Blind Obsession

Chapter Nineteen ~ Rhapsody

Day 17

Adagio for Strings ~ Samuel Barber

Link: http://blindobsessionbook.com/adagio-for-strings/

Adagio for Strings is a piece I am familiar with. I remember watching it once on a tribute to 9/11, and ever since, it has moved me. Today, it once again moves me for different reasons.

During that evening by the river, we agreed to a few days of respite before making our way back to the chateau in complete silence. Consequently, I lie in my bed, unable to sleep for the rest of the night.

Time doesn’t stand still though, and it is slowly creeping by. No matter how painful it might be, we need to move forward.

I make my way into the studio this morning to see Phillipe over by the window. That’s when I hear the weeping sounds of the violin. Stepping into the space I now ironically feel the most comfortable in, he turns, and as our eyes meet, the expression I receive is pained and tired. It’s almost the exact replica of mine.

“I want you to paint me,” I tell him as I step closer.

I’ve thought about this for the last few days. Running it through my mind, I have tried to figure out the best way to connect with him. Obviously, it isn’t by talking things out face to face, and it occurs to me that the most I have ever gotten out of him is when he’s painting me.

“Why?” he asks, shaking me from my thoughts.

As he moves closer, I notice that he’s dressed today in the usual black pants with my favorite hunter green sweater, and he looks devastating.

I find myself talking, just for something to do. “I think it gives me a better idea of who she was. This isn’t a question of me trusting you anymore. It’s to help me understand how you saw her.”

When he stops directly in front of me, I look up into his troubled eyes and beseech him, “I need to understand, Phillipe.”

Tilting his head to the side as though he’s studying me, his eyes narrow as he nods once.

“Okay, Gemma. Then, we start Rhapsody today.”

Immediately, I picture the image in my mind. I have been captivated by it since my first day here in the chateau, and it isn’t one that I am likely to ever forget. Then again, none of them are ones that I would ever lose sight of.

“This music is beautiful. Did she have a favorite?” I murmur.

He brushes by me and makes his way to the stereo, abruptly ending the melancholy piece.

“Yes, she did,” he explains, crouching down to remove the violin case. Looking over his shoulder, he reminds me softly, “You have to be naked, Gemma, so please take off your clothes.”

Swallowing my next question, I nod and start to unbutton my long-sleeved ivory blouse. Tugging it out of my pants, I keep my eyes on him as he moves to place the case on the desk.

The silence is starting to become suffocating, so I ask, “What piece was her favorite?”

His eyes rise to meet mine as he unlocks the latches of the case. I already know he isn’t going to tell me. When he looks away to pick up Diva from her resting place, I try to remind myself that he’ll tell me when he’s ready.

Removing my pants, I’m now left in my bra and panties. I reach back and unsnap my bra hooks as he walks toward me with the violin in his hand. Keeping my eyes on him, I remove the lacy fabric from my aching breasts, and as the cool air hits my skin, I feel my nipples harden. Raising my arm to the side, I drop it on the floor.

“Turn around,” he instructs.

His voice is so somber that I swear I can feel it stealing a part of me, saddening my heart. Silently, I turn away from him.

He orders quietly, “Remove your panties.”

I reach into the sides of the thin material and bend to push them down, realizing he has a perfect view of my naked ass—an ass he commented on only yesterday.

“Reach behind yourself with your left arm, Gemma.”

Slowly, I do as requested. Knowing he is going to place the violin in my hands, I’m nervous because I know how much this violin is worth, not only in the monetary sense but in the emotional one as well.

When I feel the wood, cool against my palm, I clutch it gently with one hand around the neck.

All of a sudden, his mouth is by my ear. “Very good. There’s just one more thing.”

As he walks away from me, my eyes are trained on the easel and covered piece of artwork still sitting on the opposite side of the room.

“What is that?” I ask, nodding in the direction of the easel. I wonder if he’ll tell me what he’s working on.

Instead of answering my question, he replies, “This.”

I feel the cool slide of paint on the left side of my lower back. I’m not sure if he’s intentionally avoiding my question or if he really does misunderstand me, but right now, I know he is adding F-holes to my skin. After the first one is complete, he switches to the right side, and I can feel the cool bristles of the brush as he paints the matching symbol.

“There.”

I look over my shoulder. “But there are no F-holes in this painting.”

Disturbed, clouded eyes rise to mine. “No, but there were on the model that posed for me. Now, you’re perfect.”

“But not her.”

“No, you are definitely not her.” He pauses and licks his lower lip. Nodding slightly, he instructs, “Eyes forward, Gemma.”

