Page 104 of Make Me Dream of You

“Sorry.”

“If you’re good, maybe you’ll get a reward after I’m done.” She smiles and I straighten, getting back into position.

Modeling is hard. I know that now.

My hip aches. I let out a little sigh. It feels like I’ve been in this position for hours.

“I’m almost done,” she says. “It’s only been thirty minutes.”

After another hour, which, according to Livvy is only fifteen more minutes, she finally says she’s done, and I can relax.

“You did a good job.” Livvy walks over to me, biting her lip, a burning in her eyes.

“I did?”

“Mmhmm.” She drops to her knees and my erection springs instantly to life.

As soon as her perfect lips close around the bulging head of my cock, I throw my head against the sofa, eyes rolling back.

“I’ll pose for you any time you want,” I pant.

She takes me in, to the back of her throat.

“Multiple times a day if you need me to.”

“So, can I see the drawing?” I ask as I pull my sweats back on.

Livvy wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, her cheeks still crimson, pupils dilated. Sexy as hell.

“Sure.” She nods and I follow her over to the easel.

She’s oddly quiet, biting her lip as I come around to look at it.

It’s gorgeous.

It’s a hell of a lot better than any of the drawings I did of her. I expected to see a drawing of me lying on the couch. But this—this is more of a study of light than anything. It captures the whole space. The feeling of the room, somehow. The large windows behind me are bright while my figure is mostly in shadow. My profile is outlined in a perfect glowing rim light. It’s peaceful, contemplative. It feels warm.

It’s how she sees me and at the same time, it’s how she makes me feel.

The way Livvy talks about art, how a piece can have the power to evoke an emotion, to have a deeper meaning to the viewer—I’ve never experienced that before.

“Wow,” is all I can say.

“Do you like it?” The tiny crease between her eyebrows vanishes as her smile grows. Her smile takes my breath away.

“I love it,” I say.

A voice in the back of my head whispers, you love her. What the actual fuck? It’s not my normal breed of morbid intrusive thought, but somehow, just as horrifying.

I shake it from my mind.

“You can have it.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” She laughs. “I’ll even sign it for you. I don’t know if it’s special enough to display or anything, but you can do what you want with it.”

She’s wrong there. It is beyond good enough to display and I already know what I want to do with it. “Do you know what you’re going to put up on the wall in the shop?”

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