Blind Obsession

Chapter Nine ~ Want

Day 8

I am ashamed to admit that I hid for two whole days. As I am lying here in bed, I continue to find myself reflecting on everything that happened that day up in his studio. With a paintbrush, no less.

I’m still trying to understand all that took place, but what it ultimately comes down to is that I invited Phillipe Tibideau into my body.

Well, in actuality, there was no inviting. It was more of a hostile takeover. He took over my senses, including any common sense I possessed before arriving here.

Reaching up to my mouth, I touch my lips and remember his on mine as he played my body so expertly out in the vineyard only a couple of days before.

One thing is certain. My judgment becomes compromised when it comes to Phillipe, and I have no immediate idea on how to stop myself from wanting to be compromised over and over again.

Today though, I want some answers from him. I want to know why people thought their relationship was unhealthy. Why did the world turn against a man that only months earlier they had revered?

The obvious answer seems too simple. There has to be more to it because the man I am coming to know doesn’t fit with all that I have read.

Why wouldn’t he defend himself publicly? Why wouldn’t he save his name?

Twice now, I sat in a dark room—a room that for all intents and purposes is cut off from the world—and he blindfolded me. He had every opportunity to do as he pleased, yet he didn’t touch me while in pose.

No, he waited until my sight was restored, and my attention was focused, focused solely on him before he…what? Seduces me? Tempts me? Destroys me?

That is the word that my mind keeps returning to—destroyed. That is the word that has been thrown around and used in conjunction with his name, but I don’t feel destroyed. I feel alive. I feel needy and hungry.

Lying here with just my thoughts for comfort, I’m shocked to discover that I feel no shame in what we did, even though I probably should. In the face of reflection, I’m craving what I am seeing instead of running from it.

Suddenly, I understand Chantel’s words because the wave has come, and I feel it pulling me under.

Want ~

This morning, I awoke to an empty bed, or to be more precise, an empty mattress.

Phillipe had decided that since we were spending so many hours in the studio, we should just bring a mattress up here. So, two days ago, he’d done just that and hauled his huge mattress up into the studio. It had all been very romantic when he’d placed it beneath the window. Kissing me, he had pulled me down onto it and told me that now he could touch me under the stars, just like he’d touched me under the sun.

That was not all that happened. This morning, I discovered what it means to truly want another. Want in every way that the word can be used. To need, crave, and desire another.

Phillipe had gotten up early. I could tell because there was no sun warming my skin, like it had every other morning. Rolling over, I reached my hand across the pillow beside me. I noticed that it had already cooled, so he’d been up for a while.

That was a shame because I had wanted him to make love to me this morning. I was restless.

Sitting up in the makeshift bed, I held the sheet to my breasts and called out to him. “Phillipe?”

When I got no answer, I lay back down and shut my eyes, waiting a few minutes before calling out for him again. “Phillipe?” This time, he responded from the foot of the mattress, surprising me with his sudden nearness.

“Yes?”

“Oh, there you are.” I responded as, I felt the sheet being tugged on at my feet.

“Let go, Chantel,” he instructed, his voice darkly persuasive.

Releasing my grip, I almost moaned as he pulled it away from my body. It slid down in a silky caress until I was left lying there naked, save for the beginning of the morning sun that was warming my body as it finally started to rise.

“Where were you?” I asked.

I waited for him to climb up my body, for his lips to find mine, but this time, it didn’t come. He wasn’t there.

“Phillipe?”

“I’m still here,” he assured me. He offered up no other words.

When the intensity of the silence started to unnerve me a little, I questioned, “What are you doing? And, if you aren’t coming over here, can I have the sheet back?”

He chuckled low and deep. “No.”

“No?” I queried.

I gasped when his warm hands circled my ankles and pulled me down the bed. My legs were now hanging over the end of the mattress, and they were spread wide enough that I could feel him kneeling between them.

I moved to sit up and touch him, but he told me, “No.”

He placed a palm between my breasts, pushing me back onto the mattress. His hand slowly slid up to the base of my neck.

“No?” I asked again, like this was some kind of new erotic game we were playing. It was like a push and pull of want.

His big palm slid back down the center of my body, as his fingertips circled my navel before tracing a direct line down to my spread thighs.

“I want to slide my tongue between your legs and taste you. Can I do that?” he murmured as he dipped his finger down to flirt with my swollen folds.

“Yes.”

