Another Brush Stroke (The Carnal Exhibitions Book 1)

by Barefoot, LW

  The heels I have on help with our height difference. Standing like this, looking at us, I’m able to fully appreciate how much bigger he is. The physical difference between us is striking. He’s tall and dark. I’m short and fair skinned. Green eyes to my hazel. Exact opposites.

  He sweeps my long hair to the opposite shoulder, exposing his teeth marks in my skin and makes me acknowledge them. I lift my fingers up to caress them. I wouldn’t mind his marks all over me as opposed to the ones I’m stuck with… ‘You’re a weak, unworthy little slut’… ‘You should be grateful with the attention I’ve devoted to you and only you.’

  I’m lost in thought before I can stop Evan. He has me pinned and I can’t move. He picks up the back hem of my dress in both hands and pulls, sending buttons flying. Loud bouncing pieces of plastic clatter across the marble floor. The material screeches in destruction in the large foyer. Strong hands pull and destroy my sanity with the rendering of fabric. Stretching his large grasp to the front of the garment, ripping it in kind to the back. Leaving me naked and exposed.

  I cry out and try to cover the one thing I don’t want him to see. I’m frantic as I try to use my hands to hide. Pulling the remains of the dress to cover myself up, but they slip out of my grasp along with my lucidness.

  His eyes never leave mine in the mirror. I force myself to watch his reaction to my hideous secrets. The stab wounds are too far apart for my hand to cover. My right hand spans the right side of my pelvis. Evan waits until I calm down some before moving his hands to the front of my chest.

  His fingertips stroke my skin, teasing and caressing my tits before moving to unfasten the clasp at the front of my bra. He slowly pulls the lace off my shoulders and uses the fabric to move my hands away from my body. I groan in frustration, but he doesn’t stop no matter my protests, because I don’t say the word stop, the only one that holds power. It tastes vile on my tongue and I swallow it. I use all of my strength to keep my arms in front of me, fighting against his wishes.

  I panic, “No, Evan.” I shake my head back and forth in my frantic plea. “You don’t know what you’re doing to me.”

  “Say stop and I’ll leave,” he says, his voice drips with disappointment.

  “Wait, I…” I attempt to explain myself, while holding what’s left of my shredded dress.

  “What exactly do you want?” he asks.

  “I want you, only…”

  “You don’t want me to see you. You want to hide but I won’t allow it. You don’t expect me to still want you. But Harper, I’ve never wanted anything more. Do you want me to continue?” he asks.

  It’s more than clear this is going his way or no way at all.

  “Yes,” I confess.

  “What do you say if you want or need me to quit?”

  “Stop.”

  “Are you answering me or are you using that word?”

  “Answering you.”

  “Good girl.”

  Fuck me, I crave even his approval. Evan secures my arms behind my back with the bra. He somehow wraps the lace around my upper arms and renders them useless. I test the resistance and there’s no way to get out of it.

  The moment he forced my hands away, my eyes fall, and the tears slip out. I focus on the material of my dress as it flutters to the floor. It feels like this has taken hours, but in reality, only minutes have passed. Silent streams fall down my cheeks. My humiliation is enough to have me succumb to the grief and self-doubt. I stand and wait. I can’t move to cover myself. I refuse to look at him, as he slowly leans his now naked body against mine. His heat is comforting. Standing naked in my heels arms stretched behind my back, raising my tits up and out, I feel utterly ridiculous.

  “Harper, you are so fucking gorgeous,” he says while kissing over the previous bite on my shoulder. I still can’t watch him. He strokes the outside of my thighs. Soft and slow. Trying to comfort me.

  “Look at me,” his voice is deeper than in his last statement.

  His callused fingers run over my skin, then dig deeper with more force. Time stretches out, ticking away. I refuse his demand. Being forced to submit to him against my wish to stay covered up. His hand comes up between my legs and strokes to find me aroused, confirming why I’m incapable of telling him to stop.

  His hand pulls away and comes down with a loud whack on my ass and I cry out. The pain grounds me. I’m shocked he just spanked me and I shudder.

  “Harper, look at me,” he repeats himself.

