Becoming His Muse, Complete Set (27 page)

“Casey will give you one in class tomorrow. Oh, and you mustn’t breath a word to anyone about our art project.”

“Of course not.”

He hangs up without saying goodbye.

The oddness of my exchange with Derrick evaporates as soon as I think about a whole night alone with Logan. I text him to tell him the plan and then I go meet Ruby for lunch at the cafeteria.

“How was your aunt?” I ask her.

“Still pretty ill but happy to have visitors. My uncle over-cooked the turkey but I made a splendid pumpkin pie. How did the bomb drop go with your parents?”

I frown. “Never got around to it.”

Ruby rolls her eyes. “Maybe you should just send them a postcard after you get there.”

“I’ll tell them at Christmas. It’s just a few weeks away.”

“They’ll love that. Merry Christmas, Mom and Dad. I’m breaking the family covenant and running off to join the circus.”

“New York is not the circus.”

“To some it is.”

“I don’t know how I’ll manage it without their support.”

“If you win that art award you’ll be set.”

“Maybe… Are you still seeing Dale?” I say, purposefully changing the subject.

Ruby scrunches up her nose. “He was fun, but you know what? Over the holidays, I really missed Jonathan.” She sighs.

“Seriously?”

She nods and says, “Hearts are such fickle contraptions.”

Fickle or not, I don’t have the heart to tell her I saw Jonathan walking across the quad with Laura earlier today.

“Tell him how you feel before it’s too late,” I say.

“Too late for what?”

I shrug. “Just tell him, if that’s really how you feel.”

She sighs again. “I honestly don’t know how I feel.”

“At least tell him that.”

Then I tell Ruby about Logan’s invitation to go to New York after exams. She is ecstatic for me and promises not to breathe a word to anyone.

“What if you don’t come back?” she says, leaning over her half-finished plate of spaghetti.

I laugh. “Of course, I’ll be back. I have to graduate, and there’s the show, and opening night. This trip will be a little taste test, and the inspiration I need to convince my parents.”

Ruby’s eyes kind of glaze over and she grabs my arm, whispering intensely, “What if…? What if you end up moving to New York and living with Logan O’Shane and he gets even more famous with this new book he’s writing and
you’re
in the book and
I’m
your friend and I’ll come visit you two in New York and we’ll go to readings and plays and fancy restaurants and—”

“—Ruby! You’re getting carried away.” Chuckling, I shake my head. “You and your imagination. Use it for
your writing
.”

She narrows her eyes and gives me a mischievous smile. “Hmmm… Maybe I will. Maybe I’ll write a story about you two…”

“You promised you wouldn’t tell a soul, remember?” I glance around the cafeteria double-checking that no one’s listening to us.

“But
after
you graduate, after you’re a famous painter and you two are a couple and you have kids and—”

“—Ruby stop!” I’m full on laughing now, but I do feel a giddy excitement deep in my belly. I
like
where her imagination is taking her. But how do I get myself there?…

At Dr. T’s next lecture, Casey gives me a key with sparkly bike handle tassel attached to it.

“You can keep that one for a few weeks,” she says.

“Thanks.” I tuck it into my back pack for safekeeping.

On Thursday, I send Logan the address to Derrick and Casey’s loft on Thurlow and tell him to meet me when he’s finished teaching. I decide to skip Thursday’s classes and do some painting at the loft during the day, which means I can sleep in, since I don’t have to compete for early studio time. I carry over a canvas and my paint box, plus a small overnight bag. I pick up some milk and coffee and things for breakfast plus a frozen pizza to bake later. We will not be leaving this place until we absolutely have to.

The loft is above a printing shop. An iron gate to the left of the shop blocks access to a narrow flight of wooden stairs. I try the first key. Once up the stairs, I find a metal door painted with graffiti. I’m pretty sure that’s Derrick’s work. He’s a fan of graffiti art. I try the second key.