I moaned as the tip of his finger pushed into my greedy pussy. I had woken up wanting him, and now, there he was, touching me the way he always did. He touched me in a way that made me think I was losing my mind.

“Will you let me paint you like this today?”

I swallowed and squeezed my eyes shut. Trying to gain purchase, I raised my right foot to the edge of the mattress, lifting my pelvis closer to his hand. I needed him deeper inside of me. I needed more.

He stopped touching me between my thighs and moved to grip my ankle.

“What’s this?” he asked. He raised my leg and nipped at my anklebone. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“I need—” I panted and moved my hands to my breasts.

As I started to rub my palms over my nipples, he groaned.

“So do I,” he whispered.

Before I could even think about what was happening, he tugged me down, pulling me fully off the mattress, so I was straddling and kneeling over his naked lap. I could feel his steely hard cock now pressed between our bodies as I gripped his shoulders. I arched my hips closer to him, imploring him to come inside of me.

“I was going to take it slow this morning, Beauty.” He growled in my ear as his hands stroked up my back.

One of them found its way into my hair, gripping it and tugging it, so my neck was bared to him. His lips found the spot right at the base of my throat, and he sucked on it hard, the sting of pain making my pelvis flex and buck, seeking what was throbbing between us.

“I was going to take it slow and easy, but I can’t,” he explained.

He shifted me, raising me up a little. I felt him reach down between us, and then the tip of his cock was there, pressing up against my drenched gate.

“I just fucking can’t.” He moaned into my chest as he pulled my body down.

His cock delved deep inside of me.

“Fuck.” He groaned, holding me still on top of him.

My arms were wrapped around his neck, and my breasts had to be close to his mouth. When he told me to open my eyes, I felt his breath tickle across my nipples.

“What do you see?” he asked.

At first, I wasn’t sure what he meant.

As he held me tight against his body, my breathing accelerated. My arms and thighs were now firmly wrapped around him, securing my pussy’s grip on his frustrated hard cock.

“What do you mean?” I moaned. I was desperate now to move and satisfy this hunger.

“I mean, tell me what you see, the way you see it, in here.” He emphasized his meaning by kissing my temple.

That was when it hit me. I knew exactly what he wanted me to do, and I wanted to do it. Smiling, I released my hold around his neck, bringing my hands up to his face where I started at his hairline. I smoothed my fingertips along his forehead and spoke to him as I went along.

“I see you frowning, maybe from concentration because your cock is in me, and you want to move…” I stopped when I heard his breath leave on a low groan. Then, I added, “Hard.”

“Jesus.” He cursed.

I felt my wet tight heat contract, fisting him as he throbbed inside of me. Bringing my hands down to trace lightly over his nose, I told him how sexy and strong I knew his face would be. As my fingers reached his lips, I stopped and leaned down, my tongue following the path of my finger.

In a low breath of air, I told him, “Your lips are sexy. The top one is thinner than the bottom, and it has a dip here in the center, like a bow. But it’s this bottom lip that I dream about. This is what I imagine biting as you thrust into me over and over again. Your lips are perfect, and they drive me out of my mind every time you put them on me.”

The anguished sound that rumbled from his throat thrilled me. I felt his hands slide down my back where he began tracing those imaginary marks on my skin again. F-holes, hmm. Suddenly, I thought about his fingers and where they had flirted before, but he nipped on my fingertips, bringing my attention back to my task.

“Where was I?” I questioned softly. I felt those same lips smirk against my fingers.

“I’m not sure, you naughty woman. You disappeared for a moment.”

Feeling seductive and playful, I leaned over and whispered in his ear, “Yes. I was thinking about F-holes.”

“Fuck me, Chantel. Hurry up.”

I laughed softly at the sexual power I possessed. His hips shifted again, as he held on to his control, which I have to now admit was pretty impressive.

Going back to the game at hand, I traced my fingers down over his neck. “I see a strong neck with a sexy bump here, and I know that’s what makes your voice so sinful and deep. Just hearing you say the word paint makes me wet.”

“Really?”

“Hmm,” I responded. I rocked my hips on his, feeling his shaft slide deeper.

Knowing that I was not going to be able to hold on much longer, I moved my hands over. “Strong shoulders and arms are wrapped around me. Your chest is solid, and it makes me want to bite it. Down here…” I paused as I smoothed my palm down his body, all the way to where he was nestled deep inside of me. “Down here, I see you and can feel you, hard, veiny, and throbbing, as you sit here so patiently. Your entire body is tense, and you feel like if I even breathe wrong, you might explode inside of me.” Once again, I tightened my inner core around him, and I heard his harsh breath. “I see you taking me fast and hard any second now, and I can’t wait.”

