Sweetest Venom (Virtue #2)(44)

“The ability to impress Carl’s discerning eye isn’t an everyday occurrence. And when it does happen, you don’t want to be the last one to find out—to miss what usually becomes a storm about to rage chaos in the art scene. And what sensual, daring chaos is Mr. Geraghty about to rage on us, his poor unsuspecting victims? I was invited to go inside his studio and take a first look at his work and what I’m sure will be the beginning of an illustrious career. The photographs are thought provoking, sensual to the point of almost being indecent, and every single one of them took my breath away …”

Satisfied, Rachel places the article next to her leg. “You’re going to be a star, Ronan. I can feel it. Look at them, losing their minds over you already.”

I think of the woman who came to the studio that Carl provided and whose presence I forgot all about once I began to photograph the model posing for me, trying to capture her soul with the click of the camera.

“You think?” I ask, hating the uncertainty that tinges my voice.

“Without a doubt.” Rachel leans forward, rubbing her chest against mine invitingly, before placing her mouth on mine and kissing me.

I snake my hands under her silk baby doll, finding her bare, and knead my fingers in the soft flesh of her ass. I start to move her back and forth, lazily grinding her hot, wet cunt against my growing cock.

Rachel ends the kiss with a frustrated groan and buries her face in the crook of my neck. “My God, you drive me crazy. I don’t recognize myself when I’m with you. I want you too much.”

I twist her hair in my hand, tug it back, and make her look at me, absorbing the lovely blush coating the crests of her cheeks. My heart remains silent, but I can’t deny the fact that I like her, that my body hungers for her, and that I can’t get enough of her. I need Rachel to soothe the pain and fill the emptiness threatening to swallow me whole.

“I want you, too. So damn much.”

She bites her bottom lip while a shadow sweeps across her clear blue eyes, muting their color momentarily. I rub that same lip with my thumb, feeling its heat.

“What is it?”

“Tell me about her,” she whispers.

I pause momentarily as Blaire’s memory blinds me and I feel as though I am falling down a deep well where there’s no escape. But I push past it until it’s Rachel and her blonde hair and her body on mine that hold me to this place, to her.

“What would you like to know?”

“Are you still in love with her?”

“Right now,” I grab the edges of the baby doll and pull it up over her ass, revealing her bare * to me, her flat stomach, and her perfect tits, “I am not.” When Rachel is completely naked and trembling under my hands, I toss the fabric carelessly on the floor, reach for her hips, and guide her core toward my mouth. “Allow me to show you.”

The article forgotten …

Along with the woman I once loved.





Blaire

THERE’S A KNOCK AT THE DOOR. As I wake up, my eyes growing accustomed to my surroundings, I notice that this is my childhood bedroom. Confused, I push the duvet cover to the side and get out of bed. “Coming,” I say as the banging grows louder. I open the door and find my mother standing in the hall, dressed in the same clothes that she had on the last time we saw each other years ago. It’s like time has stopped moving and she hasn’t aged. She’s still as beautiful as the day I left home.

“Mom? What are you doing here?”

She hands me an envelope without saying a word.

I take it and gaze down at the letters written on the white paper. “What is this?”

“Everything you have left of your father.”

“What do you mean? Where is he?”

My mother spins on her feet and begins to walk away from me as fear clutches its ugly claws in my chest. “Mom! What do you mean? Where is Daddy?”

She stops somewhere down the hallway and turns to look at me, her eyes empty. “He’s gone, Blaire. He’s gone.”

Devastating pain explodes inside me, shattering me from within. The room begins to spin, people, furniture, and various flying objects become a mass of swirling colors.

Then I’m in the arms of a man whose face I can’t see. Every time I try to look at him, my sight becomes blurry and it prevents me from discovering his identity. His gentle touch is familiar, though, and it fills me with a sense of tenderness and love.

The man clasps me tighter to his chest without saying a word. His silence is more comforting than words could ever be. But it’s his presence that means everything and gives me strength to continue breathing.

“My dad is dead,” I whisper brokenly. “And I never got to say good-bye to him.” I press a hand to the ache in my chest and wonder how someone can feel so much pain and be able to live through it, breathe through it.

He presses a kiss on my forehead. “Would you have wanted to?”

“I don’t know … I feel so lost.”

“Go back home, Blaire. Go to him. Go to your mom,” the man urges.

“I can’t. I’m too late.” I try to look at him again, but he begins to disappear as though his body is made of smoke. “No!” I shout hysterically, reaching for him but grasping nothing but air. “Don’t leave me. Stay with me. I n-need you.”