“Do you see what was missing now?”
She nodded, unable to put words to what it was but knowing she could capture it with paints and canvas. The pearl and Aaron’s caresses had brought with them a huge sense of power and sensuality. The look on her face wasn’t in any of the pictures, nor was the telltale swell of her body or the lush glow of her cunt.
He had stopped stroking her while she examined her reflection. Now he started again, one set of fingers teasing the length of her clit while the other slid behind her, finding the wet center of her pussy and slowly invading her.
“Have you ever watched yourself climax?”
She turned her head, hiding her expression.
“No, then?”
“No,” she agreed.
“A lover’s climax, perhaps?”
“No.”
He nudged her with his chin until her gaze returned to the mirror. “When I look at the picture, I want to see you coming, Hallie.”
She shook her head. She’d never be able to walk into the same room with the painting if she did that. And when he grew tired of it and sold it or, heaven forbid, gave it away to a gallery?
“You can’t live afraid of the future.” He took the flesh of her shoulder between his teeth, his lips and tongue sucking at her while his fingers slid in and over her. “Just live for the next few minutes, for the night…”
Hallie moved against him, the pearl bouncing between her breasts as she found the rhythm that matched his. Her cream coated his hand and she squeezed her thighs against him as her orgasm started to claim control of her body.
“Don’t stop looking, Hallie.”
She sucked her bottom lip in, trying to concentrate on what she was seeing as slow waves of climax rolled through her. He stroked her harder, faster, his fingers penetrating more deeply. Her climax intensified, doubled in on itself. She leaned forward, planting her hands against the mirror as she pushed her ass toward Aaron.
She could no longer see what he was doing, but she could feel it. His fingers abandoned her clit. He placed his thumb against the tight hole of her ass. She clenched her pussy, her knees threatening to give as she felt the curve of his fingers inside her. He had cupped his hand, four fingers worth, inside her and was stroking her with a little come-hither motion.
Tears rolled down her cheeks. She contracted around him, felt his thumb take possession of her ass. Her face and breasts pressed hard against the front mirror for support, she watched herself in the side mirror. What she had viewed as too much ass and hip and thigh a month ago was a rolling wave of pleasure as she released an unstoppable jet of cum.
“Moro mou, I want my cock in you so bad.”
“Yes.” She wanted to see him undressed, to gaze on and fondle the hard body and proud cock he’d only pressed against her so far. “Yes, Aaron.”
“No, kardhoola mou.” He withdrew gently, leaving a trail of kisses up her spine. “Not yet.”
Chapter Four
Sipping hot tea spiked with brandy and wrapped in a thick terry robe, Hallie sat on a couch in her new studio. The room was stocked with everything she needed -- canvas, paints, her favorite brushes. Late afternoon light filled the room, dappled from the leaded panes in the floor-to-ceiling windows.
She wondered how many artists Aaron had housed in his mansion -- and how many of them he had slept with.
Finished with her tea, she got up and paced the room. She bent over the table next to the easel and checked to make sure she had all the colors she could possibly need. As she bent, the black pearl slid from the folds of her robe and swung on its chain like a pendulum.
Taking the necklace off, she hung the chain from one finger and waited for the pearl to stop its swinging. Concentrating, she tried a test question.
“Is Aaron Ioannides hot?”
It took only a few seconds before the pearl was swinging in a circle. She brought the pearl to a stop and asked, “Am I the first?”
The pearl began to swing back and forth, offering her a big “hell, no.” Hallie let out a puff of air and looked around the room again before focusing on the pendant and chain. When it stopped, she formed her next question.
“Am I the last?”
The pearl started to move in erratic lines until its path smoothed into a circle. Smiling, she slid the chain back over her head and pressed the cold metal against her chest.
Taking a fresh sketchpad with sheets twice the size she had used for the preliminary drawings, she sat down on the couch. She thought of the pearl between her breasts -- black organic. Black dirt, black mountains, a woman -- her -- in the throes of ecstasy. Creation released in a torrent at the exact moment of climax.
This time, when she took the piece of charcoal in hand, the lines didn’t fight her like they had all month. She knew what he wanted, knew what would please them both.
She worked until two in the morning, stopping only once when she answered a knock at her door to find a tray full of food waiting and an empty hall. Once the sketch was done, she managed to place it on the easel and stumble back to the couch.
When she woke, Aaron was leaning over the back of the couch, a strand of her hair between his fingertips as he stared at the sketch. A blue robe that matched his eyes hung open, giving her a glimpse of his chest. Hairless, sculpted. She wanted to reach up and run her fingers across it but touched his wrist instead.
“Can I pull out the paints now?”
He looked down, his eyes slow to focus. “Not yet.”
Not yet?
She looked back to the easel, searching for the flaw he had seen. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. It’s perfect.” Releasing the strand of her hair, Aaron reached for the belt to the robe she had fallen asleep in. It was already loose and the knot gave way with a short tug. He pushed the sides apart, exposing her body. “But aren’t you stiff from working all night?”
His smile was playful and sensuous, but at the same time something dark and dirty danced in his gaze. He touched the pearl for an instant and then trailed his fingertips down her stomach.
