Page 61 of Brat Baby
I swallow around the lump in my throat. His muse? “You can, you know.”
“Can what?”
“Cover your house with drawings of me. I’d love to pose for you.”Please say yes, please say yes.
“Maybe…” Darcy draws out the word, a little V forming between his eyebrows, but then he tenses the slightest amount.
If I wasn’t so intently focused on him, I wouldn’t have noticed it.
“What if it wasn’t for my house? What if it was for an exhibition?”
“I… as in, public? Like, people would see me like this?” I gesture at the canvas, my pulse thundering a mile a minute.
“Not exactly like this. The concept is about being tied up by societal expectations and how that can stop a person from figuring out who their true self is. Not every image would be of pleasure, but yes, some of them would show ecstasy.” He tightens his hold on me before sliding one hand up to cup the underside of my boob.
Heat immediately rushes to my pussy, and I stifle a moan.
“There would also be pain, anger, fear, loss, confusion, joy, sadness, comfort. The full range of the emotion spectrum. I want to capture it all. Every single one of your emotions on my canvas so that I can learn what strings to pull to get you where I need you in my ropes.” He rolls his thumb over my peaked nipple, and I suck in a breath.
Images of being tied up for him, suspended off the ground while he sits there, staring and drawing, flood my mind. At the complete mercy of his ropes and the feelings that surge within me, unable to do anything to save myself except exist through the session.
Fuck.
“Say yes, princess. Let me draw you and put you up for all the world to see.” He whispers those last few words and my eyes slide shut. “Say yes.”
A tiny voice in the back of my head is screaming at me that maybe I should be thinking about this a little more, but I slam the door on it. If this will make my Angel happy, then I’m doing it. “Yes…”
“Yes, what, princess?”
He brushes over my nipple again, with a little more pressure, as his other hand slips down my stomach. Heart thrumming nervously, I try to think through the fog. Does he want me to call him Daddy? Or am I wrong? I don’t think I can handle the rejection again.
But… I’ll never know if I don’t try, right? He wanted to hear it during sex. And saying yes to being in his exhibition means I will get another chunk of time with him. I need to be like I was on the weekend—balls to the wall.
I need my brat courage again. Somehow, not looking directly at him makes this so much easier.
So, I take a deep breath and jump in. “Yes, Daddy.”
“Good girl, princess. Fuck, I can’t wait to have you posed for me, again.” Darcy turns me in his arms, and to see my own happiness shining on his face brings tears to my eyes. “Margot is going to kill me, but I don’t give a shit. She’ll just have to find the right gallery.”
Smiling, because his enthusiasm is catching, I tip my head to the side. “Margot?”
“My agent. She’s always trying to keep me on this side of the common decency line, but not this time. I’m drawing you the way I want you drawn, the way I see it in my head. She’ll have to keep her pearl clutching to herself.” He has a slightly manic look, like when he was drawing.
Laughing, I step out of his arms and head over to my clothes. “Okay, as long as I’m not the one that gets in trouble.”
I start pulling on my pants, just now noticing that my panties are definitely starting to cash in on Darcy’s earlier threat. Good thing the walk back to the dorms is only a few minutes. I had no idea until today how close the art college is to my building.
Once I’m dressed, I turn back to Darcy, who is staring at the couch, eyes unseeing.
“Daddy,” I call out gently, and Darcy’s head snaps up in my direction.
He scans my body and frowns. “You’re dressed.”
Laughing, I reach down and scoop up my backpack. “Well, yeah. You need to go to Derek’s, remember? And I need to go eat and study.”
Darcy seems to snap out of whatever mood he was in, his body giving a slight twitch before he comes over to give me a hug and what is rapidly becoming my favorite thing in the world—a forehead kiss. “Will you be going back to the apartment this weekend?”
I pull back, frowning. “You knew I was there?”
