The Artist's Touch (The Gentlemen's Guild Book 1)

by Dr. Rebecca Sharp

  Maybe that’s why he was drawn to her, Evocative Ellie.

  “Evocative Ellie,” he said softly to himself, chuckling at the apt nickname.

  “What did you say?” she asked, her mouth semi-full of the Spanish-style chorizo and herbed goat cheese.

  “Nothing,” he replied with a smile. “So, did you hear from your dad today? From his business contact?”

  Ellie shook her head, this time self-consciously keeping her mouth shut until she finished chewing. “No, nothing yet. I’m sure I’ll hear back this week though and then we’ll see.”

  “Having second thoughts?” he asked, unable to help the excited pounding of his heart, wondering if she was reconsidering because she didn’t want to leave him.

  Not that he would ever let that happen now, and soon she would know it.

  “Mmm,” she moaned, finishing the last sip of her wine in lieu of answering.

  “Any chance that instead of the world, there’s something here more worth exploring?” His eyes locked in on hers, their bright green like a homing beacon always bringing him back to her.

  She gave him a half-smile, one that wanted to, but didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Well, there are definitely some things here that I can’t seem to get away from, that is for sure.” Her tease breaking up the seriousness in his question; her playful smile hiding the double meaning in her words.

  “Touché.” Mock offense entering his tone as he made his way around the island to stand in front of her. He leaned his face down next to hers to whisper, “So, you’re trying to get away from me, are you?”

  He felt her palm rest lightly on his chest, directly over his beating heart, as she replied, “Who said I was trying to?”

  Tristan moved slightly so that he could again look her in the eyes, seeing in them the depth of emotion that he knew was reflected in his own. His lips moved dangerously close to hers, her eyes closing as she asked breathlessly, “So, where is my surprise?”

  “Mmm, my greedy little siren, I’ll show you your surprise,” he said as he pulled back, a smile spreading over his face. The flushed look on her face, heated from alcohol and attraction, her heavy lids only partially covering her eyes, and her lips ever so slightly parted, just begging to be kissed – it was too much.

  His hand reached around to grab the firm flesh of her ass, yanking her flush against him as his lips claimed hers. Her mouth opened beneath his, immediately welcoming his searching tongue as he squeezed the softness beneath his palm, pulling her hard against the painful ridge in his pants. She moaned in response, her hips flexing into his erection, igniting the fire in his veins. Her eagerness to lose herself in his kiss only fueled his raging desire, but not before one thought crossed his mind.

  Whatever, or whomever, she was trying to get away from, was pushing her directly into his arms.

  One thought tempered his lust out of concern for her. Gently breaking the kiss, he waited for her eyes to open before asking, “Is everything ok, Ellie?”

  A startled expression came over her face for a moment, before it was replaced with a comforting smile, “Of course.”

  Tristan’s eyes narrowed; he wasn’t quite sure that he believed that, but he wouldn’t push her, he would be whatever she needed.

  “Well, in that case, I guess I can show you your surprise now.”

  “You mean this isn’t it?” she taunted, biting the lower fullness of her delicious lips as she rolled her hips against his hard cock.

  His eyes darkened, his hand grasped her palm and brought it to the front of his pants, hissing as he placed it firmly over his hot and incredibly hard erection that was begging for her naked touch. “This, around you, is never a surprise; you should know that by now.” He watched her eyes widen slightly just before her fingers firmed around him. Her subtle movement surprising him, Tristan couldn’t help the groan that escaped his mouth before he, maybe a little too forcefully, yanked her delicious torture device from him. “Keep that up and you’ll be in for a whole different night of surprises.”

  “I’m ok with that,” was her eager response.

  “I knew you would be, but I want to show you this,” he said with a smile, his eagerness to show her the portrait he’d done of her was bone-deep. Turning, he refilled her wine glass before leading the way into the living room, coming to stand behind his easel that the drop-cloth had been draped over.

  Pulling the fabric off of his masterpiece, he turned the easel around, this way he’d be able to see her reaction when she saw her own face.