She could feel surprise widen her features. Was he proposing sex without a lesson? “You’re --”
“Serious? Insatiable?” His fingers traced the line where her pressed thighs met. “‘Yes’ on the first… the second? Well, I did manage to let you work last night.”
He slid over the back of the couch, across her body and onto the floor. Looking down, she saw that he had on silk boxers matching the blue of his robe. The lightest dusting of hair covered his powerful thighs. He rested an arm across her stomach, his hand teasing one nipple until it was swollen and the flesh colored a darkening plum.
“But just so you don’t think I’m uncivilized…” He nodded at the end table next to the couch. On it was a tray loaded with fruit and a carafe of coffee. “And I ran a hot bath for you in the next room.”
She turned to see steam floating out from the half-open door. “How did you manage that without my hearing you?”
“I could have brought a marching band through here; I don’t think you would have so much as turned over.” He stood and picked up the carafe. “Now, which do you want first? Breakfast? Bath? All three?”
She sat up and pulled the robe around her. “All three?”
He picked the tray up, smiling. “Excellent choice.”
“That was a question, not a choice.” It didn’t matter. She was already following him into the bathroom.
“That’s what you say.” He put the tray down and took hold of his robe’s edges. “Sounded like a choice to me.”
She grabbed a plump strawberry from the tray and took a few steps back until she could see him from head to toe. “Okay.”
He gestured at her robe. “Aren’t you…”
She smiled and took a bite of the strawberry before answering. “After I watch you undress.” Her tongue darted out to snatch a fat drop of juice from her top lip. “For purely artistic reasons.”
She would have thought it imposs
ible, shameless as he seemed, but Aaron’s cheeks colored. She felt a matching rush of heat fan across her own face as his robe slipped from his broad shoulders. He caught it mid-fall and placed it on a hook next to the tub. Hands at the waistband of his boxers, he sucked his bottom lip in. His whole face colored pink as he started to slide the boxers down.
And then she wasn’t looking at his face, however beautiful it was. She was looking at the muscled stomach as he inched the boxers lower. A curl of black hair started at his navel and thickened to a silky nest framing his erect cock. Veins, gloriously thick, stood out along the shaft. The same network of veins patterned his balls.
He took a step back, raised one perfect leg, and then he stepped into the oversized tub that centered the room. He pulled the second leg in, slowly descended to his knees and then all but his upper body was submerged. “Your turn.”
“Right.” Making him go first instead of the two of them together had been a slight miscalculation, but watching him disrobe had been worth every second.
Forcing herself to walk slowly, she hung her robe next to his and moved to the tub. He held his hand up, steadying her as she stepped into the water. With her back to him, she sat down. His fingertips lightly on her shoulders, he guided her until she rested against his chest.
Reaching out to the tray, he lifted the carafe, poured a cup of coffee and handed it to her. Strong. No sugar, no cream.
She took a sip, her body feeling like melted chocolate by the time the hot liquid hit her stomach. “Were you guessing?”
“It’s how you took it at your last gallery showing.”
“You’re a little scary.”
He had taken a sponge and was soaping her leg in slow circles from her knee down to where her thigh left the water. He stopped and placed his lips against her ear. “Just a little?”
“There’s a closet full of clothes my size…”
“I read the tag the first time you were here.”
“All the right supplies…”
“Your interview -- you plugged your art supplier.” He switched the sponge to his other hand and followed the same slow route. “Time was, finding out what a woman wanted, what pleased her -- it was an integral part of courtship.”
Courtship?
“They call it stalking now.” She took another swallow of coffee and then placed the cup back on the tray as Aaron let the sponge fall into the water between her open thighs. “And the commission? Was that an integral part of your plan?”
He was slow to answer, his words only confusing her when he did.
“It is my gift to the millennia, Hallie.” Shifting against her back, he slid an arm across her stomach and cupped one breast. “There’s nothing artificial in my admiration of your talent, your potential. It’s what I first noticed about you.” He thumbed her nipple, his touch warm and soapy. “The rest came later.”
She offered a slight nod and then closed her eyes. She turned her head, her face against his neck as his hands started their lazy exploration of her body. When he’d made his way down to her thighs, he curled a hand beneath each leg and lifted.
She felt his cock, still hard, bob forward, the thick head poised to enter her pussy.
He pressed his lips against her forehead. “Are you ready for me?”
“Always.”
She curled an arm up, wrapped it around his neck. Feeling him breach the ring of muscle as he eased her down onto his cock, she gasped.
She moaned as more of him pushed into her. “There should be a warning on this tub.”
“Hmmm?” Seating Hallie firmly on his cock, he had released her thighs and was tracing the outline of her cunt.
“That objects in the water are bigger than they appear.” Sighing, she squeezed her perineum, her body contracting around the thick shaft and head.
They moaned in unison, his fingers alternating between teasing the length of her clit and pulling roughly at her lower lips.
She wanted his mouth -- a kiss, their first. Knotting her fingers in his hair, she tried to pull him to her. He shook free and placed his lips to her ear, his whispered words raw and foreign.
Was he telling her she was his?
“Yes,” she whispered back.
Her body, her cunt, her mouth. All of it. His. Is that what he was saying?
