Page 24 of Twisted Lies

“I’m starting to believe you,” I tell him.

Justin looks up. “Believe what?” he asks.

“That they put you up to it,” I reply.

“We’re all given tasks,” he replies, “and now, mine will be harder.” He looks at me sitting with my forearms resting on my knees. “When I say pose—change your pose. I’m doing a series of quick sketches first, and then I’ll work off one for my painting.”

I wait for Justin to ask, but he doesn’t, so I keep my top on. Justin nods his head to a silent rhythm as his hand flashes across the paper in a blur. His cheeks are flushed, but he’s not interested in sex. The concentration in his piercing gaze is like mine when I’m in the ring. He’s conquering his emotions by placing them on paper.

I glance over at the cloth stretched across the door and listen for movement from the other side. It’s silent. I sit up, and Justin frowns because I broke the pose too soon. I watch that frown disappear as I pull my sweater over my head, revealing a thin T-shirt. I pull it over my head and then reach behind me to unclasp my bra, tossing everything on the floor.

I lie back down on a drop cloth and glance at the curtain again.

“When people expect you to do bad things, you don’t want to disappoint them,” I explain calmly.

I do my best to remember my pose. Justin sighs in frustration and steps forward. I wait for him to touch me. I expect it, but instead of feeling my naked breasts, he touches my chin and gently tilts my head toward the correct angle.

“There,” he says, “keep that pose.”

I do exactly as he says, and my feelings for him have changed. He’s as serious about his art as I’m about sports. He gazes at my body as his hand strikes across the pad of paper. His brow creases in concentration as he draws. Justin pulls the page off the pad and tosses it onto the floor, immediately starting another sketch. Furiously slashing at the page, his gaze moves slowly over my body.

I sigh as if he’s touched me, but his hands never leave the paper. His gaze is the only thing that caresses my skin, and my body starts to heat. Justin brings me to the edge repeatedly, but he stays focused on his art until I’m ready to squirm out of my skin.

“Pose.”

Justin pulls the page off the pad, and I move my body, easing out a cramp. I place one hand on my breast; my hard nipple pokes out between my fingers. He watches my hand as he sketches. His long hair is falling across his face, but I can still see his eyes, intense and devouring as his hand creates what he feels. His look is stirring desire that flows toward the surface of my skin.

I pinch my fingers around my hard nipple and moan. I hold my nipple in my fingertips and arch my back slightly off the platform.

He bites his lips. His forehead glistens as his hand continues to move, and his breathing sounds loud in the stillness.

“Pose.”

His voice is thick as I roll onto my tummy, and my short skirt flips up, revealing my lean legs. I lie still, pressing my breasts into the hardwood platform, making them look plump and lush. I smirk. I can’t help thinking about the night we stole the laptop and how controlled he was even when I thought we would get caught. Justin will take a risk, and the thought makes me wet.

“Pose.”

He rips the paper off and lets it float to the floor. It lands near the platform, and I see what Justin sees when he draws me. My form is immobile, but he’s depicted the energy within me. My lips are parted as I stare at the ceiling. My expression looks welcoming, not desperate, but revealing a longing.

“We’re done,” he says, tossing his charcoal onto the easel.

Justin takes a few quick strides, and he’s beside me, sinking down onto the platform. His mouth latches onto my nipple, his blackened hand leaving marks on my pale breast. I moan, tugging his long hair over my bare skin.

“I want you,” he moans, “all of you. I want to trace every line and curve with my fingers. To possess you like a piece of art.”

His hand slips underneath my skirt. Slowly, his hand moves along my inner thigh. I don’t stop him as his finger trails over my panties, feeling the soaked spot in between my thighs. His lips secure mine, and I wiggle underneath his body as he lies down on top of me.

“Let me taste you,” he whispers, “I want to know what you taste like. I want you on my lips while I paint.”

I hold onto his shoulders. “Not here,” I smile sinfully, “I don’t want to be interrupted.”

Justin smiles and lets me go. “Then meet me tonight by the gate after curfew.”

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