Chapter 59
Pulling into the parking space at my gallery, I turn off Kingsley’s jeep.
When I climbed on the back of his bike and we rode to where I had parked Kingsley’s jeep, I watched him pop the hood and lean inside.
He reconnected different wires, held out his hands for the keys, and restarted the car.
He told me to get in, and I did. He climbed back on his bike and rode ahead of me.
The physical distance of the car was like the distance between the vehicles.
Now, I’m back. Sitting in the same spot. My body is still tingling from the last time he fucked me in the kitchen.
The sound of the motorcycle pulls in behind me, and I watch out of the rear view as he pulls in easily.
His big body is so rawly masculine, so sexy.
I want him again. The way he fucked me, I can’t even put into words what it felt like for him to move that body over mine, inside me to orgasm with him.
I touch the cut on my neck. It still stings, but even that sliver of pain turns me on.
The way he licked the blood off my body. I shiver
He lights a cigarette, sitting on his bike. He looks at me. I can feel it. The stare. I shakily open the door, wondering if I should invite him upstairs. What does he feel right now? Stepping out, I round the back of the jeep and stare at him. He climbs off the bike and walks to me.
We stand facing each other. His face is closed; nothing tells me what he’s thinking.
We don’t speak. I don’t know what to say.
We fucked the entire weekend. The man gave me more orgasms in those three days than I’ve had my whole adult life.
We did taboo things that I still can’t believe.
I wouldn't believe it if it weren’t for the bloody rag in his sink the next morning and the small bandaid right between my breasts.
The fact that I loved it should have shamed me, perhaps would have shamed me a few years ago, but I can’t find it in me to feel any sort of discomfort about what we did, because I liked it.
No, I loved it. The way he groaned and whimpered when I cut him, taking control.
That kind of power has never been a part of sex for me.
The way he begged me to taste him is something I won’t ever forget.
“So what happens now?” I finally blurt, determined not to scurry away from this, from him.
“Nothing.”
“And tomorrow?”
“I don’t live in tomorrows.I live in today.”
“What does that mean?” I ask, confused, consumed with the need to hold on to something, to maintain something with him.
For a second, I see something in his eyes, something that looks like regret, and it pisses me off. The smoke from his cigar curls around, enveloping us. “That means that I want your pussy whenever I want it.”
“So just sex?”
He’s slow to respond, his eyes searching mine. “Yes.”
He says it simply, as if just wanting is enough for him, but after spending time with him, I’m not so sure if it’s enough for me.
“There is shit in my life Cam that you cannot fathom. Pain and destruction and you don’t—”
“I don’t what, Stone?”
“You don’t deserve to be caught up in it.”
“You don’t know shit about what I deserve. You won’t let it be more,” I argue, hating the look on his face.
“Fuck’s sake.”
“You can pretend all you want, but I know it’s good between us.” I don’t need him to agree with me. I know he knows. I felt it in the way he called my name. The way he held me. I’ve never had that before, and if he’s faking it, then he’s a damn good actor.
“We fucked, Countess, but that’s all it can be.”
His cruelty is rolling right off me, because I know him better now. It’s his way of keeping me at arm's length. “So I’m just supposed to be ready and available for your dick?”
“Or anything else I want.” He barks, pissed off, energy radiating off him.
I step closer and touch his chest. The telltale shiver pumps power into my veins. “What about my brother?”
“What about him?” He watches my lips, and even though I’m annoyed and exhausted, my body wants him.
“He’s your friend.”
“That doesn’t change things. He doesn’t change this.
” A hand grips my ass, bringing me right into the V of his body.
The ridge of his dick rubs against his long T-shirt.
“You’re going to still fuck me when I want, and how I want.
” He drops the smoldering cigarette on the ground and grabs my head, blowing the last remnants of smoke into my mouth as he kisses me.
I open my mouth and swallow the cloud of tobacco; memories of the last time he did it bombard me.
Wrapping my arms around his neck, I lean into his body, sliding my tongue along his, moaning, allowing him to control my body.
“Let’s go upstairs,” I whimper, ready to fuck again.
“No.”
