Another Brush Stroke (The Carnal Exhibitions Book 1)

by Barefoot, LW

  I pass the shots around the table, as we all salute each other, and slam one back, including Brad. His eyes linger behind me when he notices what I assume to be his boss come over. The look on Evan’s face frightens me. I was brave up until this point.

  I sit down and pick up the pitcher of beer and start pouring it in empty glasses. I don’t offer Evan any. I’m pissed and he keeps willing me to look his way. He knows now what I feel for him. Maybe only a fraction of the truth. But he had to have seen it etched across my face when we met outside that shop earlier today. Hurt and disappointment was all over me when that woman interlocked their hands together.

  I haven’t once believed I was the only woman Evan was involved with. I knew I wasn’t enough to be his only one. We never set parameters around whatever our relationship was, but I expected more than what he has given me.

  We continue watching and listening the band play through their set. Another round of drinks shows up at our table, but I don’t notice who brought them. I spend the rest of the night avoiding Evan. I catch Grayson watching us closely through the crowd.

  As soon as a new band starts setting up their equipment, Evan grabs my arm, and forces me to stand. I try to pull away from him, but his grip tightens in warning.

  “Don’t say a fucking word, Harper,” he hisses in my ear.

  I look around the table and the only person paying any attention to us is Brad. There is unspoken understanding between them. Kate and Jamie are too caught up in each other to look at us.

  The only person who sees me leave against my will is Grayson. He watches us in fascination. A smug smile cutting across his mouth. Our eyes meet for a brief second and I realize my earlier fear wasn’t unwarranted. Grayson’s smile becomes a scowl as he pays close attention to the way Evan drags me out on the street.

  Harper

  I’m smart enough to know not to say anything, to not cause a scene. Hostility is coming off Evan in waves.

  The same car we were in the first night we met, idles by the curb when we push past the doors of the venue and walk outside.

  The mix of alcohol and adrenaline in my system is dangerous. I want to smart off to Evan. I want to challenge him and I don’t want to consider the ramifications for those actions.

  The way he pushes me into the back seat, as if I’m an object pisses me off even more. He succeeds in making me feel like nothing more than an annoyance or an afterthought.

  I unlock the door next to me, crawl out, and think to myself that he can fuck off. But I don’t want to voice it and have him retaliate. I’m done. I slam the door in his face, but not before catching his angry stare.

  I walk a few feet until one of Evan’s men blocks me from walking any further. I turn to go the other direction, only to come face to face with Brad. I can feel the hurt in the weight of the tears I won’t let loose. I try to step around him, only to perform the same two-step I did with the other guard. I stare up at him. The look he gives me is full of pure remorse, but he doesn’t make an attempt to fix this. Whatever this is.

  Evan’s presence swallows me as his cologne tangles in the air around us. I keep my attention on Brad as a hand smooths up my neck and pulls me to his hard chest. Panic races up my spine. Brad looks away.

  “What the fuck do you think you’re doing, Harper?” A sharp tug on my hair and I’m forced even harder against him, his warm breath rushes in my ear. “You have no idea who you’re dealing with or who you’re running from. There’s more than one person you should worry about.”

  Evan releases his hold and escorts me back to the car, locking the doors as soon as he gets in. He barks at the driver to move it. Brad’s eyes lock with mine as the car pulls away. I guess he will protect me from anyone other than Evan. He knows how scared I am, but doesn’t do a damn thing about it.

  Evan’s anger pushes against me as he stares at me in the dark. Street lights play wicked shadows over our faces. The unwanted tears come down my face and I don’t try to hide them from him. I think back over the last two weeks of his absence. I danced around his rejection, or more accurately, his forgetfulness.

  As soon as the car pulls up in front of the entrance to my complex, I pop the lock and jump out. The relief I feel is short lived as I try to close the door Henry has open, trying to shut Evan out of the entrance to the complex.

  “Harper, do you know who that is?” Henry asks me in astonishment.

  He walks over to the main entrance to let Mr. Hawthorne in. The gorgeous poster boy for the city, but a complete and utter stranger to me.

