The next few days felt like a blur. A delicious, erotic blur that Oliver would cherish for the rest of his days. He kept waiting for this to be over. For Anna to suggest they continue on their way or go back to London. Or for Ezra to imply that he was finished with the game.
Only none of that happened. The roads were clear now, the air crisp but bright with sunshine. Yet each afternoon Ezra suggested they stay. And Anna agreed.
Ezra would paint them, breathing heavily as Oliver brought Anna to orgasm over and over, reveling in her taste and her scent and the way she shook around his body when she came in long, powerful waves. Then Ezra would join them and they would sink into each other, a puddle of arms and legs and cocks. Oliver was learning how both his lovers liked to be touched. He was reveling in how easy it was to make their respective breaths catch and legs shake.
It was magical. But Oliver knew it would end. He could pretend all he liked that he belonged with these two people, but he didn’t. He was a servant. He’d been raised by a servant to become a servant and live his entire life that way. At some point they would remember. At some point he would be dismissed and everyone’s life would move on.
That thought caused him pain and his long strides down the hallway faltered a little before he measured his response. He had been looking for Anna and Ezra for a few moments and couldn’t show his emotions when he found them.
He entered the studio and smiled, the fears and concerns dissipating naturally as he saw Anna standing at the window, bright sunshine falling over her face. For a moment she didn’t notice his entrance and he could just drink her in.
She was so entirely beautiful, both inside and out. He adored her beyond reason, loved her to distraction. A love that only grew the more they were able to share themselves with each other. Sometimes, when the moonlight would stream through the windows into Ezra’s room and hit her sleeping form, Oliver actually…ached.
“Good afternoon,” Anna said, turning toward him with a bright smile that was so warm. “You look very handsome, as usual.”
He smiled and crossed the room to her, heart skipping as she opened her arms and wrapped them around him. They kissed, her body sagging against his and she sighed with contentment. She didn’t exit his embrace as she looked up at his face.
“Have you seen Ezra?” she asked.
He shook his head. “No, I thought you’d be together.”
It was funny, his reaction to that concept. Part of him loved watching Anna with Ezra. Their connection was growing more powerful each day and certainly the other man knew how to please her. Anna being pleased was infinitely arousing.
But there was another part that was jealous. Just a kernel of that negative feeling.
“I assumed he’d be here, working on the piece,” she said, and motioned toward two canvases close by. They were both covered with cloths so one couldn’t see the image beneath. Anna slid her fingers along Oliver’s arm. “Should we peek?” she asked.
His eyes widened at the thought. “Ezra hasn’t shown us yet—do you think he’d want that?”
Anna’s bottom lip stuck out in a playful pout. “I only want to look,” she said. “After all, the piece is you and me, we deserve to know, don’t we?”
He choked back a laugh as she leaned against him. She did know how to get a man on her side of an issues. “I suppose,” he conceded softly, “that as the subjects of the piece, we could argue we ought to be able to see it.”
She smiled broadly. “Good!” She moved to the two canvases and stared. “I wonder which one it is? Do you think he’s working on two pieces?”
“I have no idea,” Oliver asked as he watched her, amused by her enthusiasm. “I suppose there is only one way to find out. Pick one.”
She looked at him over her shoulder with a wicked expression. “Oh, if there’s one thing you two have taught me, it’s that I never have to pick just one.”
With that she tugged the cloths from both canvases and together they stared. The painting on the right was the one they’d posing for, and both of them caught their breath at once.
The image was beautiful. In it, Anna was straddled over Oliver, his mouth against her breast, her fingers dug into his hair. He couldn’t almost feel the pressure of them, it was so real. Her head was thrown back and to the side so that her face couldn’t be seen or identified, but the passion was evident either way.
Her hand trembled as she extended it and then let it drop without touching the image. “Oh,” she breathed, her voice shaking. “It’s…it’s wonderful.”
“Yes,” he agreed, and swallowed hard. Was this how they looked when they were tangled? It was glorious and arousing. And he would have been aroused except for one problem: Ezra hadn’t just captured the intimacy of their physical joining, he’d captured something else, too.
While Anna’s face was turned so that her identity would be protected, Oliver’s was clear The image of him captured his face upturned, mouth latched against her breast, yes, but his gaze was focused on her. And the fact that he loved her was plain as the color of his hair or the arch of her back.
He swallowed hard at seeing the naked emotion there. The naked love and pain and hope and fear all streaked across the lines of his face.
“Who…who is she?” Anna said softly.
Oliver forced himself to stop looking at the portrait of them and to the other picture that had been covered. It wasn’t, as he had expected, of him and Anna. No, this was a different woman with black hair and green eyes. She was posed on her knees, lifted up slightly, looking straight on toward the artist. She was naked, but she held a blanket up to partly cover herself. It fell between her legs, giving some tiny scrap of modesty.
Anna moved closer. “She’s beautiful,” she breathed. “Almost alive.”
“She is,” Oliver agreed. “I wonder what—”
