Chapter 15
Fifteen
REQUIEM
I FIND PHILLIPE up in his studio later that afternoon and move over to the desk, placing my laptop down and opening it.
He’s sitting where I found him the day I arrived at the chateau, dressed in the same dark pants and a black turtleneck. His sensual eyes are stunning in contrast. I lean against the desk and take a moment to really look at him.
“Are we going to discuss what happened?” I ask, trying to make sense of everything I’m feeling and, possibly, everything he is.
“What is it you feel needs discussing, Gemma?”
“Stop it,” I tell him. I take a step closer, and that’s when he pushes up from the chair and moves in my direction, meeting me halfway.
Looking up at him, I’m struck for the first time in days just how incredibly attractive Phillipe really is.
His dark hair looks like he pushed it away from his face, but a few strands have fallen forward, flirting with his lashes.
“Stop what?” he asks in a voice I’m starting to dream about.
“Stop trying to intimidate me. I want to know you,” I tell him, taking that final step to him. It’s a shock to me when he takes one back.
“You don’t know what you want, Gemma,” he informs me darkly, those mysterious eyes narrowing.
“I seemed to know what I wanted last night. Wouldn’t you say?”
He shakes his head as I move again, taking one step forward to his step back.
“You didn’t know what you wanted last night.”
“Didn’t I?” I ask, starting to get annoyed.
I need him to open up to me. I want him to trust me, and the only way I can see that happening is for me to trust him.
“I knew exactly what I wanted last night. I wanted you.” I watch his mouth pull into a grimace, but I’m not finished yet. “And I wanted her. I still want her.”
As my words penetrate his mind, he looks me over. “You don’t know what you’re saying right now. Would you listen to yourself?”
Straightening my shoulders, I lift my chin. “How about you listen to me? I know exactly what I just said, and I know exactly what I’m feeling. I’ll admit that I don’t have the first idea why or how it is that I want her, but I do, just as much as I want you.”
Finally, he stops moving backward and takes a step toward me. He reaches out to grip my shoulders tightly. “Do you hear what you’re telling me?”
I lick my lips as his voice skates along my spine, touching every nerve. I shiver with anticipation.
“Yes,” I reply on a breathy sigh. “I’m sick and tired of hiding it from you.
You know what I’m reading, you know what you’re telling me, and I’m placing my trust in you.
I’m giving my body to you.” Swallowing deeply, I try to regain my slipping composure.
“I don’t know what it is you see, and I don’t know what you’re feeling, but when you bring her between us, something happens inside of me. ”
I watch as, almost in slow motion, he reaches out and fingers my hard, tight nipple.
“See? I’m not lying, Phillipe. You and Chantel have done something to me.” I shiver as I confess, “And I want you to do it over and over.”
As Phillipe stands there, listening to the words tumbling from Gemma’s mouth, he’s trying to tell himself that this is not a good idea. Not only is she only going to be here temporarily, she is also a journalist who is writing a story on him.
None of this can end well. She wants him to touch her, to break her down, and to crawl inside of her. She wants Chantel.
He knows she has been struggling to understand her feelings when it comes to the paintings, as well as her reactions to him, but to stand in front of him…
to confess her perversion? Well, he knows there’s no way he can walk away from that.
If anything, it makes him want to slide deeper inside of her to indulge in her debauchery.
“Honesty,” he says gruffly, removing his hand from her nipple to touch her chin.
She doesn’t flinch. In fact, she doesn’t even blink.
“If we go where you want to go, Gemma, if we get deep inside this head of yours, you have to give me honesty.”
Her eyes dilate and her lips part.
“Do you understand?”
“Yes,” she whispers, breathing slowly.
“You need to tell me what you’re thinking—all the time.” She nods as Phillipe wraps his arm around her, pulling her forward. “And if you want to scream her name out when my cock is fucking you, you scream it right into my ear.”
I can feel the inner muscles of my pussy tighten at his dark suggestion. How is it that with just a few simple, suggestive words, this man has reduced me to a quivering pile of flesh and bones?
“Can you be that honest, Gemma? Can you let yourself go and be that raw?”
I agree quickly, afraid he’s going to change his mind—or that I will.
He lets me go. “Acquiesce seems to be a perfect fit for you today, but it’s too cold outside. So let’s go down to the music room. You can pose there.”
He turns on his heel and walks away from me. I tell myself to move, to follow him, but for the moment, I’m stuck where I’m standing, wondering what I just agreed to.
I finally make my way out of the studio and head downstairs.
Passing by the painting of Rhapsody, or at least a print of it, I’m reminded of the first time I saw it only weeks earlier.
It still calls out to me, but now, instead of stopping to examine it, I find myself rushing past it to get to her music room, where he is waiting for me.
As I descend the stone stairs, I realize that I’m no longer frightened of what’s below. I’m anxious and extremely aroused.
I know what we discussed just moments ago affected him, and I understand his need to digest what I was truly saying to him.
When I reach the bottom step and turn, I’m greeted by bright lights. My eyes move around the odd room until I see him standing with his back against the wall, watching me quietly.
“Come in.”
“Said the spider to the fly?” I ask, stepping forward.
I see that he’s moved a wooden bench into the center of the room.
“Acquiesce means to submit or comply silently. Did you know that?”
“Yes,” I manage to say as I walk closer to him. “Where are your paints?”
“Upstairs,” he replies, his hands moving to his belt buckle.
Licking my lips slowly, I ask, “Then how are you going to paint me?”
I’m trying to focus on his face, but the soft snick and clink of metal is distracting me, so once again, my eyes fall to his waist.
“I’m not. The whole idea of painting you was to gain your trust. Obviously, I have it, since you told me upstairs I can do whatever I want to you. Over and over again.”