That was when he moved. His whole body grew taut and tense as his muscles bunched, and I found myself lifted and pressed flat on my back as he wedged his cock even deeper inside of me.

“Guess you breathed wrong then because I can’t wait another second to fuck you,” he rasped out against my mouth as his hips took control of him.

It was as though he gave himself permission to let go, and everything came crashing down. He pushed my knees up high against my breasts. I couldn’t be sure, but I thought he was kneeling as he thrust into me one time after another, each a little harder and a little deeper, stripping away any coherent thoughts I had left.

“You’re so fucking unbelievable. How are you real?” he demanded with a forceful thrust. “Let me tell you what I see, Beauty.”

His palms pressed my legs high and wide against my body, and on each solid flex of his hips, I felt my breasts shift and move.

“I see your eyes—those beautiful but frustrating eyes—looking up at me and offering everything I fucking want. I’m going to take it.” He growled out in a voice I hardly recognized. “I’m going to take everything you’re offering and more. I see your body laid out before me. You are open, vulnerable, and so fucking sexy that I can’t help but want to own it.”

My breath was out of control at this stage. His words and movements seemed to be stealing from me something I would never get back as his mouth touched mine. His lips, those sensual full lips, sucked my bottom lip into his mouth, nibbling on it before he bit it gently.

“I see you and I becoming one.”

With my legs pulled up between his chest and mine, he drove his hips hard as I arched up.

“Now! I want you now!” I screamed out. As I heard him chuckle, I added boldly, “And don’t tell me no.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he responded against my mouth.

His lips left mine, and his hands gripped my shins. He fucked me hard, just as I had predicted he would.

I’d heard about people falling in love, and I’d heard about lust. What I had never heard of was this all-consuming need to be inside another human being.

I felt this desperate compulsion to become one with him.

This was desire. This was to crave. This was what it felt like to want.

Closing the journal, I shut my eyes in a desperate attempt to control my breathing.

It is becoming increasingly clear to me that Chantel was just as enamored by Phillipe as he was by her. If this last journal entry was anything to go by, the relationship seemed to have taken a turn for Chantel after she moved in. That’s when things started to get intense. It also appeared to be the moment when he changed and started to become more mysterious—well, to me anyway.

Another question I want answered is, What happened that morning?

Something had happened—that I’m certain of. Something had happened before he’d gone to lay down with Chantel. Something that had made him react in a needy way.

Yes, that’s it. I stand, moving to the window, as I think about that for a moment. He seemed needy that morning with Chantel, almost as though he needed her to want him, and in the end, she did. More than she ever had before.

A knock on the bedroom door startles me out of my thoughts. I make my way over to it, pulling my robe around me. When I find Phillipe on the other side, I’m shocked. He hasn’t been anywhere near my room since I arrived, and now, it has been two days since I have seen him.

As usual, the sight of him makes me agitated in some fundamental way. It usually starts with desire, before it quickly morphs into confusion.

He’s dressed in jeans today. They seem odd on him because I’m used to seeing him in his usual black slacks, but they look good paired with the blue hoodie he’s pulled on. His appearance is throwing me off-guard. Today, he just looks so normal, everyday All-American, but there’s nothing normal or everyday about this man. He exudes the sensuality of his father’s heritage as easily as he breathes.

His eyes track down over me, and I’m made very aware of what I’m not wearing. My armor. My business clothes.

“Good morning, Gemma. I thought I would come and get you myself. It seems you’ve been avoiding me,” he greets as he steps forward, not waiting for an invitation of any kind.

Then again, this is his house. Why should he wait?

“Morning,” I mutter.

I turn and watch him move farther into my room. I tightly clutch the robe around my body, and I have to actually stop myself from laughing at my own ridiculousness. The man has seen me naked. He’s touched me naked.

“Was there something you needed?” I ask, waiting for him to face me.

When he gets to the bed, he finally turns and sits on the mattress with rumpled sheets. I don’t know why, but seeing him sitting there, looking so ordinary, I find that I’m more nervous than I was the last time I was in his studio. At least, that Phillipe, I understand. That Phillipe, I expect.

“Well, there’s plenty I need, Gemma, but I actually came down here to see if there’s anything you need.”

How is he able to zero in on the very thing I have been thinking about or wondering?

