We both groaned at the sensation. There was some pain but it only contrasted the pleasure, heightening it. Sinclair took my hips in his hands and tilted my pelvis, hitting a new angle inside me that made my legs tremble. Somehow, I was already close to an orgasm.
Seamlessly, Sinclair rolled me onto my back, spreading my legs open with his palms on my inner thighs, his thumbs teasing me where we were joined together. He was watching himself plunge in and out of my slick depths, his eyes glazed with arousal and two streaks of pink slashed high on his cheekbones. I had never seen anything more attractive.
I shuddered when he picked up the pace and one thumb found my clit. He circled it firmly, pushing me into a sudden and intense climax that wracked my entire body. I cried out long and low, repeating his name like a chant. I was still out of it when he tilted my hips and began to plow into me, scraping against the sweet spot deep inside me with each thrust as if he was desperate to claim all of me. His features were warped with pleasure and the sight of him lost in rapture, knowing that I was capable of making him loose control, made me dizzy.
“Elle,” he groaned, bottoming out inside me and burrowing his face in my neck as he came.
Afterwards, we lay in the sand. His body was too hot and heavy on top of mine but when he tried to move, I whimpered in protest and linked my legs with his. I could feel him smile into my shoulder and when he raised himself onto his forearms I was rewarded with the sight of his smug satisfaction.
“Now, did that seem very controlled to you?” he asked, playfully tweaking my nipple.
I scrunched up my nose. “No. In fact, that was almost barbaric.”
He laughed and licked a bead of sweat between my breasts, smacking his lips. “I told you, the taste of you is intoxicating.”
“Mmm.” I tightened my inner muscles against his softening length, watching his mouth open and his eyes unfocus slightly. “As is this.”
When he began to harden again inside me, it was my turn to gasp. “You’re insatiable!”
He nodded solemnly. “I only have two days left to enjoy this body, you better bet I’m going to take advantage of it.”
I closed my eyes against the dual sensation of panic and desire that bloomed in my chest when he dipped his head to take my nipple in his hot, sucking mouth.
Two days. Only two more days with him.
Chapter Twelve.
I sat on the deck of Sinclair’s expansive resort suite, wrapped up in an overlarge fluffy white robe with my feet tucked up underneath me and my freshly washed hair curling dry in the light breeze off the ocean when Sinclair’s phone rang. We had been suspended in the kind of natural silence that usually takes years to form, only occasionally breaking from his work and my painting to smile like fools at each other.
The entire day had taken on a slightly hazy, almost dream-like nature. After taking me again on the shore, we swam back to the boat and returned to the resort. He had spoken on the phone while we crossed the grounds to his room but he caught my hand in his, tucking his fingers into mine so that I wouldn’t feel ignored. I blushed when heads turned to watch us, their eyes lingering on Sinclair with varying degrees of lust and envy. He squeezed my hand when he caught my wide eyed stare roving over the hall and the side of his firm mouth twitched in a private smile just for me.
After a quick shower where we mostly refrained from inappropriate touches, he lead me to the patio without hesitation, swinging open the French doors to reveal an large wooden easel laden with a fresh canvas and the basic tools of my trade. When I had turned to him, my mouth slack with surprise, he shrugged and suggested that because he had to work, it was only prudent that I had something to occupy myself with too.
Now, I sat before the canvas with a soft lead pencil and a nearly completed outline of the Frenchman sitting across from me. It was a three quarter profile to showcase the strong cut of his jaw and the slashing lines of his high cheekbones. I hadn’t even brought his face to life with color or depth but I could feel the intensity of his eyes, the texture of his twitching lips as they struggled to hold back a smile under my fingers as I feathered them over the canvas. There was a gaping space to the side of his slightly parted lips where I knew a woman’s face would appear, head tilted at a desperate angle, mouth open beautifully but tired like the fading bloom of a rose, unfurled and red. I closed my eyes to imagine the heat in her gaze, her flaming sexual intent. Though he appeared to be the aggressor, dark and overwhelming in blacks and shadows it was she, this woman on the very precipice of desire, who brought the passion into focus.
The sharp trill of the phone cut through my imagination and for a moment, I wasn’t sure where the noise was coming from. Sinclair frowned at the cell phone vibrating on the table beside him, the white light from his computer screen casting his features in stark relief.
I knew immediately who it was when he looked up at me with compressed lips.
I tried to shrug casually as I returned to my work. “You should get that.”
His eyes were hot on the side of my face. “I’ll leave.”
“No. I don’t mind if you stay.” I turned to look at him even though I was worried he would see the sadness in my eyes.
He looked hard at me before nodding curtly and sweeping across the touch screen to answer the call.
“Darling,” he answered.
My lips twisted involuntarily. Darling? That didn’t seem like a pet name Sinclair would use. But I guess it suited his buttoned up personality.
“The four thirty,” he confirmed. “I understand, I’ll catch a cab in… No, it’s important that you are at the party when she gets there and I really don’t care.” He paused and I snuck a look at him. He tugged at a longish lock of hair, a nervous gesture that made him seem vulnerable and when his eyes met mine they were foggy with confusion and strain.
I stood up, aware that my movement towards the door made Sinclair tense up.
When I returned to the deck a few minutes later, he was still speaking with her. His head snapped up and I could tell he wanted me to look over at him but I reclaimed my seat with a calm expression and took up my palate, swirling a cerulean blue with a dab of bright chartreuse in attempt to replicate the electricity of Sinclair’s blue eyes.
“I’m looking forward to meeting her,” Sinclair was saying, his voice cool and modulated. “I know it will be hard on you but seeing your family happy will more than make up for it… Yes, I know. You’d be surprised by how resilient family ties are to the passing of time.”