Page 18 of Sinful Skulls (Rebel Skull MC #9)

Chapter Seventeen

Daisy

B rody made me drink a bottle of water as he cleaned me up. I was pretty much comatose; my entire body was so relaxed I could hardly move. When he finished, he crawled back into bed with me.

He pushes the hair out of my eyes as we lie facing each other. “Go back to sleep,” he whispers.

“Yes, sir.” I give him a dopy grin as my eyes fall closed. I feel his fingertips lightly brush over my eyelids.

“Sweet dreams, my little flower.”

The next time they open, he’s gone. I make my way through the cabin to find him in the kitchen. “Something smells good,” I say shyly, sitting down across the counter from him.

Brody looks up from his task and smiles. “Don’t move,” he orders, and my stomach flips clean upside down. Lord, what is wrong with me?

He digs through the fridge before pulling out a plate of fruit and setting it in front of me. “Eat.”

I’m starting to wonder if my stomach has gone and joined the circus the way it flips and dips around this man.

His eyes remain on me until I bite into a strawberry, and then he goes back to the meal he’s preparing.

“My phone is on the mantel. It’s powered off, but if there is an emergency you can use it.”

I glance behind me to look for it.

He continues to stir the sauce on the stove as he talks. “You seemed reluctant to turn yours on the other day.”

“Thank you. I just don’t want to face the messages from my parents.”

When he remains quiet, I try to justify my statement. “They didn’t feel the need to tell me who the fuck I am, so why should I have to tell them anything?”

“Maybe they had their reasons.”

I sit up straight, my feathers ruffled. “Are you saying I owe them something?”

“All I’m trying to say is I know you don’t want them to worry. You’re a kind person. I haven’t known you long, but I think I know that much.”

“I don’t want them to worry.”

“So why are you making them?”

“I don’t know. I can’t deal with it right now.”

“Then why not text them that you’re safe and you just need a fucking minute?”

My lips slip between my teeth, because I can’t tell him why. My biological father had me followed. I know it’s true because he had the paintings that I threw away. What would stop Henry from doing the same? I can’t risk it.

Brody shakes his head. “There’s a lot going on up there.” He points his spoon toward my head.

I’m tired of him making me feel bad about this. I take the plate of fruit and move out to the patio. I know he’s right, though. They’ll be terribly worried if they find out I left Paris.

He joins me after letting me cool off for a bit. He steps behind me and begins to rub my shoulders.

“I’m sorry,” I mumble.

“You don’t have to apologize. I’m sorry for pushing you. I just know that if you went missing from me, I’d be out of my mind.”

“I will contact them eventually. I just need some time.”

“Okay. I won’t bring it up again.”

I take his hand in mind and bring it to my cheek. “Thank you.”

“Lunch is done. Would you like to eat out here?”

“Yeah, that would be nice.” I stand up and help move everything outside.

We’re both quiet as we eat, but every time his gaze roams over me, it’s like a sweet caress. It’s strange having someone know my body so intimately, and I feel like we’ve just begun.

He leans back in his chair and rubs his stomach. It makes me giggle. This man does love a good meal.

“I love listening to your laugh.”

It makes me drop my head shyly, but it warms me. Brody has a way of speaking to me that is so unique to anyone else. His words light me up on the inside, and god, I really need that right now. He keeps me in balance.

“What are you thinking about?” he asks, leaning forward curiously.

I fan myself. “You,” I admit.

His grin widens. “How are you feeling after this morning?”

I wiggle in my seat, and he chuckles.

“I’m a bit sore, but I love the reminder.”

He looks pleased with my response, and he nods. “I think we’ll take it easy today. We really need to talk before we do more.” He points up to the second floor to let me know what he means. “Maybe you could do some painting?”

I push my bottom lip out in a pout.

It doesn’t deter him. “I know we can’t seem to keep our hands off each other, but I want you to know I’m interested in more than one thing from you.”

“Fine,” I grumble, hiding a smile behind my napkin because again … balance.

“I set all of your art supplies in the sunroom. Don’t hold back. You said you were going to Paris to explore your art unrestrained. Do that here. Let go of your fear and just create.”

My hand rubs over my chest. “Okay.”

We clean up together, and then he heads outside to relax.

I decide to try a new medium and grab the sketchbook and charcoal pencils.

The sunroom is nice, but before long, I find myself upstairs.

My fingers dance over the whips and chains, and my mind begins to wander.

Again, these items stir my curiosity, but it’s nothing without Brody.

I pull back the curtains and watch as he stretches out on the lounge chair outside. He has his shirt off. He’s magnificent.

My feet carry me down the steps before I change my mind. I hurry outside, sliding to a stop in front of him. He sits upright.

“Can I draw you?”

His brows rise in surprise. “Me?”

“Yeah,” I say, hugging my sketchbook to my chest.

“What do I have to do?” he asks.

“Nothing. Just take a nap or whatever. Don’t worry; I’ll follow you around.”

He chuckles, running his hand through his hair. “I guess if that’s what you want to do.”