  I turn and rush to my house. I don’t want to be anywhere near him. I thought I wouldn’t be affected by him after his cool dismissal this afternoon, but I was wrong.

  I make it to the front door, but can’t seem to find my damn keys in my bag. Brad’s usually with me and has them ready when we come and go. I’m clumsy and drop my bag, cursing under my breath as Evan’s shadow blocks out the light from the courtyard. He pulls a key out of his pocket and unlocks the door, while I pick up my purse with shaking hands.

  He holds the door open for me as the security alarm beeps in warning. His gaze is challenging as I stare at him, but I don’t make a move to turn off the alarm.

  “Jesus, Harper,” he spits and punches in the code to silence the alarm and secures it again.

  I take off for the stairs. My footsteps are calm, even though my legs tremble. I’ve had too much to drink to have a conversation with him now. I don’t want to voice the things ticking off inside my head and boiling my blood. Understanding of abandonment and rejection isn’t something I want to confront.

  Evan has no business being here. Not like this, not tonight.

  I get to the top of the stairs. The creaks from his footsteps play a tune to my fear. I yelp when grabs me by the nape of my neck and it causes me to lose my voice.

  He spins me around and slams his lips against mine, silencing my protest. It’s such a cruel trick. The only thing I’ve wanted was this, us, him, his lips, his attention, his body pressing up against mine.

  My craving for him has turned me into an insatiable addict and he fuels my addiction. I moan as his tongue licks against mine, drinking me in, while I pour what I’m feeling through it.

  He tastes like heaven with a touch of hell. He’s better than I remember and I curse because I need him to be worse. I want what he’s giving me, but I will be worthless when he’s had enough. He forces me to taste his need for me, bruising my lips and teasing me with his tongue until I’m gasping.

  He has leverage from the chuck of my hair tangled in his fist. Pulling me away from him, his mouth wet and swollen.

  “Tell me to stop, Harper.”

  He gives me a little shake, but I don’t know what he asks of me. I want him to stop his games, but right this second, I need his undivided attention.

  “Tell me,” he hisses and I lock eyes with him.

  I shake my head denying his demand. I may want him to stop toying with me, but he’s pushed me to the brink. He’s showed me enough of what I can expect and whatever’s brewing between us needs release.

  “Fuck you, Evan.”

  “That’s not helping. Tell me to stop or I’ll show you what your request really means.”

  I shake my head profusely. Evan tightens his grip with my denial and movements.

  “Fuck, Harper. You did this. This is all your fault.”

  ‘Fuck you, Casey. It’s always your fault. It’s as if you ask for this and it’s never enough.’

  His lips crash against mine and I cave. Kissing Evan is like breathing. It’s necessity. It’s need.

  I bite into his lower lip, moaning as his grip turns painful. He pulls away to lick his lip and comes back with blood on his tongue. He drags me to the large rug by the bed and throws me down on it. As if touching me is dangerous.

  “Say the words, Harper. I think you’ve bit off more than you can chew.”

  I look up at him in pure defiance. I keep my body down and submit. He pushes for me t
o stop him, but I won’t do it. I’ve uttered it so many times that red and white stop signs are starting to piss me off when I see them.

  “Fuck you,” I punctuate every syllable.

  “Last warning, Harper. Do you really think it’s smart to push me?”

  I nod as his hands go to his belt. Slipping the leather through the loops of his pants and I shudder. His belt swings in his grip, as he measures me up sprawled on the floor. Bending down, he grabs my ankles and pulls off my shoes. Solid hands drag me down the rug, burning my calves and thighs, making my dress ride up to my waist. Wrapping the belt around my wrists, he pulls too tight, cutting off circulation. He lets up on the pressure, as he attaches my bound wrists to the foot of the bed.

  My dress comes off in a swift tear.

  “Harper, look at me.”

  He doesn’t wait for my reaction, before he pulls my face back up to meet his. His look inflames me, his eyes dance in lust provoking excitement.

  “Show me. That’s right baby, I can’t refuse you.”