When I open the door, I’m engulfed by the scent of sandalwood and vanilla. The light inside is murky and tinged crimson, the effect of several gauzy red curtains over the large windows. The floors are beat up old planks except for a square of linoleum marking the kitchen area, which does not look very clean. It’s when I look up that I nearly have a heart attack.

Suspended from the ceiling beams are dozens of puppets, about half of life-sized. Some are unfinished, but there must be more than thirty of them. They are dressed in vintage clothing cut down to size. Are they part of DnC’s secret art project? Very strange.

I carry my supplies inside. The place feels a little creepy. There’s a puppet-free corner with an easel and table set up. And off to one side, not far from the easel, is a low bed heaped with colorful silk pillows. Thankfully, the puppets are segregated from the bed by partially painted white sheets. The sheets are splattered with graffiti markings and calligraphy squiggles. Maybe they’re part of the art project too? I shake my head, having no idea what these two are up to, but grateful, at least, to have a private space to work for one day.

Shelves line almost every wall. Each shelf is crammed with books, papers, electronic equipment, art supplies, and all manner of quirky paraphernalia. Plus a large terrarium. To say the place feels cluttered is an understatement. I’d be tempted to call DnC hoarders, except that most of the stuff stashed could be used for their unusual art installations.

I clear off part of the kitchen table and put away the food I brought.

At least the bed looks clean, though I’m glad I brought my own set of sheets and pillow cases.

I set up my paints and canvas. Before I get to work, I have a closer look at the variety of puppets. They have large heads, hands, and feet. A few have those sparkly bike tassels, like the one on the key ring, for hair. None of the puppets has eyes, which, oddly, makes me feel a little more comfortable.

I’m making good progress on my painting when my phone buzzes. Logan is downstairs. I quickly strip off my clothes down to my bra and panties and slip into the black silk robe I packed for just this occasion. Then I change my mind and take off the bra and panties as well. Tying the robe’s sash around my waist, I step outside.

I let Logan through the gate and into the stairwell. He’s holding a bottle of wine and a bouquet of flowers. How sweet. He growls his approval when he sees my silky black robe.

“What’s under there?” he says.

“
Nothing
…” I dash back up the stairs before he can catch me. As I push through the metal door, I warn him. “The place is a little strange. Ignore the puppets.”

“Puppets?”

“And the turtles.”

He steps cautiously into the the loft.

“Goddamn…”

“I know, weird, right?”

He’s transfixed. “Where are their eyes?”

I shrug. “It’s better if you don’t look up.”

He puts the wine on the table and looks around the rest of the place. I search around for a vase for the flowers.

“Nice work, Ava,” he says heading toward my half-finished canvas.

“I got a lot done today. Enough so that now I can
play
.”

He looks over his shoulder at me and arches an eyebrow. “Any special game you had in mind?”

I slink over to him.

“Yes. Strip poke-her. I strip and you poke me.”

I knock his hat off his head and he catches it. He glances at the low bed, which I’ve draped with my sheets.

“What are the stakes?”

“You have to risk it
all
.” I untie my robe and show him I’m stripped already. His breath catches as he looks me up and down.

I take a step toward him and whisper, “So far, I’m winning.”

He reaches for my breasts, cups them gently. I push his jacket off and then grab him by the belt buckle and pull him toward the bed.

“I’ve been waiting all day for this,” I say.

“I’ve been waiting all week.” He kicks off his shoes. “Lie down,” he says. “Against those pillows. I want to look at you.”

I oblige, positioning myself gracefully and seductively across several pillows. My robe is open and sliding off my shoulders but not off completely.

“Touch yourself,” he says as he removes his shirt and unbuckles his belt.

I lick my fingers first and then trail them along my chest and down to my belly button. Then lower.

“Here?” I say, sliding my fingers across my mons.

“Yes, there.” He slips out of his pants, touches himself through his boxers.

“Show me,”I say. “I want to see it.” He pulls the edge of his boxers down so I can only see the tip. My mouth starts watering immediately.

