Total pages in book: 247
Estimated words: 231436 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1157(@200wpm)___ 926(@250wpm)___ 771(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 231436 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1157(@200wpm)___ 926(@250wpm)___ 771(@300wpm)
Even now, as I write, I remember the feelings coursing through my body. The sense of excitement. The wanton rush of things not yet experienced that I, as a Seer, knew would be memorable.
When I knocked on the door and heard footfalls from within, the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end, and goose bumps peppered my arms. While the chill may have played a part, it was more the exhilaration of what I simply knew would be, combined with the mystery of what I had not yet seen.
As the viewing panel in the door slid to the side, revealing an ice-blue eye surrounded by dark smoky topaz skin, that excitement grew.
In a voice like bells in a cavern, both delicate and resonant, she asked if she could help me.
Already feeling a pull to this gorgeous creature from just the sound of her voice and the view of that glacial eye, I gave her my name and explained how I had learned about them and then subsequently found them.
And then…she smiled. It was like the sun coming out on the dreariest of days and immediately warmed me. It also made me want.
When she opened the door, I beheld more than an eye and a smile in a nearly perfect face. She was like a goddess—and I would know—with curves in all the right places, dips and valleys creating a road map that anyone would want to explore, and hair the color of rich, deep autumn leaves—a deep, burnished brown.
She told me her name was Beryn Moxley and introduced me to her husband, Vanian. The man was at least six and a half feet tall with broad shoulders and powerful thighs. In contrast to his wife’s dark tresses, his hair was a burnished gold, a lock falling across his forehead to partially obscure one flashing gold eye. What struck me the most, however, were his hands. In contrast to his powerful almost warrior-like physique, his hands were almost graceful. The only thing marring their perfection were the splotches of color staining his skin and the dark crescents under his nails. But to me, that only made him more captivating.
When he shook my hand, a spark of electricity made its way through my synapses, sparking a vision of entangled limbs and licentious sighs. I shivered again.
Over a meal, we discussed my commission, talking about setting and light, wardrobe and tone. Both artists were incredibly gifted and knowledgeable, and I knew I was in good hands. I would be in good hands in more ways than one… I simply had to let nature run its course.
The couple offered to let me stay in the loft of their studio, which they had outfitted with comfortable furnishings to accommodate those, like I, who had traveled some distance to have their portraits done.
Over the days as I posed, bedecked in only a chemise, one ruffled strap falling off a delicate shoulder, and reclined seductively on a chaise, the couple and I got to know one another. We spoke of both the mundane, such as history and philosophy, as well as hopes and dreams, connecting us on an intellectual level that I found utterly sexy.
As the days passed, and Beryn adjusted this or that on my person, her silken hands caressing skin, her heated breaths brushing my flesh as she leaned to move me to and fro, I saw—and felt—the changes occurring. Her touches lingered. Her lips got closer. Her breaths became just a bit more labored as she crouched before me to adjust the hem of my chemise or right the neckline.
And as I sat, looking at Vanian as he painted, I saw that he wasn’t unaffected either. I watched his chest rising and falling just a bit more rapidly, his gold eyes darkening as his pupils dilated. I noticed the shift in our dinner conversations as the time wore on.
Even here at my desk, I can feel the weighted heat of his stare and the tremble Beryn’s nearness induced.
On our last full day of work, I realized I was done waiting. If one of them didn’t initiate, I decided that I would. It was clear there was attraction, and the sexual tension over the last fortnight was keeping me awake at night. I needed to feel their hands on my skin. Their breaths in my hair and on my body. I needed to watch as they ran seasoned fingertips over each other. Elicited wanton sighs and cries of pleasure. I needed to taste their individual and mingled essences. I just…needed.
When next Beryn approached to adjust me, I reached up and brushed a luscious lock of her burnished hair back, lightly skimming my fingers over the swell of her breast and bare shoulder as I did. Her breaths immediately ramped up, pushing her impressive bosom into the bodice of her gown and straining the stays.