Silently, I do as I’m told.

Phillipe stands behind his easel and looks over to the woman once again standing in the middle of his studio, gently holding Diva across her lovely left ass cheek.

The night down by the river was painful. There is no other way to describe it. In fact, he was ready to tell Gemma that the deal is off, so she should just go home. Taking her down there and telling her only parts of the story was so emotionally crippling that he can’t imagine how he’ll ever tell her the whole sordid tale.

When she arrived in his studio this morning and he turned to see her stepping through the door, something about her pulled at him. Maybe it is the expression on her face.

Yes, she looks tired. She probably didn’t get much more sleep than he had, but the sheer determination and look of understanding in her eyes now makes him realize that if anyone can tell this story the way it needs to be told then it’s going to be Gemma Harris.

“You look lovely like this,” he told Chantel.

From the middle of her spine, he traced a finger up her back to just below her hairline. As she dropped her head forward, he smiled slowly to himself as she let out a long sigh.

“You’ve been standing here for a little over an hour.” Reaching out, he squeezed her shoulders, massaging away some of the tension from them. “Maybe we should break.”

Chantel turned, and he connected with gray eyes that saw nothing, but that didn’t stop a sensuous smile from touching her lips.

“Maybe we should.”

Reaching for her left hand, he took the violin that had been covering her round bottom.

“Let me have this.”

He leaned to the side, placing it in the case lying open on the small empty desk, and then he was back. She still had her back to him, and her head was now tipped forward, leaving her elegant neck bare. Moving in close behind her naked body, he wrapped his arms around her waist and laid his lips at the top of her spine.

“Let me relax you.”

In response, Chantel let out a deep breath. “Yes.”

As he stands there now, looking at Gemma waiting before him nude and in pose, he wonders what she is thinking about while he focuses on someone else.

“What made you decide to paint her this way? Why did you name it Rhapsody?”

Well, there’s his answer. Ever the professional, Gemma’s always thinking of new things to ask him.

“Rhapsody,” he repeats, taking a minute to mull over the word. “Well, the definition I always liked for it is an ecstatic expression of feeling or enthusiasm.”

There’s complete silence while he runs the brush over the canvas.

“But the picture seems so still,” she mutters, more to herself than as a response to Phillipe.

“Yes, it does. Doesn’t it? It was what came after the painting was captured that inspired the name.”

Biting the gentle curve of her neck, he cupped her breasts and squeezed while she pushed her back against his chest. A piece she had recorded for him just the other day, Adagio for Strings, was playing. It was his favorite.

“Hmm, your breasts are the perfect size for my palms.”

She raised her hands to place them over his.

“Show me,” she moaned, entwining their fingers.

He nipped her neck and kissed her just below her ear before he started to move his right hand. Slowly, he slid their palms down her body.

“You have perfect breasts with smooth skin like satin. I could touch you all day and never grow tired of it.”

Their fingers traced her ribs and moved down over the gentle curve of her abdomen where he dipped his finger, flirting with the small indentation. Her breathing became more rapid as he gently squeezed her left breast.

“Show me where you want my hand,” he demanded, his voice dipping low. He was finding it difficult to even think. All the blood left in his brain was now making a speedy descent to his rapidly rising cock.

God, all she had to do was be in the room with him, and he became insane with lust. It was rare that they could be anywhere for less than thirty minutes before he’d have her stripped, naked, and beneath him. He’d decided that was exactly the way he liked her—screaming his name.

“Down here,” she sighed, directing his hand to her warm mound where she pulled his fingers between her thighs.

At the first feeling of moisture on his fingertips, he groaned in her ear and pressed his steel-hard erection against her naked ass.

“Take your clothes off, Phillipe,” she requested. “I want to feel your skin on mine.”

Releasing her hands, he stepped back, making quick work of removing his clothes, before he moved back. Standing so close to her, his cock immediately wedged itself into her enticing ass crack. Grinding against her, he wrapped his arms around her waist. With his left hand cupping her breast again, his right hand took hers and pulled it back down between her deliciously juicy thighs.

“Now, where were we? Here?” he asked.

He ran their index fingers through her soaked folds. Her head fell back on his shoulder as she widened her stance for him.

“Yes.” She sighed.

“Feel good?”

She moaned a little louder while he moved their fingers to play with her hard little clit. “Yes.”

“It’s so ripe and swollen, like a plump little berry.” He exhaled, letting out a deep breath. “I want to devour it before I push my tongue deep inside of you.”

Her eyes opened as she turned her head in his direction. As her mouth parted, a ragged breath escaping, he locked his eyes with hers even though he knew she saw nothing.

