Drawn

by Anderson, Lilliana

  “You see being called an Amazon a bad thing?”

  “Well, isn’t it? It makes me feel like a bit of a freak, then the red hair to top it off…” I roll my eyes and huff out my breath, turning onto my back. “We don’t need to go through my list of insecurities.”

  He climbs on top of me, and kisses me gently, my lips swollen and tender, but never having enough. “Most men find the idea of Amazon women very sexy,” he murmurs, planting soft kisses between my breasts. “They’re tall, strong, beautiful, intelligent – everything wonderful in a woman. They can take care of themselves, and don’t need men. So to capture the heart of one, is very special indeed. To be the man who protects a woman who is capable of protecting herself… you’d be hard pressed finding a man who didn’t find the idea of that hot.”

  “You’re making all that up,” I giggle, but loving every word.

  “Am I?” he asks, rolling off me, and the bed. “Come,” he says, holding his hand out and helping me up, leading me to the bathroom. “Now, look in the mirror. I want you to see what I see.”

  “I only see you,” I smile, my eyes locked with his as I drink him in, every line, every detail of his beautiful stubbled face.

  “Look at yourself. I’ll tell you what I see.” He sweeps his hands through my hair, smoothing it out and settling it over my left shoulder. “I see beautiful, soft milky skin.” He traces his fingertips over the curve of my neck, and I can’t help but admire his long fingers as they drift over my flesh.

  “Not me Etta, look at yourself,” he whispers. I force myself to focus on my skin, instead of his fingers as he continues. “Your hair, is like a silken blanket, soft and warm as it falls about your face, accentuating the rose that blooms in your cheeks and over your lips when I touch you.”

  My breathing quickens, and my skin heats beneath his fingertips as he runs them down my back and over the curve of my behind. “Your body, soft, and firm in all the right places, tight and warm where it counts,” he whispers, his own breathing growing heavy as his hands slide between my thighs. “Wet, every time I touch you.” His fingers slide through my folds, my juices silken beneath his touch. “Look into your eyes Etta. See what I see.”

  As his fingers dive into my depths, I try to keep my focus locked on my own reflection. But it’s hard. My eyes want to see him – the object of my desire. “Your eyes,” he reminds me, a slight reprimand apparent in his tone. “Don’t look away.”

  Pulsing his fingers inside me, he continues to whisper in my ear. “Do you see it? Your skin flushing, heating up because of what I’m doing to you? Look into your eyes, watch yourself come.”

  With my hands leaning on the vanity, I do as he asks, watching as the blood rushes into my face, and fighting to keep focus when my vision clouds with ecstasy. Guiding my legs apart, he tilts my pelvis back and enters me from behind, reaching his hand around front to tease my clit.

  “Oh!” I call, my eyes rolling back and losing focus as my orgasm mounts.

  “Keep watching Etta. See what I see,” he commands, thrusting himself inside me.

  I force myself to look in the mirror again, my eyes shining, my face pink, my lips red, and I shudder, my orgasm bursting forth as I moan and grip him internally.

  “There is nothing more beautiful to me than your face when you come,” he whispers.

  Watching myself as I come, I think I see what it is he sees. In the moment, I am completely free, there is no holding anything back. It’s just sheer bliss and raw emotion. You can see exactly how I feel, and the realisation of it hits me hard – this is all happening way too soon.

  Chapter 15

  “I need to talk to you about Bec,” I say, the next morning when we wake up. It seems that whenever I wake, my questions and doubts are sitting at the forefront of my mind. “What’s going on between you and her?”

  He turns onto his side to face me, running his fingers up and down my arm as he takes his time responding.

  “I’m not having sex with her if that’s what you’re asking,” he says, his voice low and soft as he moves his hand and repositions my hair so it’s hanging behind me.

  “It didn’t sound like you were having sex with her. It sounded like you were watching her masturbate,” I state frankly.

  Taking a deep breath - that I’m coming to realise means that he’s keeping information from me - he sits up in the bed.