“All of me,” she agreed, her hips grinding against him as her mouth still quested for that first kiss. She let her voice match his in its energy, in the raw emotion squeezed from her throat as her pussy locked around him in climax. “Take me, all of me.”
He’d stopped talking; the only sound coming from his throat was a growly purr. Running his hand along her calf, he lifted her leg until her heel rested on the edge of the tub. He placed her other heel on the opposite side. Her pussy was exposed, her ass and thighs taut. The position left her cunt wrapped around his cock like a velvet-covered iron glove. She couldn’t move, couldn’t grind, could only grip him, the muscles of her sex contracting in a mad turmoil.
And then he started rubbing her. First her thighs, then the thick, pouting lips. Her clit. Oh, God, her clit.
“Yes.” Little breaths. All she could manage.
Flutter and kick. Her cunt went crazy.
“Oh, God, oh, God, oh, God.”
He nibbled at her ear, his fingers stroking her slow, then fast, then slow again as his cock remained locked in place. She threw her arms up, locked them around her head, her fingers knotting and pulling at her hair as he continued to rub. Circles. Lines. Everything tight and thick.
No air in the room. No air.
The pulse and jerk of cum through his cock as he climaxed.
“Let yourself go, Hallie.”
She couldn’t. Couldn’t breathe. No air. Just him, just his cock and his fingers, his teeth against her throat. He rolled the hood of her clit between his thumb and index finger -- teasing her, driving her over the edge.
And into darkness.
Chapter Five
Wet and sore in all the right places, Hallie opened her eyes. She was back on the couch in her studio, a heavy blanket covering her from her toes up to her shoulders. She lifted her head long enough to see that the tray was back in the room with her, the carafe replaced and more fresh fruit on ice in the bowl.
No Aaron.
Pouting, she rolled onto her side and saw the first rose petal on the floor. Half a foot away was its perfect twin. And then another, all leading a path to the studio door.
She sat up and looked around for her robe. He had folded and placed it on the arm of the couch and topped it with a note card.
When you’re ready.
Smiling, Hallie poured a cup of coffee. She drank it slowly, in between bites of chilled mango and pineapple. From the couch, she eyed the sketch she’d left on the easel the night before.
If she were in her real studio, she’d be working instead of contemplating another round of pleasure at the skilled hands of Aaron Ioannides. Still, as her mama used to say, “Sister earned herself a day off.”
Not that her mama would approve of what she was doing on her day off.
Putting her cup down, she walked naked to the wardrobe that had been brought into the studio. Aaron had filled it with clothes in her size, but in a more daring style than she was used to. There were lightweight stretchy sweaters to cling to her breasts, sexy wool skirts that wrapped around her ample thighs and hips. Leather boots stood tall next to a pair of tortoise-shell t-strap sandals with a four-inch heel.
Picking a dark crimson sweater and skirt set and matching silk underwear and bra, she headed into the bathroom for a quick shower and a little makeup. Dressed and wearing the tortoise-shell sandals, she followed the rose petals.
The trail led to the Carracci painting that guarded the entrance to Aaron’s room. She took a tentative breath. “Open.”
The door obeyed, prompting a grin to break across her face at the thought he had programmed the door to recognize her voice. She stepped into the room, the only illumination coming
from a fire burning low and a row of candles along the mantle.
She looked at the bed -- empty. The door to the dressing room was closed. She opened it. No Aaron.
Damn. She’d waited too long.
Turning, she scanned the dresser and nightstands looking for something to write a note on. Nothing. Pouting, she completed her turn to find Aaron leaning against the wall, the flicker of candlelight reflected in his gaze.
“Omorfi.” He moved into the room, slow, almost threatening.
“Omorfi? Are you going to translate or do I need to buy a dictionary?” She walked backwards until her knees hit the bed’s massive frame.
He grinned, feral and seemingly sharp-toothed, as he gripped her shoulders. He slid his leg between hers, pushing her skirt high up on her thighs. “It means, moro mou, I want to eat you.”
Closing her eyes, Hallie let him ease her onto the bed. The man was off the hook. He only had to look at her and she was wet. She had to get a grip. She put her arms up, slowing him as he came over the foot rail.
She placed her palms against his chest and lifted her head toward him. “Kiss me.” He dropped his head toward her neck. She caught his chin, guided his face upwards. “On the lips.”
He lifted a brow, nostrils flaring and his tongue darting out to rest against his top lip. She brought her other hand up, knotting her fingers in his dark curls. She wanted to give him a good shake but then he smiled.
Damn, that grin was going to be the death of her. “You know what I’m talking about.”
They’d been intimate twice -- amazingly so. But he’d yet to kiss her on the mouth.
“Kardhoola mou…” Hesitating, he chewed at his bottom lip. “It’s a family thing.”
Now it was her turn to lift a brow. “You mean a Heckle and Jeckle thing?”
Aaron sighed, the sound chipping away at her resolve. He bent toward her throat again and this time she let him. “In my family, you only kiss your wife on the mouth.”
Feeling a small flare of temper, she turned her head to the side and stared at him. “That is fucked up!”
His Black Pearl Page 3