Page 13

Chapter Ten

Sonnet

Showing her this morning’s artwork was far less nerve-wracking than the reveals I’d done for her last night.

Not only was this personal, but this was all for her and a direct reflection of the night we’d shared in my bedroom.

The mirror was the first thing I’d painted, wide, oval, and tall in its metal stand.

I’d found it at a thrift store and painted the frame a deep, royal purple so that it stood out among the lighter hues of purple in the rest of my room.

Her hair was the second thing I’d painted, wanting to capture the luster of it with the soft overhead light glinting off the deeper hues in those beautiful strands.

My hips, with one of her hands holding me steady, had been next, remembering my lessons in perspective to create enough distance between our bodies that the most intimate part of me was visible in the mirror as she’d stared up, admiring it as she stroked over my clit.

I’d sought to capture the softness as well as the beads of moisture she’d been coaxing from my folds with each slow, shudder-producing touch.

“Damn,” she murmured as she stared, drinking in the moment I’d begun to capture, though I was far from finished yet. “So stunning.”

I flushed a little at that. “Not nearly as stunning as watching it happen last night.”

“You have a wonderful eye for detail, and memory too.”

“I have to when moments happen so fast that sometimes there’s no time to take a photograph.”

“Yes, I can see where a sharp memory would be important in those situations.”

“The only drawback is that other things start muddying up the image in my head if I don’t start painting or at least sketching it out right away.”

“How long have you been up?”

“Just a few hours.”

Her eyes narrowed a little. “How much is a few?”

“Three.”

“Sonnet no. Honey, you are going to start getting more rest, even if it means naps while the paint dries.”

“I try.”

“Trying isn’t enough,” she replied as she reached out to brush her fingertip beneath my eye. “Your eyes are too beautiful to have circles as dark as the ones you’re sporting beneath them. I can see that you’re not getting enough rest.”

“I just wanted to give you what you asked for,” I replied, shuffling a half step away as I ducked my head.

She didn’t like that and cupped me beneath the chin, raising my face until our eyes met again.

“I love it, but nothing in the world is worth you exhausting yourself the way you’ve been doing,” she said.

“I may not be an artist, but I know that to do any task to the best of your ability, you have to be well rested with a full belly and plenty of downtime to let you recharge between each endeavor. We will be heading back to bed just as soon as we’ve had breakfast. Don’t even think about making coffee, either; we can have some after our nap. ”

“Yes, Mistress,” I replied, her tone serious and stern enough that I washed the brush I’d been using and turned my focus from the painting to brainstorming what to have for breakfast, which I tended to skip more often than not.

“I’ve got a few plums and peaches; we can make a fruit salad with eggs and toast to go with them,” I offered once I’d peeked in the fridge.

“Perfect,” she replied. “Light but filling at the same time. What can I do to help?”

“Can you chop the fruit?” I asked, pulling out two peaches and two plump plums and setting them on the counter for her so I could retrieve the cutting board from its hook on the wall.

“I’d be happy to,” she replied as she washed her hands in the sink.

“How do you like your eggs?”

“Scrambled with a hint of hot sauce.”

I giggled at that because spicy was how she seemed to like a lot of things, including me.

“And what’s so amusing?” she asked.

“Scrambled is my favorite too. I melt a little cheese in while they cook, but I can make yours without it if you’d like.”

“No, I like cheese in mine too, though I doubt that’s why you were laughing.”

“The hot sauce,” I finally admitted. “Spicy things seem to be a favorite of yours.”

“Especially when I’m around you,” she said, dancing her fingertips up the back of my neck to make me shiver. “But most particularly when I’m watching you let go of all your inhibitions.”

“That’s easy to do when I’m around you.”

“And why is that?” she asked as I sighed and finally moved away so I could get the eggs out.

“Because you don’t want me to hold back,” I replied. “And you don’t make me feel ashamed of my fantasies and desires. I know we’re just getting to know one another, but I already feel like I can just be myself around you and not have to worry about being chastised or ridiculed.”

“Which tells me that someone else made you feel that way and trampled all over your self-confidence in the process.”

“I doubt he meant for things to turn out that way,” I said. “He was just doing his best in a bad situation.”

“What situation and who do I need to have words with for treating you that way?”

Sighing, I debated how much to say and how much was too much to reveal about my past and the person who finished raising me.

“Sonnet?” she said, a note of warning in her voice when I remained quiet for too long.

“My uncle was a confirmed bachelor when I wound up on his doorstep and considerably older than my parents. He didn’t know anything about raising teenagers, let alone a girl who was constantly dabbling in something.

He was afraid that me being as free-spirited as I was, I’d get into trouble or attract the wrong kind of attention and get hurt,” I explained.