I swallow. “Why the bench?”
“I still want you to feel her, Gemma, to understand her.”
He reaches across the space to take a handful of my shirt, pulling me forward. I stumble, my shins lightly hitting the wood, as I’m held in a somewhat awkward pose.
“Now, I know you trust me. It’s time to see if I can trust you. I’m going to let go of your blouse, and I want you to take one step back, bend over, and place your palms on the bench. Can you do that, Gemma? Can you submit and comply silently?”
I blink slowly, my head starting to spin. He’s seducing me. I can feel him slowly sliding over me, searching for a way to slip past my defenses, and this time, I’m aware of it. This time, I want to be seduced.
He lets go of my shirt and straightens, and I do as requested. I step back and bend over. I place my hands on the bench, pointing my ass out.
I comply, and I do it all silently.
Phillipe watches as Gemma takes a step back. Eyes locked with his, she bends at the waist to do as he requested.
Her blonde hair has been left free today, and it falls like a curtain down both sides of her face. That just won’t do. He wants to see her face.
Making his way over to the elaborate sound and recording system, he turns it on and selects the piece he is searching for. Hitting play, he looks back to see Gemma with her neck crooked and her head raised.
“Have you ever heard ‘Lux Aeterna’ from Requiem for a Dream, Gemma?” he asks, reaching down to undo the top button of his pants.
My eyes are transfixed on him as the eerie piano begins to play over and over, and there she is. Chantel has entered the room with us.
The music and violin is filtering in from all around us, and it’s chilling. The intensely desperate melody floats around me, and it’s feeding some dark, fucked-up part of my brain. When he’s walking toward me, I know what he’s about to do.
I tremble with the startling realization that, as much as I want it, I’m terrified I’m going to end up craving him and the darkness that swirls around him, like the thickening air before a storm.
The violin starts to pick up tempo as he stops in front of me. He reaches out to brush my hair back from the right side of my face, tightly gripping it behind my head.
“Open your mouth, Gemma.”
Immediately, my mouth falls open, and the words submit and comply run through my mind. My eyes are now level with his open pants. I watch with complete focus as he pushes them down from his hips, so his thick cock comes into view.
He strokes himself roughly over and over to the rhythm of the violin as it begins again. I realize he’s placed the music on repeat.
Swallowing deeply in anticipation, I follow each rough stroke of his fist and feel myself becoming increasingly wetter.
This is exactly what I have been waiting to see ever since witnessing it just over a week ago.
He gives me a smirk that is so knowing in its sensuality that I almost come from that alone.
“Do you want to suck my cock, Gemma?”
I close my eyes, listening to the violin and his voice, as he grips my hair tighter.
“Yes,” I reply.
“Yes?” He steps forward to place the head of his cock against my parted lips. I can taste the salty fluid of his desire coating the smooth, bulbous tip.
I flick my tongue out, tasting him, before I lean forward, intending to take him inside my mouth.
The hand in my hair tightens as he tells me, “Not yet. Wait for it. Close your eyes, Gemma.”
His voice somehow finds its way to my brain, and once again, I submit.
“Now, listen to her. Listen to the passion in each movement of her bow as she strokes it across the strings.”
I listen as each note and chord is played with more passion.
“Now, Gemma, put your lips around me and suck me as eagerly as she once did.”
Moisture floods my pussy at the thought of her mouth wrapped around the flesh I’m about to suck. I open my mouth and gently slide him between my lips. His hand tightens in my hair as the music pulsates and pounds through my ears and he starts to fuck my mouth hard.
I brace myself on the bench, but he tugs my hair and the pain bites into me.
I lose balance and shift forward a little, causing his cock to slide all the way to the back of my throat.
He grunts and pulls out as I cough, but before I can say anything, my mouth is full again, and the piece has started over.
He’s slowed down and is sliding his shaft back and forth between my swollen lips. “You’re the complete opposite of her, but you’re so fucking stunning in your own way. Your lips…your lips are pink, though, where hers were red.”
I listen as he becomes a victim of his own seduction, and I watch as he closes his eyes on a groan, stilling. I wrap the lips he’s describing around him and take as much of him as I can.
He holds the sides of my head as he starts again, and this time, I’m ready when he pushes into my mouth like he’ll never have another chance.
Furiously, he tries to find release, but as I have seen once before, he can’t.
Pulling away from me, he curses loudly over the tragic music and tells me harshly, “Don’t move.”
My arms are trembling as they support me, and my legs feel as though they are about to collapse as the piano starts over, “Lux Aeterna” beginning once again.
He moves behind me and slides his hands around the waist of my pants, undoing the buttons and zipper. He tears them apart, pulling my pants along with my panties down my hips. My naked ass and achingly aroused pussy are now on display to him.
He grips my hips and, without so much as a warning, thrusts his cock hard inside of me, pounding into me from behind.
“This is the sweetest fucking torture.” He groans, sinking into my soaking core.
I shift my feet to get a sturdier stance and push myself back against him.
“That’s it, Gemma. Fuck me,” he demands, moving against me with one solid thrust after the other.
I feel a finger tracing the crack of my ass. He dips it to where his cock is furiously fucking me and swirls it around my arousal before bringing it back to trace my rim with his lubed fingertip.
“Oh God,” I moan as the tip of his finger pushes against my tight rear hole.
“She liked this, Gemma. She loved when I pushed my finger inside of her here.”
I feel his finger slip past the tight ring, but there’s no discomfort because my body is wound up from his insistent pounding.
As he thrusts deep one final time, pushing his finger all the way in, he tells me, “And she loved it even more when I fucked her here.”
That’s all it takes for me to scream, and, true to what he said earlier, the name that leaves my mouth is hers.