by Bonnie Dee
“What?”
“A trellis arching over the path. Maybe with wisteria or roses growing on it.”
“There’s not really room for that.” His gaze lifted to her face and his eyes softened in a look of adoration. “But I’ll see what I can do.”
She kept trying to discourage Christopher’s emotions, periodically reminding him that his stay with her couldn’t last. But at the same time, she was growing accustomed to the warm look with which he always greeted her. Every time he saw her after a brief absence, his expression was one of epiphany—as if he’d only just discovered a rare and wonderful plant specimen. What woman wouldn’t want to be worshipped like that?
But his ardor was only an illusion, lovestruck blindness ignited by a strong dose of lust. It would cool in time. After their affair ended, he’d begin to see their relationship for what it really was—a mutually satisfactory exploration of two healthy bodies. His heart might hurt a little at first, but in hindsight, Chris would thank her for tutoring him and giving him the perfect introduction to sex.
“Your drawing is very good.” Meredith studied the finely drawn lines. Cross-hatching added shadow and depth to the clusters of greenery. He’d even managed to convey sunlight streaming in from the glass ceiling. On one of the benches he’d drawn Meredith sitting and reading a book, just as she’d imagined.
She traced a finger over her image, smearing the ink slightly. “Sorry. I thought it was dry.”
She examined the ink on the pad of her finger. It appeared black on the paper, but as she smeared it between her thumb and forefinger, she realized it was indigo. It left a purple smear on her skin. An interesting thought occurred to her. “You should draw me now. Not draw me, but draw on me—like a native tattoo, but without needles.”
Chris paused with the pen poised above the inkpot on the tray beside him. “Draw what?”
“Anything. Tribal markings like primitives decorate themselves with or a mermaid like sailors wear. Whatever you want to create.”
“This ink doesn’t wash off easily,” he warned. “And the pen nib will poke.”
“I know. I want the drawing to remain for a while, and I want to feel the scratch of your pen on my skin.”
“Where?” Ink dripped unnoticed from the pen onto the tray. His eyes were alight with interest, intrigued at the erotic notion of drawing on her flesh.
She turned her back toward him. “An entire canvas for you to design.”
He accepted her offer. A few moments later Meredith lay face down on the bed, her head turned sideways on the pillow, her body quivering in anticipation of the first stroke of his pen.
Chris sat beside her, his warm palm and fingers splayed across her back. He rubbed his hand up and down her back lightly as though learning the texture of her skin. “You’re sure about this?”
“Yes.” Her tongue darted over her lips. She pressed her throbbing sex into the bedcovers, trying to ease the pressure between her legs.
“I’ll do it here, so it will be covered no matter how low the neckline of your gown.” His thumbnail traced a pattern on her lower back from the curve of her buttocks up to just short of her shoulder blades.
She wiggled at the tickling sensation. “What will you draw?”
He didn’t answer at first, but continued to scratch a design onto her skin with his nail. “Something rare and exotic to represent you.”
Meredith smiled. “You really are getting glib with your compliments.”
“It’s not glib when they’re sincere,” he answered.
There was another pause. His hand lifted from her back, leaving it naked once more.
She watched as he lifted the ink and pen from the nightstand then she closed her eyes and waited while he shifted closer to her body. She concentrated on the sounds around her: the creak of the bed, his breathing, the clink of metal against glass as the pen clicked against the inkwell.
Holding her breath, she waited for that first scratch, but even though she was expecting it, she started when the nib touched her skin.
“Don’t move unless you want a blot,” he ordered.
He moved the pen assuredly in a single line that followed her spine an inch to the left then curved sharply over the right side of her back. She tried to imagine what it looked like—a black line on peach skin. He drew another line, parallel with the first, but curving the opposite direction.
She shifted. Her breasts ached, not from being pressed into the mattress, but with the need to be touched. She wished he were drawing on the front of her body.
Chris stopped immediately. “Does it hurt?”
“No. It feels delicious. Keep going.”
Another stroke, and another, curving left and right, swirling in spirals and short, straight lines that covered her back. She stopped trying to guess what he was depicting and relaxed into the experience. The end result would be a surprise.
He pressed harder, less cautious now as he immersed himself in the work. Some strokes were quite hard, almost painful; others were featherlight. Her skin was energized and tingled all over. Her pulse throbbed between her legs and she wished he would pause to touch it, but Chris was intent on his artwork, scratching and scratching hundreds of intricate lines.
The room was quiet but for the ticking of the mantel clock and the minute sounds of Christopher’s movements. Meredith fell into a near trance, completely relaxed yet very aware of every part of her body the pen touched. She liked him marking her as if putting his seal upon her and wished it were a real tattoo that would last long after they parted. One day, years from now, she might see him at some social event with his wife, a paragon who’d produced the perfect Whitby heir. Meredith would smile at the woman and think about the design on her back that forever connected her to Chris.
“There.”
Her eyes snapped open at the soft word. “Finished?”
“Lie for a few more minutes while it dries.” He bent to blow a warm breath over her back.
She made a small sound in her throat and wiggled.
Chris gathered up the sheaf of drawings of the greenhouse design and other renderings of specific plants and fanned her back with the pages.
