Page 50 of Her Irish Treasures
My cheeks heated, remembering every graphic detail of his body. “Yeah?”
“I want to watch you paint Doran next.”
7
Iset up another canvas as Doran stripped down to his skin. Ivarr already sat on the bed, propped up with pillows like he was getting ready for a really good show. At least he’d kept his boxers on. The sight of two beautiful, powerful naked men would have been my undoing.
“I can’t remember ever posing for a portrait before,” Doran grumbled more like Aidan. “Are you sure you want my hulking beast on your canvas,mo stór?”
It dawned on me that the gigantic man was nervous. He thought it highly unlikely that I’d find him as attractive as Ivarr. Granted, Doran’s body shape was completely different, even when he wasn’t shifted into the gargoyle. His shoulders were massive. His barrel chest huge. His arms too long. His hands and feet massive. His thighs like giant pillars of cement. Even his facial features were large in proportion to Ivarr’s, and the busted nose certainly didn’t help disguise the heaviness of his brow.
Add in all the scars and cuts to his big body…
And I was spellbound. I’d thought of him as a majestic lion before. An aged king who’d fought off dozens of challengers over the years and had the battle scars to prove it. He wasn’t handsome in the traditional sense. But there was a definite sense of royalty in the proud tilt of his chin. Grace in the way he moved despite his size. Even more telling, in my opinion, was his gentleness. He had never handled me in a way that made me afraid.
Aidan could grab my arm and haul me around like the impatient asshole he was, but Doran would never handle me that roughly. He didn’t dare because of his size. Aidan’s harshness was all a bluff anyway. I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he wouldn’t ever hurt me.
Doran’s gentleness wasn’t a bluff. He would never fail to guard his actions and movements around me to ensure my safety. He was just too big and strong to ever forget his own strength.
I grabbed the blank canvas I’d put on my easel and took it back to the others stacked along the wall. I needed something bigger for Doran. I wanted to capture his full majesty, like a king on his throne. The gargoyle on his perch. If they had perches? I really wasn’t sure.
I came back with the largest-sized canvases that I’d purchased, one in each hand. Because once I got started, I didn’t think I’d be happy with only one painting. Unless…
Unless I ended up leaving one of them unfinished so I could get into bed with them.
Because yeah. Just staring at the two of them, so different yet so similar, waiting for me. In bed… This would be some of my fastest painting ever.
I cocked my head to the side, envisioning what I wanted to do. “You know how gargoyle statues are on the tops or sides of buildings? Watching for evil? That’s what I want you to look like, only on the bed.”
Doran cast a concerned look at the bedframe, as if afraid it wouldn’t hold his weight. It wasn’t anything fancy—but Vivi had insisted that I should have a comfortable place to rest in between paintings. She never would have bought something cheap and flimsy, so I was pretty sure whatever frame the mattress sat on would hold up.
Climbing on the foot of the bed, he crouched down over his feet. Knees splayed wide, those big hands gripping the edge of the mattress like it was a roof of a building. Braced on the very edge, his forearms immediately caught my attention. All that strength. The corded lines of muscle and sinew and ligament drawing my eyes up the length of his arms to massive, bulging shoulders and his thick, muscled neck.
Gulp. I picked up my brush and sank into that image, capturing every muscle with loving detail. With Ivarr in the shadows behind him to adequately reflect exactly how large Doran was. Ivarr’s eyes began to gleam with his golden light, casting more of Doran’s face into shadow. Though I caught the gleam of his eyes. The flash of his white teeth in the darkness. Sharper than I imagined. More like a wolf. Or a bat, maybe. His? Or the gargoyle’s? Or just my crazy muse? I wasn’t sure.
“May I ask for something myself,mo stór?” Doran’s rumble deepened, rattling the very foundations of the building.
I nodded, though I didn’t look up from my work.
“Paint yourself into the next one. And when you’re done, put yourself here. With us.”
8
Icouldn’t remember painting myself before. When I looked at myself, I didn’t see anything interesting enough to capture on a canvas. But I wanted to be in this picture. I could see it so clearly.
Me, standing in the gargoyle’s shadow. Dressed in something white, flowy, and elegant despite my short, curvy body. Reaching my palm up to the gargoyle’s cheek. Pressing my lips to his. Watching the stone flow away to reveal the man beneath.
The bedframe groaned as Doran shifted his weight. I focused on him rather than the painting in my head. Instead of perching at the foot of the bed, he’d moved up to the headboard and reclined against it like a throne. One knee up, his elbow casually braced on it. His other leg bent slightly, his hand casually on his knee.
His thick cock jutting up in silent invitation.
I stared a moment, captivated by the memory of him inside me. Filling me up. Pushing me higher than I’d ever flown. Had I ever climaxed so hard before? I couldn’t remember—but maybe those memories had been destroyed by the changeling too.
I couldn’t dwell on that thought without making myself ill again. I had no idea when Jonathan might have been replaced. When I might have had sex with my ex-husband—versus a changeling fae creature that had devoured my memories.
My brush moved over the canvas, seemingly with a mind of its own. I was there in that painting. The white gown flowing around me. My head falling back with exquisite pleasure as I lowered myself onto his cock. His big body a fortress, a place of safety that I could always turn to. My mighty protector.
Golden light flowed through the vision, shifting my perspective. Ivarr’s beautiful body curled around mine. His arms supported me as I rode Doran. The light in the darkness. The truth cutting through the lies. With Ivarr’s light, I would always see through any illusion. I would know…
