Blind Obsession (22 page)

He reaches across her waist with his left hand. “Sit still, Gemma, and tell me what you see.”

“I see Chantel,” she finally replies.

“Yes, so do I. What else do you see?”

“I see her violin. I see Diva.”

At the mention of the violin’s name as though it is an actual person, Phillipe feels a small grin tug at the corner of his mouth. He takes the side of the towel in his fingers and pulls it away, leaving her body on full display.

She moves automatically, trying to cover herself, but he drops the towel’s edge and shifts his arm back to hold her in place.

“Shhh, don’t hide. There’s no one here.”

“You’re here,” she points out.

Phillipe chuckles sinfully before he gently bites her naked shoulder. “Yes, but I’ve been looking at your beautiful breasts for the past few hours, Gemma. So, what’s the problem?” he queries. “Is it her?”

Breathing a little harder, she asks, “Who?”

Phillipe lifts his head and licks her earlobe. “
Her
.”

***

I close my eyes, trying to remind myself that
she
is not really in the room with us.

“No, that’s ridiculous.”

“Is it?” he questions.

His teeth nip my lobe. I can feel my pussy clench every time he licks and flicks the soft skin of my ear.

“Yes. Why would I care that the paintings are here?” I ask, trying to convince myself as well as him.

He shifts his arm that’s wrapped around my waist, and his hot palm slides down to my bare thigh. Slowly, his hand slides between my legs, and I watch, mesmerized, as he gently tugs on one of my thighs. Like a puppet on a string, my legs part until they are splayed wide on both sides of his.

As I lean my back against his front, resting my head against his shoulder, he slides that same hand up my thigh until his fingers finally graze my soaked core.

“Oh, Gemma, you are very,
very
wet. Look.”

He inhales deeply and raises his fingers, so I can see them glistening from just one touch between my thighs.

“So, what is it that has you so excited, Miss Harris?”

I moan at the formality he adds to my name, reminding me how inappropriate this kind of relationship is with him. Returning his strong fingers to the warmth between my legs, he rubs against my swollen clit.

“Is it me?” he murmurs.

I push my hips up to him. I know he isn’t going to stop there.

When he pushes the tips of his fingers inside of me, he asks the forbidden, “Is it her?”

I clamp my bottom lip between my teeth and moan loudly.

“Ahh, now we’re getting somewhere.” His conclusion slides over me.

His other hand comes around me, and I watch as his palm cups my right breast. He squeezes and caresses it while his other fingers slowly push deeper into my aching body. As I’m leaning back against him, spreading my legs wider, I am completely aroused by the sight of the most erotic scene I have ever been a part of.

“Look at her, Gemma,” he instructs.

I’m having a hard time tearing my eyes away from his hands while they play over my needy body.

“Now, tell me what you
feel
. What do you feel when you look at her?”

I close my eyes, trying to find some sort of anchor to hold me steady, as he tells me, “Wake up, Gemma. Open your eyes.”

My heavy eyelids open, and I find myself now staring at the image of Chantel in
Armor
.

His seductive voice asks again, “How do you feel?”

“Hot,” I answer softly.

“I can’t hear you, Gemma. Louder,” he tells me while his fingers rub over my hard nipple.

“Hot. It makes me feel hot,” I repeat louder. I arch out my chest, chasing his fingers as they move over my skin.

“What else?”

Looking at the painting hanging in front of us, I let my eyes run over her. I confess, “Needy. She makes me feel needy.”

He groans in my ear as his fingers once again push deep between my wet folds. “You’re so fucking turned on. I think she makes you wet. Doesn’t she?”

Squeezing my eyes shut, I wait for his firm fingers to retreat, so they’ll give me that delicious high when they slide back into my greedy demanding body.

His hand stills as he asks quietly, “What happened yesterday, Gemma?”

Stiffening in his arms, I feel my thighs tighten. I try to get a grip to pull myself away, but there’s nothing I can do. His fingers are sliding between my hot swollen lips while the other hand is pulling and twisting my nipple.

“Stop,” I say, panting.

“No.”

God help me, my slick cunt clenches in response to his refusal.

“Tell me,” he demands, like a dog with a bone.

Between gritted teeth, I answer, “No.”

His long fingers brush my clit gently. “Are you ashamed?”

Shaking my head, I arch my hips, my entire body begging for release.

“Did it have something to do with her?” he persists.

I cry out when he tightly pinches my nipple.

“Did it?”

I don’t answer. I can’t. Instead, I bring one of my hands up to my neglected breast and start to pull and twist the straining peak.

“Yes, Gemma,” he urges with a deep groan. “Touch yourself. Feel me touch you, and look at us while your body sings. It is singing, Gemma. It’s weeping and crying all over my fingers.”

Flexing up my hips, I finally feel his long fingers push deep into my tight, wet core, and I cry out, pinching my nipple hard.

“Oh yes Gemma, fuck my fingers. God, you’re fucking beautiful,” he whispers.

This time, he seems far away. As I turn my head against his shoulder, I see his eyes on the painting in front of us. I know I should be upset that he is looking at her while his fingers are thrusting inside of me, but it turns me on even more. Knowing that he is touching me while fantasizing about her makes my body quiver and clench uncontrollably.

I finally give him what he wants. “Her,” I confess, my breath brushing over his cheek.

He turns his head, so his eyes are once again locked with mine. As I look from his eyes to his lips, I feel his hand flex between my thighs while his fingers slide out only to push back in hard.

“What about her?” he asks, his eyes dilating.