  “Oh, my God, Tristan…” she choked out, her hand coming up to cover her gasp, eyes wide with surprise and awe.

  Tristan watched as she approached the canvas, her expression not dissimilar to the one he’d chosen to portray. It was the subtle synthesis of shock, happiness, and gratefulness – the look that said what he had just shown her would forever change her world, that would never get old.

  “What do you think?” he asked, huskily, enjoying her speechless surprise.

  “It’s…incredible,” she whispered, her other hand raising as if she wanted to reach out and touch the drawing, make sure that it was real.

  “No,” he said harshly, “you, Ellie, you are incredible.” His eyes burned with the intense sincerity of his words, watching as she swallowed hard in acknowledgment, but it wasn’t enough. “Say it. I want to hear you say it.”

  Her brows furrowed for a moment, as if she’d forgotten what he’d just said, before recognition broke over her face. He watched her intently, capturing her gaze and refusing to set it free until she complied. “I…” she began, hesitantly, taking a deep breath before trying again. “I am incredible.”

  A huge smile broke over his face, rewarding her for her breaking through her self-consciousness. “That’s my girl.”

  “How did you…” She broke off again, trying to speak coherently from thoughts that were jumbled. “I can’t believe you made this. I can’t believe this is me, it’s so beautiful. You did such an incredible job, Tristan. You truly have a gift for conveying exactly what you see.”

  He let out a soft laugh at her determined naiveté. “Ellie,” he began as he set the canvas back down on the easel, rounding the stand to stand in front of her, his hands coming up to grasp her shoulders. “Art isn’t about what you see, it’s about what you make others see,” he explained. His eyes bored into her, silently conveying the undeniable truth to his words. His hands slid gently up to cup her face, tilting her face up to his. “This was never about what I saw in you, it was about making you see who you really are.”

  Tristan watched the emerald spheres of her eyes enlarge, their color deepening as his words began to sink in. He waited patiently as she fought the insight that he’d just given her, the understand that she knew to be true. When the green in her eyes glistened like dew on a new spring leaf, Tristan knew that she’d finally let go; she’d finally let go of all of the negativity and self-doubt that she’d built up around her keeping herself down so that no one could take her there. Her dewy tears precipitated down her cheeks – the last vestiges of a self-deprecating armor evaporating into nothingness.

  Her eyes washed clean, her gaze met his glowing with unabashed love. “Tristan, I love you,” she murmured, rising up on her toes to touch her lips to his.

  Powerful and possessive, his feelings for her exploded into every cell. He wanted to stop and tell her that he felt the same, to talk to her about whatever had happened in her past that had broken her. He had wanted to share this with her, to bare his soul to her through his art with the hopes that she would do the same. Now, though, those thoughts were burned from his mind – he just wanted her. Her words had doused him and her kiss had set him ablaze.

  He’d captured her heart. Now, he would take her body and show her just how exquisite only he could make her feel.

  Chapter 27

  Even though her kiss had started out soft, a gentle seal of her love, as soon as Ellie’s lips touched his, the world fell away, their mouths pi
cking up where they’d left off earlier – devouring each other. His hands angled her head to give his tongue better access as her arms came around his waist, pulling herself tight against him. Their kiss went on, for how long Tristan wasn’t sure. He finally pulled back to let them both breathe, their breaths coming in sharps gasps.

  “Fuck, I want you so bad,” he huffed.

  “So, take me, Tristan,” she whispered back urgently. “I want you to take me.”

  He groaned, his chest vibrating with the torture it was to pull himself away from her, barely about to bite out the words, “Not yet, siren. It’s your turn to show me something.”

  “Anything,” was her immediately response, indomitable emerald eyes meeting his.

  A devilish smile spread over his face as his erection swelled even more painfully at the thought of what was to come.

  Disentangling himself from her, he stepped back instructing her to, “Take off your clothes.” Her eyes flared at the flagrant reminder of one of the first times that they had met, one of the first times their conversations had drifted into the sexual undertow of the waves of desire between them.