“I know he loves me in his own way; there was just a huge learning curve to conquer, and we both messed up a lot along the way. I was kind of angry and rebellious when I went to live with him, and he was at a bit of a loss for what to do when I kept defying him.”

“Did he ever lay a hand on you?”

“Never, not once,” I said as I cracked the eggs.

“But the language he used wasn’t exactly kid-friendly, even for an older kid like me, so there were times when he was just harsh and sharp when he spoke and times when he cited news articles about other girls who’d snuck out or done this and that and gotten themselves hurt or killed in the process. ”

“Was sneaking out something you did often?”

“In the beginning, yes,” I admitted. “I was used to doing whatever I wanted, since my folks were rarely at home or paying attention. It was hard to learn to live by his rules, and he said more than once that he hated being in a position to make them since he wasn’t a fan of rules himself.”

She shot me a side eye, knife still and poised over the chopping block, one fruit finished while the others waited for her attention.

“Did something happen to make you start listening to him?”

“I snuck out,” I admitted, squirming beneath her scrutiny.

“And?”

“Went to a party?”

“And?” she prodded again, never taking her eyes off me.

“Got jumped by a bunch of girls who thought I was being a showoff and trying to steal their boyfriends,” I explained.

“Only it wasn’t their boyfriends whose attention I was after; it was another girl who was there who’d kind of been flirting with me at school.

Only when everything popped off, she sort of ran away and hid so she wouldn’t get jumped too. ”

“I hope that ended your infatuation with her.”

“Yeah, it did,” I admitted. “I found out later that she thought they were jumping me for being a lesbian.”

“Doesn’t matter what she thought was happening; if she cared about you, she’d have done something to help, even if it was just to scream, holler, and make a ton of noise until someone called the cops or came to help you.”

“I know.”

“Good,” she growled, hacking the second plum with far more fierceness than she’d chopped the first. “I hate that you had to endure that. Growing up is hard enough without people making it harder with their bullshit. I hope you reported what happened.”

“My uncle made sure of it once he found out what happened,” I explained.

“He nearly got himself arrested after he paid a visit to their houses to have words with their parents; it was such a mess. I’ve never been so scared.

Not just because of what happened, but because it almost cost me the first stable, available person I’d ever had in my life. ”

I hoped that eased some of her growliness towards my uncle, who was still a part of my life.

While we didn’t get together often, he always popped up around the holidays and my birthday to both spoil me and thrill me with whatever adventures he’d gotten up to since we’d seen one another last. Introducing them would be inevitable if we were going to make this new relationship a long-term thing, and I’d hate for it to get off on the wrong foot.

It wasn’t long before the eggs and toast were ready and the fruit salad was in bowls, drizzled with a bit of lemon juice and a squeeze of lime.

I cut up the rest of the lime and put it in the water pitcher for later.

It would be a refreshing addition to whatever was on the menu for lunch.

While she added hot sauce to her eggs, I topped mine with a dollop of ketchup and giggled as she raised an eyebrow at me.

“Another gift from my uncle,” I explained as I put the ketchup back. “We always ate our scrambled eggs this way. This one time, we ran out of ketchup and tried grape jelly, which wasn’t bad, especially with a sprinkle of red pepper flakes to cut the sweetness a little.”

It was a good thing she wasn’t drinking anything when I said it because she snorted and scrubbed a hand over her face, fork landing on her plate with a rattling clank.

“And you stood there giggling at my hot sauce.”

“Only because you and spicy have become synonymous in my head,” I explained.

“Would you think it strange if I said I was curious to try scrambled eggs with grape jelly and red pepper flakes the next time you make them?”

“Nope. It will be fun to try them that way again.”

Yawning, I took the seat across from her with a sudden realization that I was actually tired and more than ready to lay back down, especially if that meant more time getting to snuggle up beside her and be cuddled in her embrace.

“Eat up, Kitten. I think the sandman is calling your name.”

“Yup, and loudly too,” I replied before digging in.

While last night had been fun and romantic as we’d fed one another, this morning just felt domestic and blissfully tranquil.

Eating breakfast with her felt like the most natural thing in the world, and the best part about it was the way my thoughts stayed firmly fixed in the moment and never once strayed to the project in the other room or the rambling list of other artistic ideas that usually tumbled through it when I took a break.

Instead of scarfing so I could hurry back to my work, I took my time savoring each bite and sipped the apple juice I’d poured us to go with our meal instead of guzzling it down at the end, right before I rushed to rinse everything and put it in the dishwasher.

It was just so easy to take my time when I was with her.

Maybe it was because she took her time too, or maybe it was how much I enjoyed being in the moment with her without feeling like I needed to do something extra to hold her attention.

The way she watched me in between bites and smiled when I caught her watching me settled me in the same way having her hands on my body did. In those moments I could just relax, breathe, and know that I was cherished for just being me.

It really was the most amazing feeling in the world.