During moments just like this, he almost believed she saw everything, and that was when she told him something that almost brought him to his knees.

“I want your mouth wherever you want to put it.”

Taking her lips in a fierce kiss, Phillipe turned her in his arms and lifted her up against his hard thick shaft. Her legs wrapped around his waist as he walked over to the mattress under the window. Mouths still fused together, he stopped when his toes touched the base of their makeshift bed. Her tongue was twisting and flirting with his. Every time she pushed it deeper, she gripped his shoulders and pulled herself closer, rubbing her wet core against his cock.

His hands cupped her ass and tugged her closer. First putting a knee on the mattress, he slowly lowered them to the bed. Following her down, he never released her mouth from the hot tempestuous kiss she had him engaged in. When he was firmly pressed against her, he couldn’t help the drive to thrust into her. He flexed his hips, using the force to push into her hard, and then he pulled out of her, dragging his cock against her mound.

Finally, she leaned back from the kiss, licking her top lip. “Come up here.”

Looking down at her, he grinned, touching her lips with a finger. “I am up here.”

She shook her head against the pillow. With both hands, she reached down between their bodies and fisted his cock.

“This. Bring this up here and then come.”

He groaned and thrust into her tight grip. He leaned down and kissed her mouth only to feel her bite his lip.

“I want you to come in my mouth. I want to taste you.”

“Christ, Chantel.” He cursed. “Are you sure?”

A sinful smile appeared as she reached up to his face, bringing him back to her. When his mouth was against hers, she told him, “Yes, I want to taste you on my tongue as you slide inside my soul.”

Grunting low, he closed his eyes and moved away from her. As she released his throbbing hardness, he straddled her waist.

Gruffly, he instructed, “Scoot down the bed.”

As she followed his command, her breasts swayed. Leaning down, he couldn’t help himself from taking one of her ripe nipples between his lips. She reached out, clasping his head, as she arched up into his mouth. He bit the hard little tip before progressing to her upper body. Gently, he tapped her lips with the wet tip of his cock.

“Open your mouth, Beauty.”

Without question, she obeyed, and he slid deep between her warm, wet lips.

“Fucking hell.” He cursed as he shifted.

Putting his fists down onto the mattress to brace himself, he raised his hips. He lifted himself up on shaky arms as he slowly brought his hips back down to push farther into her mouth. Closing his eyes, he tried to imagine how she was feeling.

With his cock plunging between her lips, he could hear her breathing in and out through her nose. Her talented fingers were on his hips and ass as she pulled him closer, taking him deeper down her throat until her nose was against his skin. He could feel her breath tickling around him with each inhale and exhale.

“That’s it, Chantel. Suck me deep.” He growled as he slowly pulled away from her deep-throated squeeze. “That’s a fucking pretty sight.” He grunted while he looked down his body, watching when the tip of his cock slid out of her mouth as she leaned her head back.

Through aroused, unseeing eyes, she pulled his hips back toward her. She pleaded, “More.”

When she took him in once again, her left hand moved to the crack of his ass. He closed his eyes as he tried to control himself. As she sucked vigorously on his engorged flesh, erotic noises started to fill the room and his head. There was nothing he could do to stop his hips from picking up pace. As her finger now skirted along the sensitive skin of his ass, his hands white-knuckled the sheets, and his knees sank into the mattress.

Shaking his head and trying to hang on to some semblance of control, he groaned loudly as her finger dragged down his ass to his tight balls where she tickled over the sensitive skin.

Biting his bottom lip, he started to fuck her mouth in earnest now.

As much as he wanted this to be gentle and sweet, she was tapping into a part of him that he couldn’t control. Closing his eyes, he could feel the climax skating along his spine, knocking for release.

“Fuck! Yes! Harder!” he roared, not really having a clue what he wanted harder. Her mouth? Her fingers? Or to get even farther down her amazing fucking throat?

Somehow, she knew. Right as the climax was about to slam into him, she slid a finger past his tight ring into his ass while she clamped her lips around his cock. He shouted her name as he came so hard that he thought he would pass out from the sheer force of ecstasy.

“Jesus Christ, Chantel.” He sent up a prayer and slowly slipped out of her mouth as he slid his body down hers. When he was in line with her mouth, he took it in a kiss so erotic and decadent that he thought he might come a second time just from tasting himself on her mouth, lips, and tongue.

She smelled and tasted like him. Now, as she arched her hips toward him, he knew he wanted to return the favor.

Pulling back, he whispered, “That was the most religious fucking experience I have ever had and I will never listen to this piece, what’s it called again?”

