Page 77 of Make Me Scream

He shakes his head.

“No, what do you mean?”

I chuckle, swinging in place.

“He wanted to paint classical nudes with tattoos. This reminded me of that.”

Lane smirks.

“I like his idea. But no, I’ve done pieces like this before.”

Once he’s done outlining my bones, Lane switches to a royal blue and fills in the space between my ribs. When that’s done, he adds red rose blossoms and green, thorny vines that snake around my arms and legs. Painting around the chains makes his task more difficult, but he doesn’t release me.

He circles around me, painting my exposed skin everywhere except my ass, which still throbs.

By the time he finishes I’m shivering on the outside, burning on the inside. I glance down to admire his work, but can only glimpse a small portion of it.

“Are you going to make a portrait of me?” I ask, hoping I sound more inquisitive than suggestive. “Or… or photographs?” I’m not sure I want him to take pictures but… at least I’d look really good.

“No. This is just for us.”

“But I’d like to see the rest of it, sir.”

Lane nods.

“Fair enough. Wait here.”

He steps out, leaving me to wonder how he’ll show me what he’s done. Is he going to get a canvas, to paint my portrait, only to destroy it after? Does he have a Polaroid camera so he can take disposable, non-digital pictures?

He returns after just a minute, carrying my purse.

“Your phone’s in here?” he asks.

“Yes, sir.”

“You care if I take it out? Is there anything in here you don’t want me to see?”

I smile. I think I know what he has in mind.

“No, sir. Go ahead.”

He reaches in without looking, feeling around until he has the phone, then slips it into my hand — which is still bound behind my back.

“Unlock it,” Lane says.

Smirking, I run my finger across the screen, entering my PIN by feel alone.

He takes the phone from me, turns on the camera, then begins snapping pictures, circling me to capture every angle. The camera shutter sound effect clicks elicit fresh shudders through my core.

“Take a video, sir,” I say, writhing in place.

Lane chuckles.

“Are you giving me orders now, pet?”

Me cheeks flush, burning beneath the layers of paint.

“No, sir, I-”

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