Элла Франк - Blind Obsession

“Now, listen to her. Listen to the passion in each movement of her bow as she strokes it across the strings.”

I listen as each note and chord is played with more passion the further into the piece it goes. His hand tugs on my hair, and I open my eyes to look up into his fiery green ones.

“Now, Gemma, put your lips around me and suck me as eagerly as she once did.”

Moisture floods my pussy at the thought of her mouth wrapped around the flesh I’m about to suck. Opening my mouth, I gently slide him between my lips against my tongue. His hand tightens in my hair as the music pulsates and pounds through my ears, and his hips flex as his shaft starts to fuck my mouth hard.

I brace myself with my palms on the bench, but as he tugs my hair, the pain bites into me. I lose balance and shift forward a little, causing his cock to slide all the way to the back of my throat. He grunts and pulls out as I cough a little in reflex, but before I can say anything, my mouth is full again, and the piece has started over.

He’s slowed his hips down and is sliding his shaft back and forth between my swollen lips. As I raise my eyes to his tortured ones, his hips pick up movement as the music does.

He imparts darkly, “You’re the complete opposite of her, but you’re so fucking stunning in your own way, just like she was, Gemma. Your lips…your lips are pink though where hers were red.

I listen as he becomes a victim of his own seduction, and I watch as he closes his eyes on a groan, stilling his body and hips. I mold the lips he’s describing around him and take as much of him as I can inside my hot mouth.

Both of his hands come up to hold the sides of my head as he starts again, and this time, I’m ready as he pushes into my mouth like he’ll never have another chance.

Furiously, he tries to find release, but as I have seen once before, he can’t.

Pulling away from me, he curses loudly over the tragic music and tells me harshly, “Don’t move.”

My arms are trembling as they continue supporting me, and my legs feel as though they are about to collapse as the piano starts over, Lux Aeterna beginning once again.

He moves behind me, and his hands slide around the waist of my pants, undoing the buttons and zipper. He tears them apart, pulling my pants along with my panties down my hips. My naked ass and achingly aroused pussy are now on display to him.

His hands grip my hips, and without so much as a warning, his cock thrusts hard inside of me, pounding into me from behind.

“This is the sweetest fucking torture.” He groans, sinking into my soaking core.

I shift my feet to get a sturdier stance, and using my hands for leverage, I push myself back against him.

“That’s it, Gemma. Fuck me,” he demands, moving against me with one solid thrust after the other.

I feel a finger tracing the crack of my ass. He dips it down to where his cock is furiously fucking me and swirls it around my juices before bringing it back to trace my rim with his lubed fingertip.

“Oh god.” I moan as the tip of his finger pushes against my tight rear hole.

“She liked this, Gemma. She loved when I pushed my finger inside of her here.”

I feel his finger slip past the tight ring, but there’s no discomfort because my body is wound up from his insistent pounding.

As he thrusts deep one final time, pushing his finger all the way into me, he tells me darkly, “And she loved it even more when I fucked her here.”

That’s all it takes for me to scream, and true to what he said earlier, the name that leaves my mouth is hers.

Fear ~

Today, I discovered that Phillipe was hiding something from me. It was funny how you could be close to someone and not sense something so very obvious.

Over the last couple of months, I had posed, and Phillipe had painted. When we first had started out, he had told me that he wanted to touch the world and share beauty and emotion with it. Now, he seemed to be keeping the paintings close, keeping me close, and I wanted to know what was holding him back.

I couldn’t help but wonder if it was fear of the critics or fear of the unknown. Either way, I was determined to make him see what I knew the rest of the world would see. I’d found him down in the arbor this afternoon, and I’d finally gotten to the bottom of things.

“How long have you been out here?” I asked as my cane hit the bench.

“An hour or so,” he replied.

I could tell he’d stopped whatever it was he was doing.

“Are you finishing up Acquiesce?”

