“Oh God,” I moan as the tip of his finger pushes against my tight rear hole.
“Sheliked this, Gemma. She loved when I pushed my finger inside of her here.”
I feel his finger slip past the tight ring, but there’s no discomfort because my body is wound up from his insistent pounding.
As he thrusts deep one final time, pushing his finger all the way in, he tells me, “And she loved it even more when I fucked her here.”
That’s all it takes for me to scream, and, true to what he said earlier, the name that leaves my mouth is hers.
Sixteen
FEAR
FEAR ~
TODAY, I discovered that Phillipe was hiding something from me. It’s funny how you can be close to someone and not sense something so very obvious.
Over the last couple of months, I’ve posed, and Phillipe has painted. When we first started out, he told me that he wanted to touch the world and share beauty and emotion with it. Now, he seemed to be keeping the paintings close, keeping me close, and I wanted to know what was holding him back.
I couldn’t help but wonder if it was fear of the critics or fear of the unknown. Either way, I was determined to make him see what I knew the rest of the world would see. I found him down in the arbor this afternoon, and I finally got to the bottom of things.
“How long have you been out here?” I asked as my cane hit the bench.
“An hour or so,” he replied.
I could tell he’d stopped whatever it was he was doing.
“Are you finishing upAcquiesce?”
I could hear the crunch of the gravel as he moved, and then he took my hand, entwining our fingers.
“Yes, I just finished it now. I was trying to get the background just right.”
Nodding, I smiled, knowing what a perfectionist he really was, before I decided to just ask him what was on my mind. “When are you going to take the pieces to that little gallery we talked about?”
He released my hand. I felt him turn and walk away from me.
“Phillipe?” I asked quietly. Something was definitely bothering him. “Talk to me. Why don’t you want to go to town? That’s all you’ve talked about since we first started.”
As the silence stretched between us, I moved to the bench, sitting down. “Will you tell me what’s going on, please? Why won’t you call the gallery owner?”
“I don’t think I want to anymore,” he mumbled.
My mouth dropped open in shock. “What do you mean, you don’t want to? That’s all you’ve ever wanted.” I paused, trying to work out what might have changed his mind. “Is it me? Do you want a different model? I won’t be offended.”
Before I knew it, I felt him sit beside me and take my hands. “Are you crazy? No,” he answered, bringing my knuckles up to his lips.
“Then what?” I asked, running my hand through his hair. “Tell me.”
He turned his face so his lips touched the center of my palm. “I’m scared,” he confessed.
My heart clenched as I tried to understand this complex man I was hopelessly in love with. “Of what?”
“The world.”
Laughing a little, I shook my head. “That doesn’t make sense. Only months ago, you wanted to conquer it.”
There was silence for a moment, and I could hear his breathing. One steady breath in, and one long breath out. “Months ago, I had nothing to lose.”