“Adagio for Strings.” She informed on a sigh.

“I will never be able to listen to this piece without thinking of you, right at this very moment.”

She smiled and laughed softly before curving her back. She was aching, and he needed to tend to her.

“Do you need me, Chantel? Do you want to see heaven?”

Closing her eyes, she nodded and widened her legs. Phillipe scooted off the edge of the mattress to kneel on the floor between her spread thighs. Damn, she’s soaked. Her thighs were glistening from her excitement. He reached out and ran his finger through it, bringing it to his mouth for a taste.

“You’re aching. Aren’t you, Chantel? Did having me in your mouth turn you on?”

Leaning forward, he took a deep breath, inhaling her sweet and spicy arousal. “I think it did because your pussy is so wet that it’s dripping all over your thighs.”

Turning his head, he placed a kiss on her knee. He heard her whimper as he flattened his tongue to lick and kiss his way up her left thigh. When he reached her lush, wet center, he leaned in so close that his nose bumped her clit. Taking one of her pouty lips between his own, he sucked on it, savoring her delicious juices. When her taste hit his tongue, it went straight to his cock, which was making it rise and harden again.

“Put your legs over my shoulders, Chantel.”

Although languid in movement, she obeyed immediately. With her heels brushing against his back, he gripped her ass and tugged her right to the edge of the pillow-top mattress.

“I want to taste you now while you slide over my tongue and come for me.”

He lapped at her sopping wet cunt. She raised her hips and reached down, gripping his hair in her hands, as he licked and sucked on her sensitive flesh.

“Phillipe.” She moaned.

He stiffened his agile tongue and held her in place as he started to tongue fuck her toward her orgasm. He knew it wouldn’t take long. He brought his finger to where his mouth was busy devouring her sweet pussy, lubricating it with her own sweet juices. Mimicking her movements that took him to the edge, he moved the wet digit down to the tight little virgin hole that was currently spread apart in this position.

“Hmm.Yes, Chantel.” He hummed against her aching sex. “You’re a naughty little tease, pushing your finger into my ass earlier. Was that a hint, Chantel?”

Shaking her head back and forth, she lifted her hips, trying to get his mouth back into action.

“No?” he questioned. He pressed the tip of his finger on her hot little rosette.

“No, I just wanted to—” She panted.

“You wanted to get up my ass?” he asked as he licked her hot center again.

“Phillipe!” she screamed.

“Ahh, there’s the ecstatic enthusiasm. Hmm, pure rhapsody.”

Suddenly, her knees tightened around his ears, and her hips bucked up as he sucked her clit hard between his lips while pushing his finger deep into her tight, hot ass. She screamed his name so loudly as she came that his ears were actually ringing.

As the somber violins continued to play well after the ringing had subsided, Philippe knew exactly what he was going to call this painting of her—Rhapsody.

“Are we done then?” I ask, looking at Phillipe over my shoulder.

It has been at least an hour since I have been standing here naked and somewhat cold. It has been dead silent for at least half of it. I decided to leave it that way because it seemed he just needed some space today.

“Yes, we can be done, Gemma. Is your shoulder bothering you?”

He seems far away and distant. I know he’s thinking of her.

“No, it isn’t. I’m just a little cold.”

His eyes come up from the canvas, and as he looks over at me, he nods. I see a look in his eyes that, under any other circumstances, I would think is arousal, but I know that look is not for me. That realization makes me feel more than naked. I feel vulnerable.

Slowly, I bring the violin to my front, and I move to the case, placing the instrument gently on the red silk. He says nothing as I go through the motions of putting on my clothes, item by item. Although he’s here, I know he has left the room somehow. He’s not with me.

Moving toward the door, I stop before I leave. “Do you mind if I go downstairs tonight to look at the paintings?”

I don’t really know what to expect, but he nods once.

Looking over to me, he quietly says, “While you’re here, Gemma, you can go wherever you like.”

I give him my thanks and turn to leave the studio. Making my way down the main curved staircase, I stop to look at the painting hanging on the wall. Rhapsody depicts the very replica of the pose I was in only moments earlier.

This time, I don’t hesitate to reach out and stroke the curve of her right cheek. I trace my fingers over the F-holes in the violin, the same pattern that is now dry paint on my skin. She really was beautiful with her otherworldly flawless skin. It is easy for me to see the appeal.

Shaking my head, I make my way down into the kitchen. As I stand at the window, staring out on the vineyards, I can hear Phillipe’s voice playing over in my mind.

While you are here, Gemma, you can go wherever you like.

Yes, I can go anywhere, just not into his heart.