  “I think we should get ready for training,” he tells me over his shoulder.

  “I don’t want to go to training. I want you to tell me what’s going on.”

  Standing up, he opens his drawers and starts pulling clothes on. “What do you want me to say, Henrietta? You know what you heard, and I’m not going to lie. But I’m not going to talk about it either. She doesn’t mean anything to me.”

  “Have you had sex with her before?”

  “Please don’t start asking me those kinds of questions. I’m not interested in who you’ve been with before me.”

  “I don’t want you seeing her anymore,” I tell him. The idea of them spending any more time together is eating me alive.

  “She’s in my class. I can’t make that promise.”

  “Then just don’t bring her here!” I demand aggressively. “Don’t do whatever the hell it was you were doing with her. I don’t want your eyes on her naked body! Is that clear? I don’t want to see, hear, or even suspect that you are around her for any reason other than school work. Or I swear Damien, I’ll…”

  “You’ll what Etta?” he asks softly.

  “I don’t know. But the thought makes me crazy. God only knows what I’ll do if it’s a reality,” I whisper hoarsely, realising that I’m shaking.

  Sitting back down on the bed, he takes me in his arms and shushes me gently. “If it makes you feel better, I’ll tell her no more portraits. But you have to understand that you are the only girl I want. The only one I care about. You have nothing to be upset about.”

  “Just keep her away from me.” I wrap my arms tightly around his chest, clutching at him as I bury my face in his warmth.

  “Alright. I’ll keep her away,” he concedes, holding me a moment longer before moving back from me to lift my chin so our eyes meet. “As long as you come training with me.” A grin pulling at his mouth as he tries not to smile.

  Slapping him against his chest, I then fold my arms tightly against mine. “I’m being serious Damien. Don’t try and blackmail me.”

  “I’m serious too. If you’re going to keep attacking every girl you see me with, I want you to be trained well enough to do it quickly,” he tells me as seriously as he can.

  “You’re a dick,” I say, trying not to smile myself.

  “Don’t call me that. I wouldn’t call you a vagina,” he points out, extending his arm toward me.

  I take his hand willingly as he pulls me from the bed and into his arms, his hand sliding over my bare skin as I lean into him. “I think the opposite word for dick is a bit ruder than vagina.”

  “Really?” he laughs. “And what is this rude word you speak of?”

  “I’m not saying. It’s too rude,” I murmur, feeling a little embarrassed over something as simple as a swear word.

  Gently, he pinches my skin, tickling me, causing me to squirm against him as he continues to tell me that I need to say the word.

  “Stop! Stop!”

  “Tell me the naughty word Etta,” he laughs. “I’m not stopping until you do.”

  “Cunt! The word is cunt! Just stop!” I giggle, laughing as he lifts me off the floor and sends us both tumbling on a heap onto his bed.

  “You’re right. That is a horrible word,” he whispers, holding himself above me as he leans down to kiss my neck, his hands travelling over my skin as his kisses move down my body, and over my mound. Opening my legs, he slides off the side of the bed onto his knees on the floor, pulling me so my legs hang over his shoulders.

  I feel his breath, warm against my core, and hold mine, waiting for his mouth. “Etta?” he mu
rmurs, causing me to open my eyes and lift my head to look down at him.

  “Hmmm?” I respond, expecting that he wants me to tell him what I want.

  “Get dressed. We’re going training.”

  “That. Is. So. Mean,” I say, as I lay there, spread eagled on the bed as he stands in front of me. “So. Mean.”

  “No, Etta. It’s a promise of things to come.”

  My insides clench as I close my legs and sit in front of him. “Are you really going to make me wait?” I pout.

  “If you come training then after I will make love to you until you can’t stand it anymore.”

  My pout turns into a grin. “I have class after lunch. We have until then.”

  “Then we’d better not waste any time. Come on.”