I can feel his cock pushing insistently against my ass, and I grind against it as I move my hips to meet each thrust of his fingers. Almost cruelly, he pinches my nipple, and I still my hips, biting my bottom lip to control the scream I feel building.

“What about her, Gemma?” he demands.

I decide now is as good a time as any to confess my sins and have them washed away. “I had a fantasy.”

Our eyes never waver as he slowly pulls his long fingers from me. Forcefully, he pushes them back inside, making me groan, but I stay focused on him.

“What kind of fantasy, Gemma?” he questions, his voice gruff. His mouth is stretched tight in a grimace.

I close my eyes, remembering the thought of her, while I tweak my nipple. “She was touching me.”

Before anything else can leave my mouth, he removes his hands, gently pushing me away, and I stumble to move. I’m terrified I’ve gone too far, but before I know it, he’s pulling me down to the rug on the floor. I feel the plush material against my back as he throws the towel, which has been our only barrier, behind us.

Looking up, I cautiously study him while he sits back on his knees. As he unbuttons and unzips his jeans, he looks above me to the paintings hanging all around us on the wall. I raise my legs up and slowly spread them in invitation. When his eyes finally come back to me, he can see everything that I’m offering. Pushing down the denim, I notice he’s naked beneath, and I feel my pussy clench at the sight of his thick, veiny cock when it’s finally freed.

Breathing hard, I lock my eyes with his fiery ones while he crawls up my body.

He places his palms on both sides of my head. “I’m all fucking wrong for you,” he rasps in my ear.

The smooth, hard tip of his shaft pushes against my soaked slit, seeking entry.

I turn my head, so my lips are now against his ear. I tell him the only truth I feel right at this moment, “I don’t care.”

He rears back slightly and thrusts his strong hips forward, pushing his pulsating cock deep inside of me.

As he moves his large body over me, I open my eyes and tilt my head back to look up at the paintings on the wall. As my eyes come back to the tortured man moving above and inside of me I notice that he, too, has his eyes on the woman above us, and I can’t help but think he is right.

Phillipe, Chantel, and I—we are three.

ACQUIESCE

Chapter  Fourteen ~ Acquiesce

Day 12

Acquiesce ~

It was a beautiful day today. We spent all morning down in the arbor.

Phillipe had asked me to come outside with him for a while, and he’d requested that I bring Diva with me.

“It’s the perfect time to pose for me. Penny won’t be back today so she won’t be shocked.”

“Shocked?” I asked with a small laugh.

“Yes, to be shocked.”

I felt him shift his weight as he leaned down over me where I was still lying in bed.

“Now, why would she be shocked if we’re outside in the arbor?”

He pressed his lips to mine, and I giggled as his hair fell forward, tickling my face.

“Because you won’t be wearing anything but the sun.”

“I won’t?”

His smile curved against my mouth. “No, you won’t, unless it’s me.”

As he moved away, I sat up, chasing his movement across the bed.

His hand touched my cheek as he invited, “Come with me, Chantel. Let’s go outside in the sun.”

***

The following morning, after reading through one of the entries, I close the journal and get up, making my way to bathroom. Looking myself over in the mirror, I realize that I’m having trouble recognizing the face that is staring back at me.

Before I arrived here in France at the chateau, I knew exactly what I wanted to do with my life. I knew where I was going and exactly how I was planning to get there, and a few weeks ago, Phillipe Tibideau was just another part of that future progression toward my dream.

Now, I’m finding that the longer I stay here surrounded by memories of
her
and moments with him, I feel myself changing. Everything I thought I knew suddenly seems so unclear.

Originally, I came here intending to uncover Phillipe’s secrets.

Now that I’m here, I’m finding my feelings are changing, and I’m discovering that I’m not so eager to share.

Shaking my head, I reach up, running my hands through my hair. Pushing it away from my face, I hold it in a ponytail and turn my head, glancing at my side profile. I smile, trying to see what he sees when my face pulls a certain way when out of the corner of my eye, I swear that I see movement. Dropping my hands quickly, I turn but find nothing.

My heart is racing, and as I stand frozen in the small tiled room, I feel as though
she
is here. Ever since last night in his showroom, I’ve felt her more intensely than ever before. I look over to the space where I thought I saw something. Even though I know how ridiculous the notion is, I can’t help but wonder what she thinks of me.

***

Picking me up, he carried me down the stairs and led us outside into the warmth of the sun. We laughed the whole way, and he kissed my nose as I rested my head against his shoulder.

“So, what do you plan to do with all these paintings?” I asked.

He finally set me down on my feet. “I don’t know,” he replied, moving around me.

I turned in the direction where I thought he had moved. “What do you mean you don’t know? You told me you wanted to touch the world. What happened to that man?”

Warm palms pressed through the thin fabric of my shirt as he wrapped his arms around my waist. His lips nuzzled into my neck as he gently kissed it.

“He met you.”

Lifting my hands, I stroked my fingers through his silky hair. It was longer than usual, and I loved running my hands through it, feeling the soft texture against my fingertips.

“So, you met me and abandoned your dream? I don’t like the idea of that.”

“No, Chantel. I met you and decided that I didn’t need to touch the world.” He rested his stubbled cheek to mine. “I just need to touch
you
.”

***

Moving back out to the bed, I sit and pick up her journal again to continue where I have left off.

It’s clear she was in love with him. I can feel it in every entry she typed, but she had yet to say it.

I think she would be the kind of person who would type it over and over, but then it occurs to me that words weren’t her way.
No, they’re mine.
Music was her way of showing how she felt.