  He waits and then spanks me again, but not in the same place. He wipes away my tears so tenderly it makes me cry more. I don’t even know why I’m still defying him. The reaction to his hard palm spreads warmth across my skin and sinks in deeper.

  “Harper, look at me.”

  Evan repeats this over and over. His palm lands on my flesh, pushing me against the console table. The sound of the contact alone is deafening.

  “Harper, look at me.”

  My body throbs and pulses in need. And it’s not the need for him to stop, but to continue. Evan demands his wish, my refusal, then my punishment. It does awful things to my body. He spreads out the pain, not hitting the same place twice in a row. His hands are big and I’m running out of sanity and space for him to punish. Each lick of pain brings blooming pleasure as the strikes sink in.

  “Harper, fucking look at me.”

  He rages louder than before, landing a strike directly over my cunt. I convulse into a violent orgasm and my eyes shoot to his in shock. He has a knowing, pleased look on his face, his eyes dark with desire. I moan as I pulse in waves of release. He lowers to the floor and pulls my legs farther apart from behind me. I feel his hot tongue sweep across my pussy and I almost lose my balance. His hands hold me steady as he licks and sucks at my entrance. He pushes a finger into me. Working in time with his tongue, he milks my orgasm. Prolonging my ecstasy and stretching my tight heat.

  He crooks his fingers and hits another place that has me seeing stars. The thought of his cock hitting that same place, has me spiraling deeper.

  He stands and releases my arms from behind my back. Guiding both to spread out and rest my palms on the entry table. His fingers work the muscles in my shoulders and back, attempting to relax me. But I’m still seeing bursts of light in my eyes and fireworks singe through my nerves.

  Our gazes connect in the mirror as he licks his lips.

  “Harper, don’t you dare try to cover your sexy little body.”

  I test him and he spanks me harder than he had before. I make a strangled sound in my throat at the sudden flare of pain.

  “I mean it Harper, don’t move your arms.”

  I cave to his wish, I want what he gave me all over again. I’ll do whatever it takes to get those results. His palms grasp my breasts from behind me. Lifting them and testing their weight. Both are heavy with arousal and my nipples strain in his hands. He squeezes them and I feel his erection on my back.

  His hands trail down from my breasts, his fingers lovingly graze my scars. I feel like I’m going to pass out. I think I might love him for the honesty of his desire, for not flinching away from me in disgust.

  He makes me witness what he’s doing. I’m forced to be present and not pushed back to the memories of how I acquired them.

  His right palm presses on top of the ragged marks lower. Pushing me forward, he places his cock at my clenching pussy. His right hand spreads out. His palm covers the numbered scar completely, his fingertips circle my clit. I’m drenched and ready for him. The combination of my own release and his saliva help ease him into me slightly and I moan. He’s too big and it’s been far too long since I’ve been with someone like this.

  A flash of the previous time all those years ago hisses across my mind… ‘So sweet your blood runs, my precious piece of flesh’

  I won’t let it pull me under again. Or let him pull me under.

  Evan pauses and allows me to adjust. I grip the edge of the table and shove myself back on his cock. Needing the pain to keep me
here with him. I take him by surprise. He looks bewildered by my reaction. I pant as my tight sheath adjusts around him. I need to cleanse that insidious voice out of me. Leaning lower, pulling off Evan just enough. I slam back against him in an instant.

  “Fuck, Harper.”

  He yells, holding me still, allowing me to adjust more.

  “You’re so fucking tight,” he purrs with approval. Actually fucking purrs, and he’s not even filling me completely.

  I want Evan’s voice to continue as I struggle to stay here with him. As if two different parallels exist, one attempts to drag me back to the past and the other demands I stay here in the present. Each provide its own heavy dose of fear.

  We both calm down and observe each other. Both wide-eyed and panting. Evan pulls back from me a little as I moan. It feels too good. I finally stretch and shape around him.

  He uses his grip on my pelvis to pull me back onto him. He is masterful as he drives away all other thoughts and sensations. We move together, watching each other as he fucks me from behind. I feel him work more of his length into me. Muscles strain for control as I clench around his shaft, loving the way he feels inside me. Evan watches my breasts as he thrusts into me.

