AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Situated on a tall pedestal was the tiny figure of a naked woman, kneeling. Her face was upturned toward the heavens; her long slender neck banded in a wide metal collar. My breath caught in my lungs as I stared at her hands resting on her splayed thighs—palms up—her pose undeniably submissive.
Tears burned the backs of my eyes and my heartbeat quickened. The statue called to me in a way so powerful and primitive, I couldn’t stop staring. How had the man managed to transform a lump of clay into such a powerful reflection of submission? The enthralling piece of art seemed to have been crafted as a tribute from the heart.
The intricate details were so painstakingly exact that meticulous tears clung to slivers of her eyelashes. So realistic, I could clearly see the lines on her palms and whorls carved into each fingertip. Even the pads of her heels had been etched like the living. Long hair fell in soft curls over her slender shoulders and cascaded down her back, kissing the apex of her ass.
Studying her oval face, her prominent cheekbones, narrow nose, and full lips bore a disturbing resemblance to my own. A shiver slithered up my spine. The longer I studied the piece, the more convinced I became; she wasn’t gazing toward the sky. No, the girl was focused on the face of some unseen Master—seeking approval, pleading for Dominance, or begging his mercy.
Entranced by the lifelike figure, memories bubbled to the surface, igniting a blistering fire of longing and neglect. Seduced by the smoky images filling my mind, I could see myself—through the eyes of an unknown voyeur—kneeling before the man who once held my heart, mind, and soul. Lost in reminiscence, the ghostly sound of my own submissive voice resonated in my ears, while sheltered surrender warmed my empty soul. My days had been bound to unfulfilling duties and tasks, but my nights, oh, my nights had been spent liberated in the bliss of submission. Every cell in my body ached to re-live that glorious feeling…for one more night.
The sensation of hot tears sliding down my cheeks brought me back to the present. Quickly brushing them away, I lifted the champagne to my lips with a trembling hand. The bubbly liquid fizzed over my tongue, and I swallowed tightly, unable to look away from the work of art.
“She’s quite beautiful, isn’t she?” a deep voice asked in a smooth, velvet whisper.
Even the stranger’s question didn’t lure my gaze away. I absently nodded. “Yes,” I murmured.
“She speaks a language you seem to understand. I’ve watched you stare at her for over half an hour,” the whiskey-voiced man noted. “Tell me, why the tears?”
His question finally broke the statue’s spell, and I jerked my head toward the stranger. Startled, I found myself gazing into the same striking green eyes from the article about the tragedy that befell Joshua Lars. No longer haunted with pain, the artist’s eyes held something far scarier…awareness.
Chapter Three
Joshua Lars—the Joshua Lars—stared at me like a hungry wolf evaluating a lone rabbit miles from the safety of its burrow.
“Oh!” I gasped, extending my hand to him. “Mr. Lars, it’s an honor.”
A modest smile tugged his sensual lips, and my heart tripped over itself as it skittered in my chest. “Please, call me Joshua. And trust me, Mellie, the pleasure is all mine.”
He knew my name? No doubt he spied my surprise as a warm chuckle rolled from the back of his throat, sending a streak of arousal igniting within me.
“Abbas has quite a penchant for my work. I made it a point to find out about the woman he’d sent on his behalf.”
“Oh.” I nodded, stunned Joshua would bother with such mundane details.
“You never answered my question, Mellie,” he reminded me.
Joshua stepped close into my personal space. I glanced back at the alluring woman, trying to ignore the decadent heat emanating from his long, lean body. Quickly averting my gaze—for fear the sub statue might pull me beneath her spell again—only to be snared by Joshua’s intense appraisal.
“Actually, I’m a bit embarrassed by my reaction to the piece. I was brought to tears by the sheer beauty and detail of your work,” I fibbed.
“I see.” His expression suddenly turned somber. “My mistake. I thought perhaps she’d swayed you on some other level.”
“Oh? What level is that?” I feigned confusion.
“It’s not important,” he replied with a wave of his hand. “Listen, I was just on my way outside to get some air and I’d like some company. Are you up for that?”
I swallowed tightly. “Yes. Thank you, I’d be honored.” I smiled, then tucked my purse beneath my arm, gripping my champagne glass to keep it from shaking.
“Come.” He smiled.
His word sounded like a command, and I hesitated as he extended his elbow. He arched an inquisitive brow as I forced my hand to grasp the crook of his arm. His muscles were strong and sturdy, and I instantly wondered how they’d feel against my naked flesh while in bed beneath him.
Joshua led me through the gallery and out the back door. Without a word, we walked down a stone pathway surrounded by fragrant rose bushes that did little to soothe my frazzled nerves. Though the gentle breeze from the night air was a welcome change from the bustling, stuffy gallery teeming with prospective buyers, it, too, didn’t help calm me. Nervous energy zipped through me with a level of anxiety so foreign I didn’t know how to sort or suppress it.
Seated on a padded bench beneath the stars, I glanced at the foliage surrounding the courtyard, slowly sipping my champagne. I could feel Joshua’s intense, hot gaze piercing through me, producing awkward and unsure emotions that were so out of character for me that I tipped back the glass and drained the contents in one big gulp. Placing the flute down, I glanced over at him. He smiled, and I all but melted.
“It’s a beautiful night,” I blurted out nervously. “The roses smell so sweet.”
“Yes,” he murmured, staring at me for a disturbingly long time.
