Maybe but that’s how I feel. I want it to be just him and me. I want him to own me.
Here with me—that’s where I want him to be. I want to be with him in this little room where we sleep and forget about the rest of the world. Forget about the fame. Forget about the stupid paintings! They are the reasons for everything that happened tonight.
Those stupid paintings! I wish he’d never painted them.
Now, the world wants him, and he wants the world.
I just want him.
“Phillipe, she was angry. We always say or write things when we’re angry.”
Closing his eyes, he places the journal by him on the bed.
I’m disappointed. I want to know more. I want to know what else she wrote.
Spreading his legs apart, he beckons me forward. Moving closer, I step between his naked thighs as he raises his hands to my hips. Leaning forward, he places his mouth against my stomach, just above my navel. I take a deep breath and bring my hands to his hair. Threading my fingers through it, I brush his hair softly and lean his head back, so his face is upturned with his eyes focused on mine.
“She loved you completely. Even when she was angry, she wrote that she loved you.”
Blinking slowly, he remains silent.
I confess softly, “She was intoxicated, just as I am.”
Nestling his head forward, he flicks his tongue against the small indentation in my tummy. Against my flesh, he reveals, “God help me, so am I, Gemma.”
He didn’t leave me alone for long. He came back, not even ten minutes later, and hugged me in his arms.
“Don’t be angry at me,” he begged.
There was no way I could stay annoyed.
Wrapping my arms around him, I admitted, “I’m scared.”
He pulled back from me to kiss my forehead. “What are you scared of?”
Taking a deep breath, I decided to be honest because he was always honest with me. “I’m scared of losing you. Sometimes, I wish I’d never told you to go to the gallery.”
I closed my eyes as he stroked my hair.
“Nothing, Chantel, nothing will ever take me away from you.”
Tears formed in my eyes, and I tried to blink them away. I tried to hide them from him.
“Will you do something for me?” he asked.
Raising a hand, I swiped my eye and nodded. “Yes. What is it?”
“Come to town with me.”
“Phillipe, it’s nearly 1 a.m.”
“It doesn’t matter. This place stays open late.” He paused as he took my hand in his. “Trust me?”
I smiled tremulously at him. “I trust you.”
I can feel Phillipe’s teeth as he nibbles around my navel. He moves back, and the sheet falls away to reveal his interested cock.
“Come up here,” he instructs gruffly.
I wrap my arms around his neck and straddle his thighs, wedging his shaft between us. He strokes his hands up my back and down to my ass.
“Are you sore?”
I nod slightly with a smile. “A little.”
His fingers flirt with the crack of my ass, and finally, a small smile flirts with the corner of his mouth. “Was it worth it?”
Running my hands through his hair, I wriggle closer to him as he clenches his jaw.
“Yes, it was worth it.”
He leans forward, and I’m captivated as his avaricious mouth sucks my nipple between his moist lips. Arching toward him, I marvel at the gentleness that is pouring from him as his hands caress my back, pulling me closer. Something’s different. He seems calm, like he’s almost at peace for the first time. He seems content to be sitting here with me on his lap as he torments my aching hard tip.
I take joy in this moment of solace he’s finding with me in his arms. I feel like I’m finally touching the man I ache to own.
“Phillipe, will you tell me where we are going?” I asked.
He pulled the car to a stop, and I waited patiently as he came around to open my door.
“Come on,” he told me. He was almost as enthusiastic as a child.
My head was spinning with ideas as to where we were. This night was so crazy and so full of different emotions. He took my hand and guided me out of the car. I followed as we moved across the pavement, wanting to know what had him so excited when I heard an electric ding-dong, signaling that we had arrived.
“Phillipe?” I asked again in a hushed whisper, pulling on his hand. “Where are we?”
That was when I heard the insistent buzzing in the background. The noise was foreign. It was nothing I had ever heard before.
“Ahh, Phillipe,” a deep voice greeted us.
“Marcus, hi.”
“Is this she?” The smooth French accent floated across the air.
“Yes, this is Chantel.”
I remained still, knowing I was being inspected, and I hated it.
“Phillipe?” I questioned again.
I felt him turn toward me, and he took both my hands in his.
“I’m sorry. This is Marcus. I met him at the gallery a couple of days ago. He is a tattoo artist.”
Pulling my hands back, I raised an eyebrow. Phillipe saw the questions all over my face because he chuckled low and deep. He moved to me and wrapped his arms around my waist.
His breath brushing by my ear, he told me, “Trust me. He is going to tattoo me, not you.”
I thought about that for a moment, and before I knew what I was saying, I told him softly, “I want one.”
Phillipe laughed. He thought I was joking, but I wasn’t.
“I’m not kidding. I want one.”
“I didn’t bring you here to mark you. I want your mark on me.”
Rising up on my tiptoes, I kissed his mouth. “You’re already on my heart, and you’re already in my soul. Now, I want you on my body.”
His lips curved against mine. “Do you even know what you want?”
Surprisingly, I did. It was amazingly obvious.
So, I told him simply, “F-holes.”
Phillipe looks up at Gemma as she straddles his thighs, running her fingers through his hair. Her eyes are focused on him as she moves slowly. Rocking her hips gently against him, she presses her belly and mound against his impatient cock.
She is simply breathtaking. He hasn’t let himself see it before. He doesn’t want to admit it, but as she sits there open to him, vulnerable in her emotions, he sees her for the first time. Bringing his hands up from her waist, he traces her ribs to cup the sides of her breasts. She arches into his palms and pushes her hips forward.
Her eyes never leave his as he plays with her plump, aching flesh. When her mouth parts, he expects a sigh, but as he is coming to find with Gemma, nothing is ever what he expects.
“What about you?” she questions quietly.
Closing his eyes, he lowers his right hand down between her thighs and touches her wet pussy. He feels her thighs tighten around his as she rises up, allowing his fingers between her moist folds. She grips his hair as she moves gently against both of his hands.