  She didn’t back down, pure confidence oozing from every pore of her. With a purposefully enticing slowness, she kicked off her heels, shimmying out of her jeans to reveal that her halter was actually a bodysuit. Pulling her mane of fire onto one shoulder, she undid the hook around the back of her neck, slowing bringing the halter straps down in front of her. Changing her grip, she pulled the fabric slowly over her breasts, revealing their hardened, rosy peaks and the fact that she hadn’t been wearing a bra. The generous globes freed from their confines, now pointed at him, begging for attention.

  Fuck.

  This was so much harder than he thought it would be. Tristan labored his breathing on purpose, afraid any sudden movement would break the thin trance of restraint that had come over him watching her strip before him. He continued to deprive himself of oxygen as he watched her free her stomach from the tight fabric, his jaw clenching as it moved farther and farther down her body.

  “Fuck, Ellie,” he swore, turning around momentarily and moving back partially behind his easel.

  She wasn’t wearing underwear.

  The realization had forced him to move, to put some sort of object between them. His lust purified the gold in his eyes turning it molten with immeasurable need.

  “Sit on the couch,” he barely bit out, watching every muscle of her flex as she moved to comply with his demand. When she sat, he moved to do the same, almost reaching his stool when he stood back up. “Christ,” he swore, roughly undoing the front of his pants to make enough room for his engorged erection to rest in relative comfort when he tried to sit down again.

  “Now what?” she asked huskily, a satisfied smile spreading over her face when she saw just how aroused she’d made him.

  He glared at her, determined to make her just as tortured as he was. “Spread your legs.” That surprised her, her eyes widening at his command, but she didn’t question, not yet. When he reached down to grab a pencil and flipped to a blank sheet on his easel, that’s when she spoke.

  “What are you…” She trailed off, the rest of her question implied. He didn’t answer her and she didn’t make any move to close the perfect view that she’d given him of the pink, dewy petals resting between her thighs. His hand began to move frantically over the paper, capturing every evocative line.

  He waited a few seconds, just until it looked like she was going to question him again, before he spoke. “Touch yourself. Like you did for me the other night on the phone. Close your eyes and touch yourself.”

  That had shocked her. Her hand moved to her stomach before she finally said, “I want you to touch me.” Tristan bit his tongue so hard he tasted blood.

  He wanted to touch her, God, how he wanted to, but he needed to see her pleasure herself.

  Every night that he’d coached her masturbation, he’d burned with the desire to watch her pleasure herself, and tonight he was determined to have that satisfaction.

  “Touch yourself, Ellie,” he commanded again, his voice hard and unrelenting. “I need to see this; I’ve dreamt of it…for so many nights now.” His confession was a little softer, a little more stricken with need, and she saw it written across his face. She captured his gaze as her hand slid slowly down off of her stomach and her fingers delved willingly into the folds below.

  Tristan was physically vibrating with his need for her as he watched Ellie pleasure herself. At first, her fingers moved slowly, hesitantly over her slick folds, as he watched with eager anticipation. When she saw the effect it was having on him though, her entire demeanor changed. A sultry smile stole over her face, her gaze becoming hooded as she deliberately made a show of pleasuring herself.

  “Are you enjoying this, siren?” Tristan tried to ask with a laugh, but it came out strangled, partially suffocated by his exponentially increasing desire for her.

  Ellie sighed, “I am.” Her tone had a hint of playfulness, but one that was quickly being overpowered by the pleasure that she was giving herself.

  “God, me too,” he agreed, inhaling deeply as he tried to focus on drawing the evocative scene before him, watching as her attempt to torture himself began to backfire enjoyably. Her eyelids drifting further shut as her finger began to move with purpose and urgency, sliding through her folds and swirling over the sensitive jewel hidden beneath them.

  Every time his eyes had to move back to the canvas in front of him was like a knife stabbing into him, the pain of removing his gaze from such a beautiful sight was piercing, but his yearning to capture it was too much.