The cool air made her shift and moan again. “I can’t wait to see it.”
“And I can’t wait to touch you. I’m so hard for you it hurts.”
She grinned and looked up at him. “Really? You liked drawing on me.”
In answer, he leaned over her and pressed kisses to her upper back from one shoulder blade to the other. His hand slid up the inside of her leg, caressing her thigh then seeking the warmth of her cunt. His fingers eased inside, probing gently and finding her soaking wet. Coating them with her juices, he reached along her seam until he came to her erect bud.
Meredith lifted her hips off the mattress so he could reach it better.
“You look so beautiful like this,” he murmured against her back.
“You like fucking me from behind?”
“I love making love to you in any possible way you can imagine.” He straightened and abandoned her pussy, making her whimper in disappointment. He pressed his fingertips lightly to the ink on her back.
“I think it’s dry enough now. Although I can’t vouch for what will happen to your clothes over the next few days. When you perspire, the ink is bound to bleed onto the fabric.” He rose from the bed and held out his hand to her.
“Loss of a few dresses is a small price for pleasure.” She took his hand and he pulled her to her feet.
Together they walked to the full-length looking glass. Meredith took up a hand mirror from the top of her bureau and stood with her back to the long mirror, while angling the smaller one to get a better view of her backside.
She drew in a breath. “It’s beautiful!”
She studied the tree spreading across her back. The ends of her hair brushed against its topmost branches, the roots reached over the curve of her bottom. The branches coiled in a stylized fashion and an abundance of leaves, fr
uit and flowers blossomed on each one.
“It’s meant to be the Tree of Knowledge in the Garden of Eden.”
“Forbidden,” she murmured, reaching her hand around her side to touch one of the blooming branches.
“Special and worth any risk. I imagine the fruit was so sweet, so astonishing that neither Adam nor Eve ever regretted tasting it.”
“But it brought suffering to them and all mankind.”
“So the story goes, but I don’t believe it.” He came up beside her, his body framing hers in their reflection. His hand snaked around her waist to finger the roots of the tree where they ended on the slope of her buttocks. “I think they enjoyed their new knowledge and lived happily ever after with God’s blessing.”
She laughed and looked from her ass to his eyes gazing into hers in the mirror. “You, my friend, are an optimist and a romantic.”
He grinned. “What can I say? I believe in a forgiving and benevolent God. No wrathful, judgmental Jehovah could create such a beautiful world.”
Dropping the small mirror on the carpet, she turned to Chris and wrapped her hand around the back of his neck, pulling him down to her for a light kiss.
“I like your God. Maybe if I’d experienced more of him I’d still attend church,” she said. “But, you’re right. We should enjoy everything nature has to offer and right now that’s…” She broke off and rose up on her toes to cover his mouth with hers.
His tongue teased her lips open then snuck inside where it coiled around hers. The sinuous glide of warmth and wetness awakened a renewed wave of desire in Meredith’s belly. Her body felt pliant and melting as she leaned into his hard muscles. His strong arms held her tight and his hands roamed up and down her back.
She wanted to see what that looked like, his hands stroking over the Tree of Life, so she ended the kiss and cast a glance over her shoulder at the mirror.
They looked beautiful together. Her body was pale and his a shade darker. Her ebony hair tumbled down her back and over his hands. His fingers were splayed wide and beneath them the etched lines of the drawing were dramatic against her white skin. One of his hands slipped down to clutch her ass and the sight of it was nearly as erotic as the feel of those strong, demanding fingers.
His breath blew against her hair and his glowing eyes studied their reflection, too. “You’re beautiful.” The low murmur of his voice vibrated from his chest into her breasts, which were mashed flat against him.
He kissed her hair then cupped her face and turned it back to him so he could kiss her. He pressed soft little pecks to the corners of her lips, her cheeks, nose, forehead and eyelids. Moving down to her jaw and throat, he licked and tasted her. He pushed the mass of her hair aside and nuzzled her shoulder.
She watched his face while he kissed her. His eyes were closed and the fringe of eyelashes across his cheekbones made her heart catch. He was so pretty. His mouth drifted across her chest and down to her breasts, suckling at one then the other. The tugging in her nipples sent a sharp ache down to her pussy. She sighed and petted his soft hair, letting it sift through her fingers.
Chris moved lower. He kissed the undersides of her breasts then knelt before her as he kissed his way down her belly. Gripping her hips, he brushed his cheek against the neatly trimmed hair at the junction of her legs. He blew a breath through the curls, ruffling them and tickling her clitoris.
She pushed her hips forward, seeking more than that teasing taste of pleasure. Parting the folds of her sex, he ran a teasing finger along her seam, making her shiver.
Meredith watched their reflection in the mirror as Chris leaned forward and kissed where his finger had touched. She loved the sight of him concentrating so intently on her intimate parts. And she liked the way she looked as he touched her there, her body yearning toward him and her eyes falling half closed. The eroticism of watching combined with the feel of his stroking tongue and fingers.
She arched toward him again, wanting even more. Her pussy yawned and ached to be filled.