I slide my fingers along my slick labia, opening wider for him to see.

“Do you want to watch me again?”

He nods.

“Do you want to spank me again?”

He gives me a devilish smile and nods a second time.

“Everything we’ve done before. And more.”

I don’t know what he means by more but I have a feeling I’m going to find out.

He finally drops his boxers and climbs onto the bed with me. He parts my knees and stares at my open legs.

“Have you ever experienced anal, Ava?”

My legs involuntarily start to close and my eyes widen. “I don’t think…”

He smiles and nudges my legs apart again. “Don’t worry, we won’t do anything you don’t want to do.”

No, I don’t want that, but at the same time I
do
want to experience
everything
with Logan.

“Not yet?” I say.

He nods. “Only when, or if, you’re ready. It’s the ultimate submission.”

I gulp, feeling very nervous. “Does that turn you on?”

He swipes his fingers against my folds and his thumb gently alights on my clit. I shudder.

“Everything about you turns me on. That would, too. But it’s not necessary.”

I’m relieved.

He lets his fingers dance with mine between my legs and then I let him take over completely. A moment later I feel his lips on me, and then his probing tongue. I gasp with pleasure. It’s a matter of minutes before I’m dangling at the edge of orgasm and my breath is ragged and punctuated with moans. He stops abruptly and climbs over me, pointing his cock at my lips. I extend my tongue to taste his tip. He moans lightly.

“I find it deeply pleasurable to enter your body any way you let me. Here…” His cock dips past my lips. “And here…” He reaches behind him and slides a finger into my drenched pussy. “And maybe one day, here…” His finger slides past my opening and across my perineum. With a light pressure he swirls his finger around my anus. It tickles a bit. I hold my breath, but he doesn’t do anything more. Thank goodness, I’m not ready for that, though I do feel just a teeny bit curious.

I push him more deeply into my mouth and suck intently so that he’s caught up in his own pleasure. I fondle his balls with one hand and hold the base of his cock with the other, but a minute later he pulls away abruptly. Did I do something wrong? He’s flipping himself around. He kneels over me again, but faces the other way now. I gasp when he buries his face in my pussy. His lips suck at my clit and I feel his nose brush my opening. I grab his cock with both hands as his balls slide against my chin. I handle him roughly, like a gear shift, while his tongue slides from my clit to my perineum. I feel his hands on my ass, opening me even wider. His hips move over me, pushing his cock through my gripping fingers. My juices and his saliva trickle between my legs and onto the sheet. I’m wet everywhere. I pull on him, urging him back a bit so I can get him in my mouth again, but he resists and I feel his tongue flex and probe my opening. I moan deeply. He pushes in an inch or so and it makes me want to feel more of him, makes me ache for his cock deep inside me.

“Get a condom,” I whisper. He ignores me and slips two fingers inside, which satisfies me for several minutes. His tongue roves around along each crease where my thigh meets my pelvis. I’m basking in the many sensations when I feel a surprising new one: a soft warm flick of tongue at my anus. It tickles, but in a pleasurable way. I giggle and draw in quick breaths, unsure of where this is headed. He removes his fingers and drags their slippery wetness lower until he’s swirling around this tight, off-limits opening. I moan again, but it’s with hesitation, and I try to wriggle away. It feels almost too personal, and I feel a hint of fear stir inside me, and yet I’m so aroused, and that arousal makes me feel bold and daring. I’m not sure if Logan senses my ambivalence, but after playing there a bit, he withdraws and laps at my clit again. His contact there seems to set off a spark inside me. My hips buck with renewed vigor, as if his short detour has amplified the sensation at my center. I’m on the brink of an explosive orgasm. I push up into his face, concentrating on this building blaze between my legs. He sucks ravenously and then just as I’m about to let go into my heaven-on-earth moment he pulls away. I gasp sharply. He swings off of me and off the bed in a flash and I’m left vibrating at the edge of oblivion and gasping for release.