Page 10 of Sinister Games

I turned her into the first gallery on the left. Leading her over to the exhibit sign, I read out loud, “A sensuous interpretation of classical myths of love, temptation,” looking down to meet her gaze, I finished, “and punishment.”

Even in the dim light of the museum, I could see her emerald eyes shimmer with flecks of gold as I emphasized the illicit word. Her beautiful mouth opened on a slight gasp. Running the tips of my fingers down the center of her back, I lingered long enough to feel the tremor run over her body before stepping away.

Knowing she would follow, I approached the first painting, Diana and Actaeon.

Elizabeth read the plaque. “Isn’t Actaeon the one she turned into a stag?”

Stepping behind her, I brushed her hair over her shoulder, exposing the delicate seashell curve of her ear. “Yes, but look at his face,” I whispered.

We both gazed at the intense color and bold brushwork of the painting. Taking in the sensual curves of Diana as she stared boldly at Actaeon, who had interrupted her bath.

Allowing my breath to caress her bare neck, I murmured, “Just one look at her perfect form is worth death to him.”

Just as she started to lean back into me, I walked to the next picture, suppressing a smile at her slightly peevish pout over my abrupt departure.

The next painting was Danae and the Shower of Gold.

Taking Elizabeth’s hand, I ran my thumb over the sensitive skin of her inner wrist as I asked, “What do you see?”

“I see the goddess Danae lying back against large silk pillows.”

“What else?” My hand went to her hip.

Elizabeth licked her lips. The soft pink now glistened, beckoning me.

“I… I… don’t…” she stammered as my hand slid down to the top of her thigh. The tips of my fingers tracing the hem of her sweater dress, skimming her warm skin.

Leaning in, I murmured, “Do you see how her legs are open? The position of her hand between them?”

Her breath came in jagged gasps. Almost unwittingly, she slid her feet wider. Her boots squeaked slightly on the polished floor. In answer, I let my fingers drift slightly toward the soft, exposed skin of her inner thigh as I leaned in, allowing my chest to brush her back.

“She wants Jupiter’s possession, the feel of him penetrating her body.”

“Oh, God,” breathed Elizabeth. Her small hands fisted the fabric of her dress, forcing it higher up on her thighs.

“What is your favorite part about this painting, my little bird?”

Her head shook slightly. “I… I don’t know… I can’t… think.”

Taking a lock of her hair between my fingers, I caressed the long length before giving it a sharp tug. I watched as tears formed in her eyes from the unexpected sting of pain, turning their green-gold depths a shining evergreen. “Mine is how her mouth is open,” I growled suggestively against her neck.

Elizabeth turned into my arms but I stepped back and away a few paces, ignoring the confused look that darkened her features.

I passed several more paintings before coming to my personal favorite, and one from my own collection, The Rape of Europa.

Placing my hands on Elizabeth’s hips, I positioned her directly in front of me. Shifting my hips forward, I pressed the edge of my hard cock against her lower back, wanting her to feel my arousal.

She groaned as her head fell back onto my chest.

Pressing my fingers painfully into her flesh, till I felt her small bones, I leaned down till my chin rested on her shoulder, inhaling the lemon verbena scent of her hair.

“This one is my favorite. Europa helplessly sprawled on the back of the beast. Her clothes torn. Her knees spread.”

I shifted, pressing my cock more firmly against her back, letting the soft rise of her ass cradle it.

Elizabeth’s hand reached around to grip my thigh.

“I love the way her head is turned away in shame. As if she is embarrassed by her own desires.”

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