A flare of anger hits me
“That bothers you, Countess?”
“Yes.”
Why?”
“Because you rev me up, like some toy and then walk away. You’ve been doing it since I met you.”
“That’s me, Camryn. I’m a bastard. But that’s not why I’m not fucking you right now.
As much as coming down your throat, and prepping your ass would be delightful, you need to rest.” Stone touches the soft skin under my eyes.
The gentle sweep of his fingers makes me sag against his body.
“There’s something waiting for you upstairs. ”
“What?” I murmur tiredly.
Before he can respond, his body tenses, and I stare up at him to see his focus behind me. I turn to see Onyx standing in the doorway, watching us. He doesn’t look at me, just keeps his eyes trained on Stone. Everything about him screams a warning, and goosebumps erupt along my skin.
“We need to talk.” Onyx’s voice carries across to us.
Stone drops his hand from my face and then looks back down at me. The softness I spotted in his eyes before is dead, leaving behind only empty pools of black.
“Go inside.”
He walks away, leaving me standing in the parking lot.
He steps into his shop behind Onyx, and the door shuts behind them.
The ‘closed’ sign swings, mocking me. A clear sign that I’m not part of whatever the hell is going on with him and Onyx.
I want to follow him and find out what is happening, but I recall those bloated, disfigured bodies rotting on his property.
Bodies that he chained there. Do I want to know what that exchange meant? Probably not.
I grip my keys in my hand and head to the gallery, and open the door, stepping inside.
Locking it, I step over the even bigger pile of mail on the floor.
Of course, the mural stares right at me.
I never got to ask him why he did. Yeah, you were too busy begging him in a dark forest. It’s even more stunning in the daylight.
Every stroke and line is beautifully done, and I love that it is what visitors will see when they visit.
Would he ever consider a show featuring his art?
A giggle escapes, thinking about Stone circulating the gallery, having to make small talk with art critics and guests.
His towering 6’6 frame, tattooed body, and scowling face would actually be a hit.
The mysterious bad boy biker with his allegorical drawings.
He would sell out the entire gallery. An image of him standing in the gallery runs through my mind, except this time it’s just him and me.
The look in those phantom eyes makes me shiver. Even pretend Stone gets me hot.
And of course, in that moment, I remember what he said. “There’s something waiting for you upstairs.”
Eager to find out what he meant, I head upstairs and open my front door, looking around, hoping to spot whatever he left. The last gift I got was that box of charcoal and paints that I have yet to use because they are just too damn pretty to use.
Not finding anything, I venture into my bedroom, and it feels like I’m dreaming. There is a freaking king-size bed in the middle of my bedroom. My palette is long gone.
“What the hell?” I whisper, stepping in closer, in disbelief that it exists.
He bought me a fucking bed.
An enormous, comfortable-looking monstrosity that takes up the entire room.
Who the fuck is this man? At every turn, he’s surprising me. Somehow, my feet start moving after the shock wears off, and I move into what I thought was my bedroom, but has now turned into something out of a fantasy book.
The bed, covered with a plush dark green duvet and a mountain of pillows, rests against the ornate headboard that goes to the ceiling.
The intricate wood design appears to have been carved by hand.
I step closer, studying the details. The satin is a deep, rich brown color, and the carvings resemble wings on either side of a tree, with accents that mimic curling wisps of smoke.
It looks out of place in my small, shabby apartment.
It’s regal, fit for a queen. The nickname Stone gave me chants through my brain.
The color of the spread is gorgeous, sexy, and sumptuous, pooling on the ground. I lick my lips when my eyes go back to the six pillows at the top of the bed.
“Lift your hips, Countess. These pillows will help my dick go deeper.”
God, that smoky, gruff voice is going to haunt me until the end of my days. Stone was right. When he pushed pillows under my hips the last time he held my legs back and pushed his dick inside me, he felt impossibly deep, and his finger was right on my clit the whole time.
A circular shape in the wood catches my eye. I blink, unsure of what I’m seeing. Stepping closer, I squint, stepping closer because my eyes must be deceiving me. There are small metal hoops anchored in the wood on either side of the headboard.