Элла Франк - Blind Obsession

“I’ve always been able to feel you, right from the beginning.”

He reached out and ran a hand down her hair. “I remember. You looked right up at me. I thought you were beautiful. I needed to talk to you.”

She raised her hand, and he reached for it, bringing it up to rest palm open on his chest.

“You feel my heartbeat?” he asked.

She nodded and tapped her finger. “It’s so strong that I could use this like a metronome and keep time when I play.”

“It beats for you.”

“As mine does for you.”

He reached across the bed, pulling her closer to his side under the sheets, until their legs were entwined and their noses brushed.

“I want you to tell me everything, and I want to tell you everything,” he expressed as eager as a child.

She grinned against his mouth as her eyes shut, and she brought her free hand up to trace her fingers down over his cheek and jaw.

“Everything?” she questioned, and kissed his mouth.

“Yes, everything,” he implored.

“I love you. That is the beginning, and that is the end. That is everything.”

He rolled her over, so she was lying on her back. He followed until he was above her, hands on both sides of her dark hair. He touched the strands gently and looked down into the loving eyes peering up at him. Her eyes were so beautiful that they stole his breath.

Leaning down, he pressed his lips to hers, kissing her reverently. Her eyelids fluttered closed, and he felt her thighs part slowly, allowing him to slide sensually between her legs. When his cock brushed up against her warm mound, her mouth parted against his lips as she sighed.

 Her breath was becoming his, their souls becoming one.

“You, Chantel. You are everything,” he told her as he brushed his fingertips across her lowered lids. He closed his eyes and rocked his hips, pressing himself lovingly against her.

“Your lips,” he whispered. “Your eyes, your talented fingers, and your perfect soul. All of that is everything I want, and everything I need.”

Bringing one hand down her body, he traced her warm hip as she lifted up, allowing his hand to move under to her curvy ass. Squeezing it gently, he raised her hips and pushed against her.

“Let me inside.” Gently biting her bottom lip, he pleaded, “Let me inside, and never let me go.”

She arched up, her body wrapped in sunlight, and her thighs squeezed his hips tight while she pushed her wet folds against his pulsating desire. Rocking against her, he felt her juices as they coated the tip of his hard cock. She was so ready, and her body was so needy that she cried out as he teased her with a gentle push, only giving her an inch before sliding back out of her completely.

Her ripe lips parted on a sigh as she arched up once more, pleading silently with her body. So, again, he slid inside her heat. This time, he pushed a little deeper and a little harder. As he retreated from her body, he felt her greedy pussy gripping him tightly.

Her neck strained back on his pillow, and the sheer eroticism of the moment crashed down over him.

“Phillipe,” she moaned.

He couldn’t help but bring his free hand up to her face, tracing her parted lips with his fingers, while his other hand lifted her hips, tilting them and once again positioning them for his smooth slide inside her tight warm center.

She gently sucked his finger into her mouth and swirled her tongue around his fingertip, teasing him, much like his cock was teasing her body. She bit down and raised her hips, letting him know that she was done playing.

Removing his finger, he placed his hand by her head, palm flat on the soft mattress, and he squeezed her ass where his other hand was holding her.

Leaning down, he kissed her mouth. He told her, “I love you,” right before he thrust his cock deep inside her, feeling her warmth as it flooded over his hard, sensitive skin.

Bracing himself, he slowly moved inside of her, slowly, like the beginning of a beautiful orchestral piece. He started out steady and calm. As her mouth parted and her thighs tightened around his waist, his hips moved faster, and the fury was upon them as they crashed down to earth.

Each entwined in one another, and each bathed in the other’s love.

* * *

No, he thinks as he stands and moves to the window, looking out at the arbor.

He can’t keep Gemma. To pretend otherwise would not be fair. While she is here though, while she is here with them, maybe they can share her for just a little longer.

Day 12

I find Phillipe up in his studio later that afternoon. Making my way inside the room, I move over to the desk, placing my laptop down and opening it.

He’s sitting where I found him the first 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 up against the desk and take a moment to really look at him.

“Are we going to discuss what happened?” I ask, taking this moment to try and 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, moving forward.

I take a step closer to where he is seated, 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 as to just how incredibly attractive Phillipe really is. His dark hair looks like he’s pushed it away from his face, but a few strands have fallen forward, flirting with his lashes.

“Stop what?” he questions 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 a retreating 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 in disagreement 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 query, 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 explain. 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 before allowing those hot eyes to come back and land on my face.

“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 almost in slow motion as he reaches out a hand 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 that are tumbling from Gemma’s mouth, he’s trying to tell himself that this is not a good idea. Not only is she going to be there temporarily, she is also a journalist, a reporter 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 commands 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 moves his free hand to her waist. He 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 soaked pussy spasm and clench 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?”

 Quickly, I agree, afraid he’s going to change his mind—or that I will.

“We will see,” he muses, letting 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.

* * *

As I finally make my way out of the studio, I 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, except 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.

He’s 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?” he inquires smoothly.

“Yes,” I manage to say as I walk closer to him.

He, too, has moved and is now waiting for me on the other side of the bench.

Finally, I stop opposite him. “Where are your paints?”

“Upstairs,” he informs, his hands moving to his belt buckle.

Licking my lips slowly, I raise my eyes to his again. “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.” His low voice stops as my eyes return to his. “Over and over again.”

I swallow before asking, “Why the bench?”

“I still want you to feel her, Gemma, to understand her.”

That’s when 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.