Lifting my head, I shake it and lie. It seems my best option. “Nope. Nothing,” I tell him.

His lips purse, and his eyes narrow. “Are you positive?”

No, I’m not positive, I want to yell. I have a hundred questions I want to ask you as well as a throbbing clit I want you to take care of, but I’m determined not to mention any of that.

“You slept in late again this morning,” he explains, looking at the clock.

My eyes shift to it as well, and I notice he’s right. I told him I would meet him at 9 a.m., and it is now 10:15 a.m.

“Oh, I didn’t sleep late. I was reading,” I explain.

Too late, I realize his obvious trap. I scold myself internally.

“Oh? And how’s that going?” he asks while he stands, moving toward me.

“Good,” I answer. I try to be vague, but I know he’s too intuitive.

He seems to know me too well, and he knows where I’ve read up to in the damn journal. When he stops in front of me, he reaches out a hand to stroke my hair. Standing my ground, I refuse to move away, and if I’m honest, I stay because I want him to touch me.

“It was much better than good,” he assures me.

“I don’t want to know,” I tell him. Lie number two.

Bringing his free hand up to the other side of my face, he cups my cheeks, gently tugging me forward. I drop my hold on the robe and move my hands up to grip his wrists.

“Yes, you do,” he whispers across my lips. “You always have a million questions, so ask me, Gemma. What do you want to know?”

Blinking up into his curious green eyes, I take a deep breath. I decide to take his advice, and I ask him what I want to know.

“Okay, what changed for you that morning?” Before I lose my nerve, I tack on the end, “Why were you so needy?”

His mouth tilts up on the side as he leans in to place a kiss against the corner of my mouth.

“Always asking me things I don’t expect, Gemma.”

“So, answer me,” I press. My eyes stay focused on him, even though he is now extremely close, so keeping focus is becoming difficult.

He strokes one hand down the side of my neck, lowering it into the top of my robe. He pushes it aside, and looks down at what he’s revealed. I’m wearing a sheer pastel-pink camisole and little silk boxers that match.

“You expect answers when you’re dressed like that?” he asks.

I find myself smiling slightly. I remind him, “You came to my room. Don’t try and change the topic. What made you needy that morning?”

His eyes come back up to focus on me. He drops his hands to my waist, pushing me back until I’m up against the door. Stepping in close to me, he places his palms on both sides of my head, caging me in.

“What makes any man needy, Gemma? A hot woman? Perhaps a naked one? Or maybe a woman dressed in pink silky pajamas?”

I shake my head against the door. “No. This felt different. You seemed like you wanted to prove something to her. You made her crazy.”

“I didn’t make her anything,” he says in a cold tone.

It’s so different from anything I have ever heard that I actually flinch away from him.

“What was that?” he questions me quickly.

“What was what?”

“You just flinched as though I was going to hurt you,” he tells me slowly as he lowers his hands from the door.

I watch as his face goes from smoldering and sexy to cool and detached. Instantly, I want to apologize. I want to tell him that I didn’t mean it. He can trust me, and I can trust him. I know I can trust him, don’t I?

Closely, I watch him as he slips his hands into his pockets. He takes a step away from me, now averting his eyes from my body. Sighing, I reach down and wrap my robe around myself. I want to scream and tell him that I didn’t mean it, but it’s clear he doesn’t want to talk about it.

“Can you please move away from the door?” he asks in a surly, gruff tone.

I can feel the distance already starting to spread between us. All the trust and all the moments leading up to this are gone in the blink of an eye.

“Can we talk about this for a minute? I still have questions.” I try to appeal to his professional nature.

“Get the fuck out of the way, Gemma!” he yells at me.

Instantly, I move away from the door.

When he reaches it, he grips the handle. Turning his head to me, angry green eyes lock with mine.

“Things changed that morning because I spoke to Beau. He told me her parents were coming to visit. He explained how they wanted to meet me. They didn’t trust me and didn’t trust my intentions. They were coming to visit, and I knew they wanted to take her away.” His voice sounds as though he is feeling it all over again. He sounds destroyed. “I wanted to make sure she didn’t want to leave. I needed to make sure she believed in us, trusted us. So, I made sure she wanted me just as much as I wanted her.”

“She stayed, didn’t she?” I ask quickly, knowing he’s about to leave because he’s still pissed.

“She stayed…until she left,” he replies cryptically.

Opening the door, he exits and leaves me standing in my room, wondering how the hell I can fix the trust I just broke.