I could hear the crunch of the gravel as he moved, and then his large hand took mine, entwining our fingers.

“Yes, I just finished it now. I was trying to get the background just right.”

Nodding, I smiled, knowing what a perfectionist he really was, before I decided to just ask him what was on my mind. “When are you going to take the pieces to that little gallery we talked about?”

His fingers squeezed mine, as he released my hand. I felt him turn and walk away from me.

“Phillipe?” I queried quietly. Something was definitely bothering him, and I wanted to know what it was. “Talk to me. Why don’t you want to go to town? That’s all you’ve talked about since we first started.”

As the silence stretched between us, I moved to the bench, sitting down. “Will you tell me what’s going on, please? Why won’t you call the gallery owner?”

“I don’t think I want to anymore,” he mumbled.

My mouth dropped open in shock. “What do you mean you don’t want to? That’s all you’ve ever wanted.” I paused, trying to work out what might have changed his mind. “Is it me? Do you want a different model? I won’t be offended.”

Before I knew it, I felt him sit beside me, taking my hands.

“Are you crazy, Chantel? No,” he answered, bringing my knuckles up to his lips.

“Then what?” I questioned, taking my hand and running it up through his hair. “Tell me.”

He turned his face so his lips touched the center of my palm. “I’m scared,” he confessed.

 My heart clenched as I tried to understand this complex man I was hopelessly in love with. “Of what?”

“The world.”

Laughing a little, I shook my head. “That doesn’t make sense. Only months ago, you wanted to conquer it.”

There was silence for a moment, and I could hear his breathing. One steady breath in, and one long breath out. “Months ago, I had nothing to lose.”

I blinked as I continued to thread my fingers through his hair, luxuriating in the thickness of it. “And now you do?”

“Yes,” he told me as she leaned forward, laying his lips on mine. “Now, I have you.”

“Yes, you do. I’m not going anywhere.” I gripped his hair, tugging on it. I felt him relax as he let me pull his head up. “Is that what you’re worried about? That I’m going to go somewhere?”

I felt a brush of air as his fingers came forward to touch my cheek.

“Where would I go, you crazy man?” I asked him before I promised. “I will only be as far as your heart lets me go.”

With his hands cupping my cheeks, he moved in and whispered against my mouth, “They won’t understand.”

“Who won’t?”

“The world, your parents—they won’t understand what I see when I look at you, how I feel when you play, or the way that I love all of the simple things that makes you whole.” He continued to confess almost desperately, “Some might even say it’s wrong.”

Turning my body to face where I knew he was seated, I told him, “I don’t care about everyone else. I care about you, and I care about me. Do you feel like this is wrong?”

“No,” he replied, letting out a deep breath.

Reaching up, I stroked the shell of his ear. “Then, that’s all that matters. Share this with the world. They need to see it. They need to see me as you do.”

Phillipe Tibideau had one fear, and I planned to help him conquer it by never leaving.

As I sit here on a soft chair that Phillipe moved into the corner of the music room, I look at him over the journal I’m now reading. It has been a little over two hours since we’ve been down here.

After the soul-destroying way he took me earlier, I’m finding it hard to concentrate on anything other than the man who is sitting directly across from me as he sketches my portrait.

At first, I rejected the idea because I wasn’t sure if I was ready to be studied so closely, especially after having him inside my body so intimately.

Who knows what he would see on my face?

His voice intrudes into my thoughts. “What did you just read? You look...pensive.”

Lowering my eyes to the page again, I read the last line to him. “Share this with the world. They need to see it. They need to see me as you do.”

I raise my eyes back to his to see that he has stopped sketching. His thoughtful gaze comes up to meet mine. Frowning, I decide to just ask him what I want to know.

“Do you think they did?”

He answers my question with one of his own. “Do I think they did what?”

“You’re doing it again,” I point out, lowering the journal.

“What can I say? I don’t like journalists, but this you already know.” He blows out a breath and raises a hand to run it through his hair.