  He pulls me up from the bed and hands me some clothes to train in, a pair of grey tracksuit pants and one of his black t-shirts. I inhale as I pull it over my head, even though it’s clean, it still has a smell that reminds me of him. Although perhaps it’s just the washing products he uses…

  In around five minutes, we’re already getting into his car and heading to the dojo to train. Secretly, I hope our training session ends up much like our last one – one move and then sex on the mats, and in the shower. I can handle that kind of training. However, Damien has other ideas.

  “Henrietta, would you do this properly? This isn’t a joke,” he says calmly.

  “Come on Damien, we’ve been here for nearly an hour already. This is your thing. It’s not mine.”

  “I seem to recall it being very much your thing. You were very good when you were here.”

  “You remember me from when I used to train?”

  “Of course I do. You’re the Sensei’s daughter. Everyone knew you. Plus, who could miss that hair of yours,” he grins.

  “Well, I wasn’t good because I wanted to be. I was good because I was trained more often than anyone else in the club. But I quit remember. Besides what we’ve done lately, I haven’t trained properly in years.”

  “I’m sure your father didn’t just let you sit around learning nothing all these years. Did he?”

  “No. He didn’t,” I admit. “But I have been very resistant to learning.”

  “I’ll bet you know more than you’re letting on. Otherwise you wouldn’t be able to handle the advanced stuff I’ve been making you do. How about disarming someone attacking you with a knife. Did he show you that?”

  I stand there with my hands on my hips, tired from a lack of sleep, and the training we’ve already done, chewing my lips as I decide if I want to answer. If I give in now, and really train properly, this opens up a whole new door. It means I have to trust him enough to let him be my teacher. It means that I have to stop looking at this as a bit of temporary fun that could end up with us tumbling on the mats.

  Closing my eyes, I take a breath. “Yes, he did teach me that.”

  “Then show me,” he says, moving over to the wall and removing the plastic training knife. He walks over to me, tossing the knife from hand to hand. “I want you to take this seriously Henrietta. We’re not here to play.”

  He lunges at me with the knife, keeping his distance so he can assess how I respond. A grin curls over his mouth as I flinch, preparing myself to deflect his arm.

  “I knew you remembered more than you let on,” he smiles, lunging toward me again. Once again, it’s a tease.

  “I’m rusty. I’m not inept,” I reply, concentrating on his movement, knowing that if I’m not ready, he’ll get me with the blade – even though it’s plastic, it can still hurt when it jabs you.

  He lunges at me with the knife, aiming for my stomach, and I dodge, pushing against his arm, as I grab hold of his wrist, twisting my body around so that I’m controlling his movement and the weapon.

  A slight grin curves on his mouth as I direct the knife toward his throat. His role as the attacker is to behave as though the knife is real and try to keep it away from himself. So, the movement knocks him off balance, and as he falls, I manipulate his wrist, forcing him to roll his body and give up the weapon.

  He lets out a chuckle as I put my knee into his back and remove the knife from his hand. “You’ve been holding out on me,” he says, as I slide off his back and sit down on the ground next to him.

  “Now will you take me home and make love to me until I can’t stand it anymore?” I ask seriously, looking down at him as he rolls over onto his back and meets my eyes, smiling triumphantly. “What are you grinning so broadly about?”

  “You’re training,” he states.

  Rolling my eyes, I stand up and head toward the door. “I’ll meet you in the car then?” I say, refusing to discuss the fact that I just had my first proper training session in a very long time. There were no games, no sexual escapades, just pure training, and I have to admit it felt good.

  Before I can make it to the door, Damien rushes up behind me and scoops me up, flipping me over his shoulder like I’m a rag doll. Just like I did the last time he did this, I squeal – of course I do. He caught me completely by surprise.

  “Put me down you brute,” I laugh.

  But he just gives me a tap on the butt, causing me to squeal again and beat my hands against his arse as he carries me toward the door.

  “Well… at least the view is nice from here,” I state, giving up my fight and relaxing over his shoulder as we exit the gym.

  “What’s going on?” I hear a very familiar voice ask.

