“Both times, need I remind you, are due to no fault of my own,” I point out with as much dignity as I can find.
He takes hold of the material in my hand and tugs gently. I don’t want to let it go because I know that if I give in, he’s going to do something. Something that will make me forget why I’m annoyed. Something that will turn me into a person I don’t quite understand.
“Let go, Gemma.”
Reluctantly, I obey, and he drops the clothing on the floor, leaving me in just my sweater.
“I stopped talking becauseshetells it much better, which you will discover when you read it.”
I shiver at the mention of her and swallow as he brings his hand still holding the paintbrush up.
“And I stopped painting because I realized you are missing something important.”
My heart almost stops at the thought that this man finds me lacking in any way. As ridiculous as it seems, I now want him to want me, no matter how wrong it is.
“Well, I’m sorry you feel that way.” I stand there, staring up into eyes that are daring me to run.
I try not to flinch when he reaches down with the paintbrush, running the soft bristles across my vulnerable mound, still naked and on display for him. I bite my bottom lip to keep from moaning as he raises a brow and moves his hand lower, letting the bristles tickle and flirt their way down between my thighs.
Looking down our bodies, I find myself transfixed by the scene I’m witnessing. With his big fingers wrapped around the paintbrush, he gently continues to stroke it against my clit. I can’t help but reach up to grip his inactive arm, steadying myself.
Widening my stance, I raise my eyes to his as he leans down and licks my bottom lip with his tongue.
“Gemma.” He sighs against my mouth.
“Yes?”
“You like this? The soft tickle of the brush against your clit?”
I don’t know what he expects from me at this stage, because I seem to have lost the ability to speak. All thought disappears as the brush dips lower and he slides it through my arousal. I wonder if he’s going to do what I think.Will he take it there?
Panting heavily, I part my lips against his and can’t help myself from taking a bite of his full bottom lip. That’s when I feel his depraved smile appear. He shifts his hand, and the brush disappears deep inside of me.
Gripping his arm tight, I know I’m going to leave nail marks. I moan and open my eyes to stare into green ones filled with decadence and desire. His desire is so hot that it’s burning me, melting me from the inside out.
“Now, this is much more fun. Don’t you think, Gemma?”
I blink at him, my breathing accelerating. He starts to slowly pull the paintbrush from my body, the bristles tickling me on their way out.
“This is the way I think I should always paint you—with a size twenty-four round brush in my hand as you coat the bristles.” Leaning down beside my ear, he asks, “What do you think, Gemma? Do you like beingpaintedthis way?”
All I can think is that being painted by him feels a lot like being fucked by him, but he already knows that.
“Phillipe…”
He thrusts the brush back up inside me, and my hips start to flex against his sinful hand. I turn my head so our mouths are almost touching. I feel myself getting impossibly wetter, and he licks his lips as his hand shifts again.
“This is wrong,” I say, panting.
He grins demonically, nibbling my lip. “All the best things are,” he agrees. He drags the brush out from my confused and needy body and then pushes it back inside. “Now, close your eyes and go with it. Who cares if it’s wrong? How does it feel?”
I have no words for him as I grind down on the brush that is now deep inside of me. All I can do is what he told me—feel.
He starts to thrust it in and out of me, quicker with each movement, and that’s when I hear him softly humming Pachelbel’s Canon in D in my ear. Everything about the situation is fucked up.
What he’s doing and how I’m responding isbeyondfucked up, but there’s not one thing I can do when he bites my ear. Ishout out my shockingly intense and inappropriate climax. Once again, I find myself unsure and ashamed of how I’m left feeling.
Phillipe took me back to the chateau after my performance and told me how moved he was watching me play. I could tell by the way he spoke to me that something was different.