  “Tell me how you feel,” he hoarsely requested, watching her fingers swirl over her clit.

  Ellie moaned, her eyelids dropping almost closed before she answered, “On fire.”

  Tristan’s fist clenched at his side, fighting the urge to go to her. “Put a finger inside of yourself,” he continued with his demands, watching as she now eagerly complied, her need for release overcoming any last vestiges of self-conscious embarrassment.

  He choked on his breath as he watched her forefinger slip easily inside of her passage. “All the way,” he encouraged, as it disappeared completely for a second. “Christ, you are so fucking evocative.” Her finger slid back out to continue massaging her clit. “Tell me how you feel. Tell me how it feels inside of you, my cock wants to know.”

  Her mouth fell open slightly, sucking in air to gasp out a few short words. “Wet. Tight. Hot.” And then she lost all capability of coherent thought.

  Her head tipped back to rest along the edge of the back of the settee, moaning against the onslaught of her own fingers. Her face angled so that if her eyes were open, she’d be looking up and out of the window wall of his apartment. Tristan drew frantically, seeing as her body was nearing closer to orgasm; her fingers circled faster, her toes were flexed and arched back – she was so close.

  “That’s it, siren, feel yourself and let go. I want to see you come all over my couch,” he bit out, not even sure that she could hear or understand him anymore as her head began to move side to side.

  Tristan drew her mouth as she bit down on her lip to try to stop the moan that escaped her anyway. His head was pounding from how hard he was clenching his jaw trying to restrain himself. As much as he wanted her, he wanted her to make herself feel beautiful even more; he wanted to capture the proof of that – that she didn’t need anyone to make her feel gorgeous or wanted or desired, she was all of those things on her own.

  Ellie’s mouth dropped open. “Tristan.” Her whisper floated across the room to him on the tide of her impending release. Her hips arched off of the couch, flexing underneath her fingertips as she led herself up and over the peak of her orgasm. It wasn’t rushed or frantic or crazed with desire – no, that would come later. Her first release of the night brought a soft hum of electricity over all of her senses, awakening them for the pleasure that was to come.

  Tristan groaned,
feeling himself on the brink of release as he watched her body explode. He captured the last few lines before he couldn’t focus anymore, the sight of her naked, flushed body, undulating as she rode out the waves of her orgasm became too much for him as he completely snapped his pencil in two from the force of his fist.

  Dropping the broken stubs, he stood and walked towards the only thing in his tunnel vision. Ellie. She was still shaking against the couch, her breath coming in gasps as her now uncoordinated fingers tried to bring her back down gently. Tristan came to his knees before her, worshipping the sight before him.

  Gently grabbing her wrist, he pulled her hand off of her slick center. Her head partially raised, her eyes attempting to open to see what was happened; she hadn’t even realized that he’d left his stool. Bringing her fingers up to his mouth, he watched as her skin glistened with her juices under the dim lighting of the room. He grinned up at her, licking his lips before he put her forefinger completely into his mouth, cleaning every last drop of her orgasm off of her skin – a delicious starter to the evening.

  She moaned, her eyes shutting again, as she shivered at his gentle touch, her body exquisitely sensitive – something that Tristan had every intention of taking advantage of. Pulling the last of her fingers from his mouth, he kissed the tip of it, before he gently intertwined his fingers with hers. He caught the drowsy smile provoked by his gentle caress before his eyes drifted down to his main course.

  Her pink folds were swollen, glistening, and crying out for his attention. He’d never get tired of tasting her, he thought as his mouth descended on the treasure in front of him. Her hips shot up against his, a gasp accompanying her surprise as he set his tongue on her already sensitive flesh. It was her hand that first disengaged from their embrace to comb into his hair and pull him firmly against her. She’d just barely made it back down and now, he’d begun to build up her pleasure again, relentlessly teasing the swollen bud with his tongue, enjoying the rush of liquid flowing into his mouth at he brought her close to the edge.