the sheets shifted away from the heated skin. The soft pads of your soles hit the ground softly and, concealing your curves, whilst your cheeks heat up once more to he’s implying, drawing away, his long, pale fingers are stained in all manner of substances and he seems able to smudge the excess paint or pastel dust on his digits everywhere, your bed or books, kitchen utensils or even you. Slowly he closes his eyes, and after a moment of still thought, he plunges his hand forward. The thin sticks of ashen darkness meets his fingers and he smiles. Bingo, charcoal. His inspiration; your form imprinted in the covers on your side of the bed and when he closes his eyes he could see how you’d lain there. “Amour,” he calls out, seeing the door opening to reveal yourself, a towel tied hastily around you and your body still dripping wet. “Is something wrong?” you ask apprehensively, relaxing somewhat when you notice his dreamy smile, which appeared on his face when he saw you. Flushing pink, you wrap your arms protectively around your torso. Sacré Dieu! Did that man have wonder fingers or what? A sigh manages to seep through your throat, your shoulders hitting his chest. He smiles warmly, cooing at you in French. Your eyes close. Silence on your part goes unnoticed by the blond Frenchman, who’s calling you all the sweetest pet names he can think of. A soft trickle of water trails down your neck, following your collarbones and diving head-first down your cleavage. Your toes curl almost involuntarily, for want of warmth through movement. You grunt at him and his hands envelop your hips, bringing you to sit between his legs and in his embrace. The way you were presented in his drawings made it seem as though he loved a stunning girl, more beautiful than you’d ever seen. Ever so faintly you could see some resemblance to yourself, but there was no way that you really looked that way; no way that you exuded that raw, erotic aura. After a silence of three well-counted seconds, you see him shake his head. You gulp something hard down your throat, not knowing why you felt like crying. “Sadly enough, I’m still not able to capture your true beauty, no matter how hard I try.” Hope sparked inside of you and you reach up to brush the hair from his stubbled face. A smile turns his lips up and he presses his palm to yours, keeping it there as he continued. “You stun me like no other, you enthral me so and yet…” It seems as though he might start crying, he looks so pained. “And yet, I still can’t do you any justice.” He’s whispering now, his lips brushing yours as he speaks. “I fear the goddesses may smite me down when I discover how to truly draw you, they will be so jealous of you.” “Did you really just compare my so-called beauty to that of the goddesses though?” His hands touch your hips and all of a sudden, you don’t feel so cold anymore. “Oui, because you can triumph over them.” His lips press against the corner of your mouth, his embrace taking on a more heated feeling as he presses you to his chest. His fingers lift up the corner of your towel-dress, but you protest and push it back down. “Hey now, I just took a shower.” You start to say, before you’re interrupted by him kissing you.
Posted on: Sun, 22 Sep 2013 04:34:36 +0000
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