A side angle of two lovers, naked and unabashed upon the top of the suspended bed caught mid-swing in the air. A man was sitting in the middle of the bed, his muscled legs out straight; his arms locked around the waist of the woman straddled atop him. Her legs curled around his waist, her arms locked around his neck. Their lips caught between one another’s in a deep kiss.
She added more details as Tristan’s ministrations continued to sink her body deeper into a heady space of relaxation and need.She added bulging veins to the man’s muscular arms; defined their locked lips, their lashes pressed to their cheeks.
Then she focused on the background, letting Tristan’s kisses take her imagination wherever it wanted to go. She drew the swing not in the room she had seen it in, but placed it instead within a forest. The ropes became flowering vines. The floor beneath became a reflecting pool of water, mirroring their image. She added stars and a full to moon the sky, shaded in the shadows that would be cast.
She let the charcoal drop from fingertips when she finished, and finally closed her eyes and sank back into Tristan’s chest. His arm came around her waist then, pressing her tightly to him as he skimmed the tip of his nose over the nape of her neck and gently nudged to loll her head to the other side. She did so without thought, and let out a low moan as he wrapped a hand around the front of her throat and squeezed lightly as his teeth sank into the flesh right below her ear.
Pleasure scorched through her like lightning, taking away all thought and freedom of movement. Her hands come up on their own volition and tightened in the silken locks of his hair, locking his mouth into his neck as spasm after delicious spasm traveled from her bitten neck to her womb.
Then Tristan’s teeth let up from the hold on her neck, and she whimpered as his soft lips and tongue lavished the small wound. Slowly her hands uncurled from his hair, dropping to her sides like dead weights as she drew in heavy breaths and fought thedizziness that had taken over her. As she attempted to recover, her mind focused on one singular thought.
I feel so much already. Just from his mouth at my neck. What would happen to me if I let him continue?”
“It is beautiful,” Tristan murmured against her skin.
It took her a moment to gather strength to speak.
“What is?” She finally breathed.
Tristan’s deep chuckle at her ear had another delicious shiver running down her spine.
“Your sketch. A pity we will not be able to use it.”
Ophelia forced her eyes open, fighting though the heavy layers of arousal Tristan had sank her in, and whirled on him with a look of hurt.
“Why not?” She asked, then gasped as she saw the pure lust shining in Tristan’s dark eyes; his pupils so dilated that nearly all of that magnificent blue was gone.
A feral sound rumbled from Tristan’s chest, and he spun her around again, pinning her back to his chest as his hand once more settled around her throat.
“Look, Ophelia,” his raw, deep voice commanded as he nipped at her ear. “Look at what you created. What do you see?”
Ophelia forced her eyes to lock on the canvas, ignoring the new surge of lust that was hitting her, and studied her work. At first all she saw was the beautiful details she’d added. The curves and muscles of the intertwined bodies. The look of raw passion etched across their faces. Then she saw it, and gasped.
It wasn’t only that she had forgotten to draw masks on the people in her sketch.Theywere the people in the sketch. She had drawn herself and Tristan.
Color flooded into her cheeks as she realized her grave mistake, and pushed away from Tristan’s hold. She reached for the canvas, ready to rip it in half, but then Tristan’s hands were there, pulling her fingers away from the sketch and pressing her palms together as he made her step away from her work.
“What do you think you are doing?” He asked.
“Destroying it,” Ophelia stated, looking back at her piece, “I have to. It exposes both of us.”
She looked up at him with wide-eyed panic and shook her head.
“Tristan, I swear, I did not know I was doing that. I was- it was the experiment! It-it-”
Tristan’s chuckle both eased and annoyed her, and she gave him an exasperated look.
“Why are you laughing at me?” She demanded.
Tristan pressed his lips together as if to stop his laughter and shook his head.
“You are not destroying it,” he stated.
“You said yourself you cannot use it,” she retorted. “And I agree! We cannot let even your members see this! What if someone would recognize us?”
“That does not mean I am not keeping it,” he replied, then his eyes shifted to the sketch again.
“I will keep it for my private collection.”