  ‘Let me see your fear, let me taste it.’

  Evan bends down and licks the salty streams off my face, causing more to fall. My tears are not silent messages of sadness or regret. They’re cathartic. They’re symbols of release and I’m almost afraid Evan’s going to stop on his own because of them. His thumbs sweep over the top of my cheeks as he searches my eyes. Digging deep and finding in them the determination that we both need this.

  He pushes his body between my legs. I stare at the ceiling because his gaze is too intense, he sees too much, and I’ve already laid so much out there. He releases himself, his large erection slaps free from his pants, hitting my flesh, and I shudder.

  “My gorgeous, Harper, you should know better than to run from me.”

  His fingertips trace feather soft down my cheeks, neck, the valley between my breasts. Slipping one of his hands around my back, he pulls the silk panties off as I lift my hips. The fabric scratches the skin on my hips with his force, exposing me to his greedy stare. His strong fingers find my core, while his other hand pulls my lower back up to arch my spine. Pushing against whatever resistance my muscles offer.

  He pushes hard into me with one long finger and rips my bra down with his other hand, completely exposing me.

  “Did you miss me?” he taunts me, as if I could lie, my body told him the truth.

  His palm rubs in tantalizing circles as he works another finger into me, his thumb finds my clit and he flicks it with his nail. He has me, every bit of me on his hand, coming apart, and I whisper his name and hate myself for it. Shallow tremors rake my nerves but they leave me desolate and not the least bit fulfilled.

  “Are you ready for me to stop?” he asks dead serious and I’m sick of him asking.

  “No. Don’t you dare,” my voice shakes.

  He guides his cock to my heat and uses my release on his hard length, before he shoves all the way in me.

  It’s too much, too soon, as I cry out at the sensation. He places a hand over my mouth to contain my screams of rapture. He stays completely still with my muscles gripping and tightening on him over and over.

  “I’ve missed you,” he whispers, the sound barely makes it to my ears.

  With one hand over my mouth, the other trails down my skin in a light caress. Our eyes connect as I adjust around him, and he starts to move in and out. I pull my hands against the belt, loving how it burns across my wrists. I wrap my hands around the post and use it to meet his thrusts, when he really starts moving.

  My arms strain and the leather belt digs into my skin even deeper than before. He’s relentless as he fucks me. Pumping into me over and over again. I meet his thrusts. The sounds of his approval fills me with some unknown pleasure and it spurs me on. His fingers circle my sensitive clit, bearing down on it, I scream even louder.

  The tears come down harder, as I try to catch my breath. Both of us fighting and pushing against each other, searching for bliss in this maddening dance. My tight cunt bears down on him, beckoning him to use me and telling him I love it. Because I do.

  The forcefulness of our movements cause the bed to creak on the wood floor and pound against the ancient wall. With another orgasm, I wonder what took him two weeks to come to me. He shoves into me one last time and groans. He unleashes his pent up desire and circles his hips, sending me into another endless bout of pleasure.

  Shame eclipses everything else I feel in an instant. I bit him and provoked him. If he hadn’t tied my hands up, I would have scoured them down his back and probably would have come away with blood under my nails. I should have told him to stop, but I didn’t. I used all my hurt and rage and spurred Evan to use me, in turn, using him. And I hate myself a little more with that realization.

  He catches his weight on his elbows, before crushing me. He reaches up and undoes the belt from the foot of the bed, releasing my arms. His fingertips are fire, taking my shaking wrists in his hands to help the circulation. He moves to take my lips, but I turn away.

  I try to push him off, but he doesn’t allow it. He cages me in with his body and presses his lips over my throat. Bringing his head up, brushing his lips against mine. There’s no backing off until I succumb. He cradles my face as his lips rule over mine. It’s the calm after the storm. It’s the comfort I crave.

  He breaks away to stand up and finishes undressing. I rise on unsteady legs to move to the bathroom, but he grabs me, encircling me in his arms. We stand and hold each other as our breathing evens out.