  Damien slides me off his shoulder and sets me down on the gravel, an audible crunch sounds as I find my footing and straighten myself and my hair. I hesitate for a moment before turning around. “Hi dad,” I say. as the looming figure of my father stands before us, hands on hips as he waits for an answer.

  “We were just training,” Damien explains, his voice calm and collected. I find it amazing that he can act this way around my father when I’m having a short panic attack.

  “Keep it that way,” my father says, looking pointedly at Damien. “Henrietta. Can I speak to you inside for a moment?”

  “Um, sure,” I answer, leaving Damien outside as I follow him into the reception area.

  “How are you settling in to your new place?”

  “Fine. It’s nice. I like it there.”

  “Come to dinner at the house on Wednesday. Your mother misses you.”

  “Of course.”

  He leans behind the counter and pulls out a plastic binder, thick with paperwork before he looks up at me again.

  “Look after yourself ok?” he says, letting me know he’s said all he needs to. Although I find it strange that he isn’t saying anything about the fact that he just found out I was training again.

  “You too dad. I’ll see you Wednesday.”

  “Is everything ok?” Damien asks, as I walk outside.

  “Yeah,” I nod quickly. “He just wants me to have dinner with him and mum on Wednesday.”

  “Fair enough,” he says, opening the car door for me to get inside. “What time is your class?” he asks on the way back to his apartment.

  “Two,” I tell him, as I admire the muscles in his forearm when he changes gears in the traffic, feeling my insides clench just thinking about all the things we could be doing until that time. “What about you? Do you have anything on today?”

  “Just you.” He looks at me momentarily, the heat in his eyes is enough to send my heart racing.

  The moment he parks the car, I unclick my belt myself and jump out of the car, before the engine is even turned off. “Hurry,” I call out to him, giving him a knowing grin before I spin on my heel and run for the foyer door.

  He’s fast, and by the time I’m in the stairwell, I hear him coming up behind me. Glancing over my shoulder, I laugh as I quicken my pace, noting the hungry look in his eyes as he pursues me up the second flight of stairs.

  “Gotcha,” he growls, his hands gripping my waist and lifting me off the ground, spinning me so I face him. Squealing with laughter as we collapse
on the staircase together, I can’t help but notice how he holds me to him to soften my fall. “I’ve got you,” he says again, but in a whisper this time as he brushes his lips over mine, his arms sliding around my body as he lifts me off the stairs and takes my mouth with his.

  I wrap myself around him, legs and arms as he carries me up the last few steps, kissing me fervently as he slides his key in the door and lets us inside.

  “I want you Etta. I can’t stop wanting you,” he murmurs, as we each tighten our grip around each other, it’s verging on being painful, but I can’t stop pulling at him. I dig my nails into his back through his shirt and just pull.

  “Make love to me Damien,” I gasp. “Make love to me right now and don’t stop. I want you inside me. I want to feel you. Please.”

  He drops us to the floor, dragging my pants down my legs and pushing them to the side before sliding his hands underneath my arse and moving me like a doll so that my legs are over his shoulders. My back curves upward as he lifts my hips off the floor and drives his tongue between my folds then sucks firmly on my clit.

  “Oh god,” I gasp out, my arms splayed on the floor in support as I push down on his shoulders with my thighs, rocking myself against his mouth as he dines from my depths. His tongue swirling fiercely around my nub as he sucks and licks at me, holding me in position.

  My whimpering increases as my orgasm builds, and I find myself bucking against his face as the sensation increases, setting my senses on fire. Just as I’m about to explode, his hands slide underneath my shirt, his long fingers curling around my ribs as he withdraws his mouth and lifts me toward him, repositioning his arms as I slide down his body and he captures my mouth in his, feeding me the taste of my own arousal as his tongue drives into my mouth fiercely and I feel as though I’m about to be devoured by him.

  I don’t think there’s anything in this world I want more.

  I slide my hands under his shirt, urging it upward as my fingers desire the contact of his flesh. “Take it off,” I whisper, as I pull at the fabric and graze my teeth over the stubble on his chin.