better-endowed than he made me.”
I hated that she was getting satisfaction out of this. She knew what she said was highly inappropriate, but I refused to give her what she wanted.
She isn’t worth your worry, Charlie.
Emma’s voice. Always sounding out just when I needed it.
So I let myself relax, slowed down my heart rate. I didn’t change my posture or my facial expression, though. I acted as if I didn’t care about anything she’d said.
Cameron’s hands wrapped around my waist and his lips pressed into my neck as he pulled my back against his chest. “I hope you’re playing nice, Lora.”
“That’s the only way I play, Cameron,” she said. “Most of the time, anyway”
I didn’t like the way the tone of her voice changed when she spoke to him, or the way her eyes began to smolder. What I did like was that it seemed to have no effect on Cameron. He kept me pressed tightly to him, his hands still bound and his lips still loving.
“See any pieces that you like?” he asked her.
“You know how loyal I am, love,” she said. “There’s only one artist in my life.”
I’d heard enough.
“I’m going to grab another drink. You want one?” I asked him over my shoulder.
“I’ll go”
“No need,” I interrupted him, pulling my fingers free. “You stay with Lora and I’ll get you one.” As much as I wanted to ignore her presence, I just couldn’t. “Would you like anything?” I asked her.
“They have waiters for that, Charlie,” she sniffed. But before I could turn and leave, she’d placed her order. “If you insist on serving me, then I’d love a white wine spritzer with four ice cubes…not three or five, but four, please. And make sure it’s a thick glass…nothing thin enough to break in my hand.”
I didn’t even bother to roll my eyes. Emma was right: she wasn’t worth it.
I smiled and turned around, heading to the bar that was on the other side of the room. I reached the front of the short line and gave the bartender my order, purposely neglecting to mention anything about the glass or the number of ice cubes Lora wanted. All of it was too ridiculous to repeat.
“What do you think?” someone asked me.
I followed the voice. It had come from the man who was standing to my left, his arm resting on the edge of the bar.
“What do I think?”
He nodded.
“About what?” I took a sip of my red wine, and grinned.
“The art. Your thing, not your thing, no one’s thing…you know—what do you think?”
He was dressed in all black, a little more casual than what some of the other men were wearing tonight. But his eyes…they weren’t casual at all. They were a deep blue, almost a teal, like the exact spot in the ocean when the green water met the navy and they melted together under the sunshine.
“It’s definitely my thing,” I said. I hadn’t really had a chance to dissect it, but I really liked what I had seen so far. “The artist has a fantastic style. Brilliant...colorful. Thoughtful. And it’s bold and loud, both of which I most definitely enjoy.”
“Perfect answer.” He winked, and stuck out his hand. “I’m Jameson…I’m the artist.”
I was glad for my answer. “I’m Charlie”
“I know.” His smile was so large it was spreading to my lips. “I’m a huge fan.”
“You are?”
“I’ve been following the rise of your career. From afar, of course. I bought one of your pieces at last year’s exhibit.”
I released his fingers, but not before the tattoo on his wrist caught my attention. It was black and red flames, peeking their way out of his sleeve. When my eyes traveled back to his face, I noticed the small black corks in his ears and the silver ball in the middle of his tongue. It triggered a memory of one of my old client’s at the mansion. He’d had a similar piercing in his tongue. He used to rub ice over the metal before he licked me. It had only taken several seconds before the combination of the cold and his flicking would bring me past that screaming edge.
Lilly laughed in my head. Slut, she said.
She was much more difficult to ignore than Lora had been.
“I’m sorry,” I said, shaking the thoughts and her voice out of my mind. “I’m so embarrassed…I should have remembered you from the gallery.”
“It’s not your fault. We’ve never officially met. I had to head out of town, so I was only able to catch the very beginning of your event. Unfortunately, I never got a chance to speak to you.”
“That’s too bad. I would have enjoyed us meeting.”
“Likewise.” He glanced at the bar where Cameron and Lora’s drinks now waited for me. “Can I help you bring those somewhere? Seems like that’s a lot for one person to carry.”
“I can’t ask you to do that. This is your exhibit, and I don’t want to take up all of your time.”
“Please,” he said, lifting the two glasses, “it would be my pleasure.”
He walked by my side and we stopped once we reached Cameron and Lora. But before we joined them, about halfway across the floor, Cameron’s eyes had found me and followed me the rest of the way. Even though his stare was on me, my attention was on Jameson. We discussed the piece I had been observing before Lora had interrupted me.
“Cameron, Lora,” I said, “I’d like you to meet Jameson. He’s the creator of this collection.”
Cameron shook his hand and took the glasses from me. “Pleasure to meet you, sir. You do fantastic work.”
Jameson tipped his head and smiled. “As do you, Mr. Hardy. Consider me a fan…I know your work very well.”
&
nbsp; “Well, I don’t know you,” Lora said, reaching her hand out in his direction. Her eyes scanned him from top to bottom. “But you look as much like a work of art as what you have hanging…” No one knew what to say to that. Lora looked at everyone and smirked. “In the gallery, I mean.”
Jameson had such a cool demeanor. He actually chuckled at Lora’s comment, and said, “Yesthat, too.” And when he shook her hand—distant and business-like—I had to believe by her expression it wasn’t the intimate embrace she was hoping for. I didn’t know what type of men she was attracted to in generalI hadn’t met her husband or even seen a picture of himbut Jameson’s coloring couldn’t have been any more different from Cameron’s. He had blond hair that was much longer than Cameron’s, spiked in all different directions; a devilish grin that didn’t just involve his mouth. It spread to his eyes and his brows, making it impossible to tell what he was really thinking.
“I’ll let you all get back to your conversation,” Jameson said. “Cameron: fantastic to meet you. Lora: a pleasure. And Charlie,” and he took my hand in his again, “it was wonderful to speak with you at last.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a business card. “When you have a chance, please give me a call. I know of a collector who’d love to have one of your pieces. She’s a high-payer, too…it would be entirely worth your while.”
I looked at his card. It was glossy and black with splashes of color in the centera miniaturized version of one of his canvases. His name and number were in the corner. “Thank you, Jameson. I will.”
Cameron’s arm suddenly found me again and slowly pulled me closer to him. Jameson noticed the movement as his eyes followed Cameron’s hand and his fingers that had curled around me. He unhurriedly looked up from my waist, meeting my stare, and he smiled before he departed our group.