  I want to get into the bath so he can leave. I pull away from him minutes later and he allows it. Not waiting for the water to warm before I sit inside the tub. Pulling my knees up to my chest, I rest my head on them and close my eyes. Willing Evan to get out of here, because I’m too much of a coward to face him. Too insecure with myself to trust my tongue around him. But he doesn’t leave. He gets in behind me and pulls me against him, like he did in Chicago.

  I feel him study me and he asks, “Did I hurt you?”

  I shake my head, but catch myself.

  “Yes, but not tonight,” I admit.

  “I have things I have to deal with right now. You wouldn’t understand the situation if I tried to explain it.”

  “Like the two women you were with earlier?”

  “I swear it’s not what it looked like.” He sounds as exhausted as I feel before adding, “It’s complicated.”

  “It’s none of my business,” I exclaim.

  If he could play it off, so could I.

  ‘I never lied to you. You were all I ever wanted.’

  His long exhale of breath whooshes across my damp skin. It’s as if he’s relieved I didn’t hound him. He kisses the back of my neck in silent gratitude.

  We finish bathing and get out of the tub. I slide underneath the sheets, kicking the comforter off, and I watch him. I close my eyes as he drops his towel and starts to pull his pants on. His footsteps echo as he leaves. I’m so confused and I’m mad at myself because I wanted him to stay. My mind can’t control the rolling emotions and confusion clouds over every single thought.

  Every hair I possess stands on end when straining boards give away someone coming up the stairs minutes after Evan left. He stands in the door with a bottle of water in his hand. He sits on the edge of the bed, handing me a couple of pain killers. I slip them in my mouth and wash them down with the water.

  My heartbeat speeds up as he walks to the other side of the bed, takes his pants off, and climbs in behind me. Pulling me to his warm body, spooning me. I flush as his erection nestles against my backside. He leans over me and starts running his fingertips along the edges of my shoulder, pushing the sheet off. Barely touching me, stroking around my collarbone, and up the underside of my neck. All the tender areas of my skin he’s never touched before he skims over, writing beautiful deceptive poetry without words. The cool night air causes my skin to pebble and I shiver.

  “I’ve wanted to be right here, every night I’ve been away from you,
” his warm breath whispers across me and I’m thankful I’m facing away from him.

  Fingertips graze my nipples and circle them. He continues to trail his hand down across my stomach and up over my hip. Reaching down, he grabs my inner thigh and guides my leg back, placing it on top of his. His light tickling resumes.

  Those strong hands are soft as his fingers move to my sex and he moans when he discovers I’m wet. I’m stretched open and waiting for him to enter me. He’s gentle as he pushes in. His fingers come back to the front of my entrance. Lightly tapping my oversensitive clit to the rhythm his hips set, pushing and pulling, in and out. He forces my left leg higher, moving his hips faster and faster. The instant shift from sweet to sinful has my pussy gripping him tighter. Beckoning for him to continue, but he stops the tapping of his fingers. That delicious pressure before I fall over the edge resides. I moan and push back against him, trying to take control.

  Unintelligible sounds escape me when he shoves his cock hard and swift all the way in. He’s too big and I can’t force myself to calm down and accept him because I’m strung too tight. Evan pulls out and slams back in. Slowly backing away and fucking harsh as he comes back.

  “Who owns you?” he whispers.

  ‘Say it, slut. Tell me who owns you, who fucks you, who’s going to keep you forever.’

  His hand bruises my hip, using it to pull me closer to him. His large chest rubs against my much smaller back. My thoughts scream ‘no’ but my body shuts them out and locks the word behind unsteady locks.

  It pisses him off when I don’t answer him. He’s been pissing me off for far too long.

  A rough smack across my ass has me bearing down on him even tighter, conjuring up the forgotten orgasm.

  “Tell me, Harper. Fucking say it.”

  He slaps my clit so hard I convulse. Spasming, milking him, his fingers rub harder against it. Harsh hurtful bliss erupts as his teeth latch on the top of my shoulder and sinks in. Biting me so severe I scream again, only louder and I come harder.