  “Harper, baby, spread your legs wider,” his voice so much lower and this time I do what I’m told.

  All my defiance vanishes. I need to witness his fragile control break with his release. He hits me harder and deeper. Another orgasm teeters on the brink, he senses it too. He uses the nails of his right hand to dig in to my skin. It pushes me over the edge. He claws me so hard I gasp for breath. So many feelings rush to the surface. I feel this orgasm so much more than the last two. He keeps pushing, fucking me so forcefully the table slams into the wall.

  “That’s it Harper. Take it.”

  He increases in speed and I can feel the moment he comes undone. His cock jerks and the veins running up the side of his neck pulse. His eyes glaze over with triumph and satisfaction. Kissing my shoulders as he slowly pulls out of me.

  He picks me up and carries me to the large bathroom where Ru’ snores content on the bath rug. Worst guard dog ever. He didn’t even wake up and we were loud, really loud.

  Evan sits me on the stone counter and turns to start the water in the bath tub. This is the first time I’m able to fully appreciate his naked body. His well-toned muscles stretch and pull as he adjusts the water temperature. He catches me watching him and strides back to me.

  “Lean back Harper, let me look at you.”

  I resist until his eyebrow twitches up, silently challenging me. I obey and lean against the vanity mirror behind me. The cold from the mirror hits my shoulders.

  “Shit, I’m so sorry,” he says in all seriousness.

  Running a wash cloth under warm water from the sink I’m sitting next to, he tries to wipe away the blood. He dug into my skin too deep. Four long sharp lines drag across the Roman numeral one. I’ll have new scars on top of the old ones. I start laughing hysterically. That inner voice that doesn’t belong to me screams at what an utter disappointment I turned out to be.

  Evan watches me with a mix of amusement and concern, giving me time to rein in my crazy bout of laughter.

  “Harper, are you okay?”

  He’s probably questioning my sanity and I don’t blame him. He just fucked me into oblivion and I loved every hot twisted second of it.

  I get control of myself and smile up at him.

  “I’m better than okay.”

  “Don’t lie to me, did I hurt you?”

  “Yes and I loved it.”

  I bring his face to mine so I can kiss him properly. Silently thanking him for shattering me to pieces and keeping my demons at bay.

  He scoops me off the counter and I wrap my legs around his waist. He walks us over to the bath and lowers us in the massive tub. Ru’ lays his wrinkled face on the edge, looking sweet and sleepy.

  Evan pulls me back into his arms, my back to his chest. He gathers my hair up in a topknot to keep my hair from getting wet as the tub continues to fill up.

  We relax into companionable silence for a time. Trading off washing each other. The soap burns the new marks on my skin.

  “About what we just did,” he starts.

  I’m afraid he’s going to say it could never happen again. Or that he thinks I’m disgusting with my clothes off. Worst of all, his words will sound too close to the ones that already echo through me.

  I turn to face him. “What about it?” I ask.

  I don’t want to play shy with him anymore. I need to see the look in his eyes when he speaks. They’re heavy lidded with lust as he cups my tits in the water.

  “That was the best sex I’ve had in my life,” he states.

  I internally cringe with his choice of words, because that’s the only consensual sex I’ve ever had. I shake it off.

  “So you don’t think I’m fucked up?” I ask.

  There’s no need for him to answer, I know the truth.

  “If you are then I’m all in. I’m so relieved to have someone respond to me the way you just did.”

  I’m pretty sure his statement is a lie. I can’t imagine anyone not enjoying having sex with him, but then understanding sinks in. He’s rough when he fucks and I doubt he has sex any less intense than what we just had. If my past was any different, I probably would freak out during sex with him too. Or at least not be able to take and revel in the pain he enjoys inflicting, because I know the vast difference between the kind of pain he needs to dole out and the kind that incites true fear. They are worlds apart.

  He pulls me to straddle him and we kiss, so devastatingly sweet. His warm mouth moves over mine, pulling me deeper into his spell.

  It’s the calm moments I think I’m okay, the heated ones are the most worrisome. I feel his length pushing up against my stomach. I move to take him back into me, but he refuses. He pushes me back and stands.

