Page 46 of Painting Her Fate

(Lili) “let me get a good look at you.” I guide my hands up and down his abdomen, running them along the fine trail of hair that leads to what I can predict, given his size, to be a happy place indeed.

A muffled,Bad Companyby Five Finger Death Punch trills from the sofa cushion. He doesn’t react to his mobile ringing, instead continues devouring me as his hands come around to unclasp my bra. My mind clicks back to reality, and I break the kiss, breathless, I ask, “are you going to answer that?”

He huffs his disapproval when pecking my lips, “Just ignore it.

*peck*, That’s what, *peck*, voicemail is for.”

He cups the back of my head taking control, and for once, I allow it. I give into the moment and just let it be and soon the ringing stops. Our kiss snaps back to where we left off. His tongue glides tastefully against mine. Hungry. Possessive. Devouring.

My knickers are drenched as my thoughts stray to those big hands of his delving beneath, his thick fingers tantalizing and sliding inside me, stroking right where I desire most.

How many years since I’ve allowed someone the pleasure of driving their cock inside me?Six, or so, I’d say.

Eighteen was a short-lived phase of rebellion. I’d rather not think about it.

So, here is the real question: when did I ever enjoy it?

Never. You have never enjoyed it.This is true.

Some might say I’m a born-again virgin.

But darling, there are so many fascinating ways to enjoy sex without penetration. Poor sheltered minds.

Oh, hush now, mistress.

Courage and blazing determination flare within. I barely recognize myself as I bite his lip gently, “This is all I’ve thought about since the bookstore.”

“You’re not the only one.” Approval flares within him as my bra comes lose, my breasts spilling free as he tosses it to the side, his eyes gleaming with lust. “Mistress, may I?” He growls wickedly and cups one in his palm. I slammed my mouth over his to quiet him.I say when, dear boy.

Giving in to the mistress and reckless control, my hands glide to his belt to unclasp it. Zander brushed tendrils of damp hair behind my shoulder exposing my chest, then his nimble fingers traveled lower, round my ribcage to the large tattoo covering my right side. As soon as I have his belt undone and start on his zip, there is a shift in the atmosphere as his hands go still.

*Terrified* He found them.

There is no way to play them off as beauty marks; they’re too big and I have too many of them. These are marks from my monster, my constant reminder.

Zander’s hand tightens on my hip.That’s it, this is going to chase him away, I know it. Run! Get away!I need to be stronger than that.

The room fell silent, all but for our staggered breathing. His wide eyes connect with mine, the fire within is now just a whisper; the inferno snuffed out and coals raked over.

Shit. Here we go.

“Lili-.” He whispers, then falls silent. His thumb slides over the largest set of marks, scars I’ve tried hiding within my art piece. Isn’t that what true art is all about? To find the deep hidden meaning the creator is trying to convey to their audience. There is quite a bit hidden within my portfolio.

His mobile Sounds once more and he let out a curse. I push away his hand touching my marks, humiliated by anyone touching these reminders.

How could I forget?“You should probably take that.”

“It can wait.” The fingers of his opposite hand tighten around my hip. Utterly embarrassed and face aflame, I turn my gaze away, situate my bra, then go to shift off his lap.

I thought I could do this. But I can’t- I can’t.My pulse thrums in my

ears, my throat tightens.Safe space- get to your safe space. No one can get to you there. I take his wrist, remove his hand from my body then stand too quick, going off balance and bumping into the coffee table.

The loud crash of ceramic as it hit the wooden floor reverberates off the walls. I find my top then race to my bathroom.

Once inside my safe space I pant hysterically as trembling hands fling the medicine cabinet door wide. Finding the life-saving item, I pop the cap off the Xanax bottle, fill the glass with shaky hands, and down my dose.Breath, in and out.

Setting the empty glass on the counter, I grip the sink and stare at this shell of a lass in the mirror. Deep dark eyes that mimic a stormy sea stare back. I’m fourteen again, terrified the monster will find me.I don’t ever want to go back to that place again, please, it hurts too much.I sink to the floor, my back against the cupboard and my knees drawn to my chest, the onset of tears ready to spill over.

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