“It is.” I plop down in a chair near him and open the sketch book.

“No paints?”

I shake my head, already starting. “I felt like trying something else today.”

He seems satisfied with that and folds his arms behind his head, closing his eyes. His rugged beauty makes my heart weep. As I’m sketching, I begin to imagine myself on my knees in front of him.

It’s dark, but I try not to think about it. My art may be dark, but it’s not pitch black like my family’s. I’m breathing life into my portrait, not sucking it out.

There’s desire with no death.

Brody stretches, and my eyes trail every shadow of ink as the sun touches his skin. I pay tribute to every muscle, every scar. His hands … I could spend hours on them alone. I close my eyes for a moment and imagine them on me.

When I return to the real world, he’s staring at me.

“How’s it going?” he asks, rubbing his hand over his chest.

I swallow hard before answering. “Good.”

“Do you want me to pose?” The smirk on his face kicks my pulse to an alarming rhythm.

The way my head drops and I look away in embarrassment has him chuckling with determination. He pops the button on his jeans, slowly sliding the zipper down.

“I thought we were keeping our hands to ourselves the rest of today?”

His hand slides down the front of his pants. “I am keeping my hands to myself.”

The whimper that leaves my lips is nothing short of embarrassing.

He continues to pleasure himself, not the least bit uneasy about it. “Tell me, my little flower, how do you make yourself come?” he asks.

I can literally feel that my cheeks are on fire. My head dips, and I continue to draw, my fingers stained with charcoal as I blend, and shade.

“Do you use your hand? Or do you have toys?”

“Brody.” I glance up, almost passing out because he’s shoved his pants down and his beautiful cock is on full display the tip glistening in the sunlight.

My thighs squeeze together, and I shift in my chair.

“Answer,” he demands.

“Both,” I whisper.

He groans, and the way he begins to stroke himself has me choking on air. I set my sketchbook aside to go to him, but he stops me.

“No. You keep right on sketching. You said I could do whatever I wanted. I want to fuck myself while watching you in your element.”

I sit back in the chair, admiring the pleasure on his face. This is a form of torture I didn’t know was possible.

My creative side is intrigued. My hand brushes across the page while my gaze bounces between it and the sexiest thing I’ve ever witnessed.

He manages to drag it out for longer than I thought possible before he tips his head back and grabs himself more roughly.

His hand slides up and down while twisting at the same time.

His muscles tense, and holy fuck, I think I might come too.

His cum splashes over his stomach, and I set my tablet down mesmerized by everything about him. He’s different from anyone I’ve ever met, and I love that he’s picked me to share his time with.

He drops his head, locking eyes with me. His gaze is dark and promising. “Lick it off,” he orders.

My stomach jumps before I do. I walk over and straddle his legs. Slowly, without looking away from him, I lick up every fucking drop.

This. This is what I crave. It has nothing to do with the implements upstairs. It’s the way he is with me. I love the way he dominates me with his presence. He’s slow and steady, yet unpredictable and exciting.

My soul is sighing by the time I’ve finished.

“Did you see the chair upstairs?” he asks, tucking himself in his pants.

I nod.

“Would you like to try it?”

Again, I nod.

“You sure? ‘Cause it might not be as pleasant as you imagine.”

“I have my safe word.”

“That’s right. You do, and I expect you to use it if you need to.”

His words have me climbing off him, ready for whatever I’m about to experience.

“Let me see the sketch.”

My enthusiasm deflates. “Now?”

“Is it not done?”

I scratch my head. “Well, yeah, I mean a work of art is never really done, you just have to stop working on it.” I laugh.

“Please share it with me.”

Why am I worried about what he’ll think? Especially after everything we’ve already done together?

I pick it up off the table and walk back over to him. He sits on the edge of the lounge and tugs on my wrist until I lower myself beside him.

“It’s … it’s different than what you’ve seen,” I warn him.

He holds out his palm, and I hand it to him. I watch his reaction. His eyebrows jump on his face, and his mouth falls open. He snaps it shut and wraps his arm around me. “Wow.”

It makes me laugh lightly.

His gaze runs over the sketch of himself. He’s naked from the hips up, his arm is outstretched, and his fingers are wrapped around the end of a leash.

“It’s us.” He turns to look at me.

You can’t see that it’s me. All you see of the woman is the tips of her knees. The rest is left to the imagination. Follow the leash, and you’ll find me at the end.

“This is incredible, Daisy. Fuck, you made me look sexy as hell.”

“You are sexy as hell.” I giggle.

He kisses me on the forehead. “Now I see how this worked with Lexie. You just doubled my confidence.”

“In college I learned a lot of different art forms and techniques. I really enjoyed sketching you today.”

“It was very enjoyable, wasn’t it?” His gaze darkens, and he takes my hand in his, pulling me to my feet.

“Go upstairs and undress. I’ll be up in a minute.”

I hesitate at the bottom of the steps not looking at him. “You … you don’t think my art is strange?”

“No. I don’t.”