Page 10

“Later. Right now, I want you to strike a pose,” he says, his brows scrunching up in concentration.

I don’t know what it is, but all of a sudden, I feel the need to make him let loose and let go of his tightly held control. So I strike the silliest pose I can think of, making a goofy expression. I burst into laughter at his shocked expression—I know he wasn’t expecting that. Then I strike another, and another, making crazy facial expressions until he’s laughing alongside me.

After a few minutes, his laughter dies down to chuckles and he says, “Be serious, Bella.”

“Alright,” I say, giggling softly. I push down the soft coverlet, feeling bolder. I strike the most provocative pose I can think of, enjoying the way his gaze traces over the skin of my breasts and down to my now exposed sex between my spread legs.

Roman’s brush freezes mid-air and I watch his eyes go dark with desire. “Perfect,” he says with approval, then continues to swipe his brush as if nothing happened. “Don’t move,” he orders as he bends his head to swipe his brush over the easel, glancing up at intervals.

Every dark stare from him heightens my need to be touched. I chose the erotic pose to shake his composure, but it turns out that I’m the one most affected by it. My breath comes out in heavy pants and my sex floods with every stare from those gray eyes. Every brushstroke feels like a phantom hand grazing my skin, making me feel sensitive and responsive all over. My nipples peak and I can almost feel his breath against my skin.

“You look ready to come,” Roman says with a raised brow, as if unaffected, and I moan in response.

The only indication that he’s enjoying this as much as I am is the darkening of his gray eyes. And his aloofness only makes me wetter. I squeeze my thighs together, sliding one subtly over the other, hoping to ease the ache.

“If I sink my fingers into your pussy, will I find it soaking wet?” he asks as his eyes trace over my body again, his words causing the ache to grow.

I moan softly in response, pleading with my eyes. The torture continues for a few minutes until he finally finishes with his painting. “Done,” he states, then puts down the brush.

He looks at me with a hooded gaze. “You want me to ease the ache, baby?” he asks in a soft, rough tone.

“Y-yes,” I whisper brokenly.

“Baby, as much as I want to fuck you and make you come hard, I can’t. You’re still sore from last night,” he explains, and I moan in disappointment.

“I want you to do something else. Touch yourself,” he commands.

I inhale sharply, my eyes going wide. I’ve never done this before. “I-I don’t…” I stutter, blushing hard under his stare.

“You’ve never touched yourself before?” he asks in surprise, and I nod in response. “That’s okay, baby. I’ll guide you through it,” he reassures me. “I want you to caress your breasts and gently roll your nipples between your fingers.”

We stare at each other and I grow wetter under his gaze as I slide my hand to my breasts and gently tease my nipples, then roll them between my fingers like he instructed. Warm tingles grow under my ministrations, Roman’s gaze causing goose bumps all over my body. I continue to knead and roll my nipples until I’m gyrating and writhing.

“Good. Now, circle your fingers over your clit, then slowly dip them in your pussy,” he rasps roughly.

My hands glide down my breasts to my aching sex and my thighs fall open. A moan falls from my lips as I rotate my finger over my clit, my wetness serving as lubrication. Our gazes remain connected as pleasure mounts and the ache in my core blooms with every stroke. I whimper as the sensations climb higher and the need to let go grows. I moan, staring into Roman’s cloudy gaze. Then, I slowly slide a finger inside my wet channel, whimpering softly at the dual sensations, amplified by his presence. The need in his eyes, in addition to the stroke of my fingers and thumb, pushes me over the edge.

“Ohh,” I moan aloud, quivering and jerking as my pussy slicks up and I climax, continuing to flick my clit and trembling softly as my orgasm gradually subsides.

I withdraw my hands, looking up to find Roman’s potent stare on me, and my cheeks heat up at being watched as I pleasure myself. “Don’t be shy,” Roman growls, and I giggle at his chiding look, my embarrassment forgotten.

“Can I see the painting now?” I ask as I don his discarded shirt after cleaning up in the bathroom.

“Of course.”

I head to his side and gasp, speechless. Before me is a lifelike painting of my first pose. My head and shoulders are resting on the pillow, my hair spread out around me, and my body is covered by the blanket. I look sultry—my eyes are dark with desire. My hair is like a wild wave, draping over my shoulders, and my cleavage peeks out just a little.

“This is perfect. You’re really good,” I say breathily, still in awe as I stare at the portrait. Then I turn to face him with a frown. “But, why did you tell me to strike more poses, if you were going to paint the first one anyway?” I ask, hiding a smile.

Roman’s lips twitch as he straightens and tugs me onto his lap, my arms instinctively encircling his neck. “You don’t really think I’d let anyone else see your beautiful body? You’re mine, baby, and I don’t share,” he murmurs as he nuzzles my neck.

My heart melts at his words, and I find myself wishing I could stay in this cocoon forever. I shake my head and smile. “That’s so possessive. I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone like you.”

“You better not,” he says, and growls playfully into my neck, making me giggle breathlessly.

I shift my body sideways, dropping an arm to look at the portrait again. “It’s truly beautiful. Thank you,” I whisper.

His hands tighten around my waist in response, and I place my chin on his head, settling deeper into his arms as I stare at the painting. Suddenly, I’m reminded of my father. It’s sad and sentimental at the same time, as I think about the times he used to paint portraits of me.