As he continued to swirl his tongue around and over her clit, he slipped a finger inside her, then a second. A third. He drove them in and out and her muscles clenched around them, trying to pull them deeper.
His relentless tongue lapping at her clit brought her closer to the edge of orgasm. She moaned and grasped his head between her hands, thrusting toward his mouth. Oh, how sensual the pair of them looked in the mirror with the late afternoon sunlight from the window gilding them bronze. They shone like some erotic statue crafted by the follower of a pagan fertility goddess.
Meredith let her head fall back. The long column of her throat was exposed and vulnerable. Her hair was tangled and wild, and her body thrust wantonly toward her lover’s mouth and hands.
When he’d brought her to the very brink of climax, Chris stopped. He rose to his feet and grasped her buttocks, lifting her. Meredith wrapped her legs around him as he positioned her above his cock and slowly pushed inside.
He turned them so that her back was to the mirror. She guessed he was looking at his drawing on her back as he fucked her. She knew it when he whispered hoarsely, “You look so exotic, so beautiful. I can’t have enough of just looking at you.”
Smiling, she rested her head on his shoulder and held onto his broad shoulders while he moved inside her. She clenched around his shaft, holding him hard and letting go by increments as he slowly pulled out again. Once more he pressed deep and then deeper, pausing inside her without moving. She felt his cock pulsing—a throbbing, living piece of him that was part of her for a few brief seconds.
He let out a harsh breath and pulled back out. Then in, gliding on a slick of juices. Out…and in again. His slow movement grew faster. He rammed harder, grunting softly with every thrust.
Meredith held on tight and bore down as best she could with nothing supporting her besides his arms. His biceps bulged with the effort of holding her. He could have carried her to the bed, but continued to stand before the mirror, watching their lovemaking through heavy-lidded eyes.
She looked back over her shoulder, wanting to see what he saw. The image was startling. His legs were braced shoulder-width apart on the floor, calves trembling from the effort of supporting both their weight. His hands gripped her ass as he thrust into her. She looked delicate and feminine in his powerful arms. Her buttocks and legs tensed and the design on her back ebbed and flowed with her flexing muscles. Sweat glistened on their skin, and both their faces were drawn into frowns of concentration.
She turned her head into his shoulder again, opening her mouth to taste his salty skin, breathing in his animal scent. His cock filled her over and over, stretching and rubbing the lips of her vagina and hitting a spot deep within that made her gasp. Tendrils of desire coiled inside her like elusive wisps of smoke. The smoke thickened, coalesced, grew solid, it filled her and flooded her until she became one with the pleasure. Her orgasm wasn’t violent and vibrant, but subtle and profound. She shuddered against Chris as the waves swept through her. Her hands slipped on his sweaty shoulders and she renewed her grip, digging in with her nails.
He gave a small grunt of approval and increased his pace, ramming his cock deep and hard into her creaming pussy. The bliss of her climax was still vibrating through her when he came, too. His groan reverberated near her ear and his body froze. Inside, his cock pulsed and released in steady bursts.
Meredith clung to him even tighter, her ankles clasped behind his back, her torso pressed against him and her arms twined around his neck. Her breath came and went in uneven gasps. His did, too.
He finally broke from his stance before the looking glass and staggered with her over to the bed. Together they collapsed upon it in a tangle of limbs and sated bodies. Her hair was somehow trapped beneath his arm, pulling her head back awkwardly. He rolled them over so he was on the bottom without breaking their union.
For a long moment, they lay simply breathing and recovering their strength. Then her eyes opened, focused and looked deeply
into his.
“Thank you for my drawing. I’ll never wash my back again.” She laughed.
He touched the tip of her nose with his finger. “No. I’ll scrub it clean for you, as many baths as it takes. And then you’ll be a fresh page for me to draw on again.” He smiled and pressed a kiss where his finger had been before adding, “You’ll let me stay with you a long time simply to satisfy your curiosity about what I’ll draw next.”
She felt a sharp twist like a shard of glass ripping her heart at the reminder of an end to their affair—an end that she would bring about of her free will because this relationship was never meant to last.
“Design my greenhouse and then we’ll see,” was her non-committal reply.
Chapter Seven
Chris measured the spot where he intended to add another transplant bed in the greenhouse. Designing the space was tricky. Trays of seedlings needed room, but weren’t particularly attractive. Thus they were contained in a small area while the rest of the conservatory would be given over to fully mature plants and decorative touches like the fountain, benches and a preposterous trellis arch that Meredith insisted on having even though there clearly wasn’t enough room for it. The woman could be stubborn, although he had to admit for the most part she’d been very amenable to whatever he suggested.
He was as excited as a child at Christmas about the entire project. To be given a free hand and apparently limitless money to spend on whatever plants, flowers, shrubs and trees he chose was a dream come true. As a scientist, his desire was to choose exotic plants he’d like to study, but the design of the room must be attractive for a layperson as well. He felt he’d struck a nice balance in choosing plants that interested him and would please Meredith. If only she’d drop the idea of the trellis arch! It made no sense in the scheme of things, but she was so attached to it.
“Because it’s pretty!” she’d argued with him. “That’s why. I must have it.”
