I want to see you again.
The rounded end of the paintbrush touches her lips. She stares at her phone where it rests on the small side table that she keeps beside her easel for access to her pink water bottle. The brush slips between her lips, and I imagine my cock sinking into that lush mouth.
She doesn’t touch her phone for several long seconds. She’s looking at it like it’s a feral animal that might bite her if she makes a sudden move. The paintbrush is tapping against her lower lip now as she twirls it between her deft fingers. A small furrow creases her brow.
I forget how to breathe while the seconds tick over into a full minute.
She’s afraid of our connection for some reason. But she’s also intrigued. Tempted.
The way she’s toying with that damn brush is practically erotic, even if she has no idea how she’s tormenting me.
Fuck, I need to see her lovely eyes up close, to watch them darken with that intoxicating mix of trepidation and desire.
My cock stiffens, but I ignore my mounting lust. I’m rooted to the spot, frozen in breathless anticipation as I wait for her to pick up her phone and answer me.
There’s a slight tremor in her fingers when she finally bends to my will. She taps her screen, hesitates, then taps it again.
My phone chimes, and I suck in a deep breath.
Abigail
That sounds nice. Where do you want to meet?
I force myself to pause, determined to makeherwait. It’s only fair that she’s tormented by the same maddening uncertainty that plagues me every time I’m near her.
My mind races through potential dates, and my thumb strays toward the internet browser icon on my phone. For the hundredth time, I consider looking her up online. If I know more about her, I can manipulate her more easily.
I crush the impulse, forcing my way through the moment of weakness. Social media is anathema to me, and even if I created a fake account to stalk her, the information I would glean would be superficial. I’ve seen into Abigail’s soul, and I won’t be satisfied with a falsely cheery public persona that she might present to her friends online.
I will learn her secrets in person. She will surrender each one to me, until I possess her completely.
I return to our messages instead of opening the browser.
Dane
I’d like to surprise you. I can pick you up at six-thirty.
I need her to share her address willingly. Then I can come see her whenever I want.
The paintbrush dips between her lips again, and she grazes the tip with her teeth.
I nearly growl as my lust surges, but I manage to cling to my iron control.
My phone buzzes, and her address appears on my screen.
Triumph heats my chest, and I don’t have to hide the savage edge of my grin; I don’t have to wear my mask for anyone in this moment. I’m fully myself in a way I can only be with Abigail.
She’s not ready to see me like this yet, but one day, she’ll moan my name and tremble for me while I hold her with cruel passion.
I type out a confirmation of our plan to meet and then set my phone down, allowing her the quiet time she needs to paint. I won’t distract her again, not when I’m burning with curiosity to see what will coalesce on her canvas.
Time slips away as I watch her paint. It takes a while for the feverish brushstrokes to form a cityscape scene. For a short while, I’m mildly disappointed; I’d hoped for another dark fantasy tonight.
But then the Charleston skyline at sunset takes shape. The historic buildings are bathed in waning sunlight, syrupy and golden.
She’s painting our date.
This is far more intimate than an erotic scene. Those paintings reflect the dark desires she shares with GentAnon, but this view from the rooftop bar at The Magnolia is what she shares withme.