  I lick my lips and he catches my gaze as I stare at his impressive erection. I stay seated in the hot water.

  “Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?”

  It’s more of a statement than an actual question.

  In this moment, I would do anything for him. Whatever training the Sculptor intended, now comes up full force.

  I run my hands up his long legs, rising up on my knees as though I’m asking for his permission. I catch the slight nod of his head. His eyes smolder as he watches my tongue lick him. I taste the pre-cum on his tip and moan. One of his hands grasps my hair and urges me on. Encouraging me to worship him, pushing me to take more in my mouth. I cup his balls, while applying pressure to his cock. Slipping my tongue along the sensitive underside and swirling around the tip, before opening my throat to suck more of his hard length in.

  The power of the choice being mine makes all the difference.

  Evan suddenly wrenches my head back, painfully pulling the hair at the nap of my neck.

  “Get out of the tub,” his voice threatens.

  I wanted to finish him. I wanted to taste him. I wanted to witness him losing control again, because this probably is the only time he allows it. I’ve disappointed him. Panic and unease flare across my chest and I want to weep and figure out what I did wrong and correct my mistake… ‘Stupid slut, SUCK! Don’t you know what suck means? Haven’t those plump lips been used on more than just my cock’… I can almost feel the Sculptor’s fingers work my jaw open to accept him as I fall under the tidal wave of realization at just how fucked up I am.

  That blanket of sorrow I try to hide under dissolves as Evan’s arms lift me out of the water. He licks the tears off my face and steals my breath. Running a towel over me, avoiding the rough, reddened areas he inflicted. He runs the towel over himself and suddenly lunges for me, throwing me over his shoulder.

  I bounce on the bed when he tosses me off his shoulder. I squeal as he slaps my ass. A tight grip locks around my ankle and Evan flips me to my back as he pulls me down the length of the bed. He bends down and licks
over the gashes he made. It stings, but the warmth of his breath on my skin and the wetness of his tongue pushes the sensation into unchartered territory. Lips and tongue work up my stomach as he kisses the two stab wounds on my torso. Simple acknowledgement, but no questions come about their origin. The degrading number told him exactly who branded me. His eyes lock with mine as he peels away another mysterious layer of himself.

  I run my hands through his nearly jet black hair, needing the distraction. I hold his head to my breast as he sucks in my nipple and bites it lightly, teasingly.

  “I love your tits, Harper,” he says.

  Green orbs of otherworldly depths hold mine as he delivers the same attention to my opposite breast.

  “Do you think you can take me again?” he asks.

  “Yes, but I need a drink,” I lie.

  The time it takes him to leave the room to retrieve a glass of water allows me to suck air through my lungs, because when I’m in Evan’s presence, he steals it all for himself.

  When he comes back in the room, I envy the confidence he carries. That confidence is a gift and I’m sure it comes with a price. While I envy his posture and his self-assurance, I cross my legs dangling over the edge of the bed, feeling exposed and on display. I have to force my hands to stay on the duvet, instead of covering the truths and stains that make me the mess I am.

  After handing me the glass, I take a drink and give it back to him. He moves away from me and finishes the rest. Moving to a dresser he leaves the cup and comes back.

  The tip of his finger touches my ankle crossed tight over the other. The faint touch unlocks the grip I didn’t realize I made with my crossed legs. I don’t have a stitch of clothing on, but as Evan seduces the skin I overlook and mistreat, the shins I bump and bruise often, and the knees that scream for me to stop pushing so hard on my morning runs, he makes it feel brand new. His light touch sears through me and reveals an entirely different part of myself I didn’t even realize was there. His graceful, taunting, seductive fingers play across my skin and coerce my legs apart.

  It’s as simple as falling, and when it happens, the soft seduction is gone and the man Evan was presenting left with it. Those same soft fingertips are linked to the hard fists that push into the muscles of my thighs and harshly slams me against him. I gasp at the contact. He might have cared if I was sore moments ago, but he doesn’t give a fuck about it now as his iron grip holds me in place and there’s no room for air in my lungs or the ability to look away from his all-consuming possession.