Adom put the final brush stroke on the painting and sat back. Though white washed of its erotic foundations, the piece was marvelous: the Goddess giving birth to the sun. Adom felt the need to bow down to the canvas.
There was no evidence of the suspension rig used to capture his muse in the perfect pose. Instead of beige twine wrapped at her wrists, green vines ensnared the arms of the woman in the painting. The woman in the painting had a different skin hue than his muse. Her breasts were smaller than what Adom could spy beneath Alyss’ clothing. Her waist was narrower and her hips were drawn with more flare. But it was the expression on her face that relayed the truth of her identity.
Alyss had been enraptured when he’d roped and suspended her. Adom had known she would be, likely from the first day he’d seen her at Jian’s home when she’d instructed him on the colors of his paintings. In his experience, bossy women craved domination. Not to put them down or make them feel weak. Bondage and suspension worked to free the individual at their deepest level. Back then, at Jian’s, it was as though Alyss’ soul had called to him and begged him to free her from her stifling cage, from the burdens laid on her shoulders.
For months, the only release Adom could give her was in the way he painted her. But the other night, with each loop he made around her wrists, with every tug of the rope, he’d freed her. If only for a short time.
He knew she needed more, craved it. He’d seen it in her eyes. He’d captured it in his work. Her face was at the same time slack and firm. Her head tilted to reveal her soul-centeredness. Her eyes closed to reveal her spirit’s openness. Sensations bubbled in Adom’s chest at the memory of the feel of her hands as he released her, the disappointment in her eyes when her weight returned to her, the eagerness beneath her lashes, the hope that came out on her breath. She needed more and Adom wanted to give it to her.
His eyes rose to her hands in the painting. They were suspended above her head, wrists constricted, fingers falling free from the tension. The sight of Alyss’ suspended hands even now made his dick hard. Adom looked away from the painting. Even if he were ever allowed to paint her, or bind her again, sex could never be a part of the equation. Not with his proclivities.
His hands itched, his heart ached that he couldn’t give her what she needed. But it was now impossible. He would not betray Emet. Emet, who Adom loved with every bit of his heart, was his world.
Adom stood and prepared to move the painting aside. His memory and imagination would have to serve him from here on out. A sound at the door to his studio had him turning.
In the door stood Emet. Before Emet stood Alyss. Her eyes were rapt to the painting in his hands. She stepped forward, arms stretching out. Her breaths were heavy. Moisture pricked the edges of her eyes. She reached her hand out but pulled away before her fingertips met the canvas. She looked up at Adom. Her mouth worked, but no words escaped. They didn’t need to. Adom felt the same way about their work. And it was their work. He could not have done this without her.
But why was she here now? With Emet?
Adom had barred the storefront door and hid in his studio like a coward, uncertain if he could turn her away when she came to him. It could only have been Emet who let her in.
But why?
Behind Alyss, Emet cleared his throat. Adom tore his eyes away from his muse and focused on his bondmate. There was censure written across his features.
“Lady Alyss and I have come to an agreement.”
Adom’s heartbeat picked up, keeping a steady rhythm so that his ears missed none of Emet’s words.
“She may sit for you again.”
Adom looked down to Alyss who beamed with pure joy. Her eyes looked around the room, hungry. They touched on the blank canvases, the paint, the pencils. The rig.
Adom wasn’t beaming, not yet. He knew his mate. That wasn’t the end of his statement on this arrangement. There would be a condition, and Adom suspected that neither he nor Alyss would like it.
“If she is to sit for you,” Emet continued. “I insist on being in the room.”
That caught Alyss’ attention. She turned back to him. “You didn’t say that before.”
“I’m saying it now.”
“But why?”
Emet’s eyes went to Adom. Emet wasn’t about to tell Lady Alyss why. Emet and Adom never spoke of the reason Adom kept his distance from women.
“I’m not only his mate, I’m his advocate. If he displeased you, you could take your complaint to the Peace Keepers, and he’d be thrown in jail.”
Adom looked away from the memories playing across Emet’s brown gaze, memories of Adom at the mercy of a panicked young woman and her shrewd Mother.
“I would never do such a thing,” Alyss insisted. “I would never do anything to hurt Adom or his work.”
“Yet, tomorrow afternoon you’ll be fighting to end one of his basic rights.”
Alyss ground her teeth.
Emet closed the door and took a seat beside the door frame. He made a motion to Adom to proceed. Lady Alyss turned her back on Emet, shutting him out of her vision. Anger still crinkled the edges of her eyes and pinched her heart-shaped mouth. She took a deep breath and released it. When she opened her eyes, the golden-brown was already churning bright.
“How do you want me?” she said to Adom.
With one final look of gratitude at Emet, Adom turned to his muse. He looked her up and down. There were so many ideas and visions vying for his attention.
Her dress today was a movement of orange, black and white. It fluttered around her like a bird, or a butterfly. Her body sat in the center as though she were a flower, a lotus. The lotus blossom was a sexual image; a representation of a woman’s sacred flower. Adom had a vision of Lady Alyss awakening in the petals of a blossom.
He pulled a chair before his easel. “Will you have a seat, my lady?”
Alyss sent a disappointed glance towards the rig before trudging to the proffered seat.
Adom’s mouth quirked. He knew he hadn’t imagined that she wanted the bindings. That look just then was proof positive. He sent his smile over his shoulder, but Adom was met with a frown from his bondmate. But Emet refused to acknowledge the unspoken message.
Adom sighed and put his back to his lover. He knelt down before Lady Alyss. Her breath caught when their gazes met. Adom sat back on his haunches placing his face in alignment with her core. He held her gaze for a moment, searching her depths, trying to see how far he could take her today. He saw a clear path to the destination he wanted in her golden eyes, but he reached for her foot instead.
He undid the ties on her boot, frowning at the lack of symmetry between the laces. He slid the boot free and positioned her leg on the outside of the chair leg. Then he did the same with the other boot, foot, and leg. When he was done, Lady Alyss sat spread eagle in the chair. Her dress obstructed his view of her blossom, but Adom was a patient man. When he made love to Emet, and in the past the women under his tutelage, orgasm was only a destination. Adom most enjoyed the journey and the explorations of the path. He liked to venture both high and low, taking his companion along for a long ride.
Adom rose and went to his rope collection. He selected a hemp rope. The material was a bit coarser than the one he’d used on Lady Alyss the previous night. He wanted her to feel the bite today.
Adom returned to Lady Alyss. Standing over top of her from behind the chair, he looked down and saw her breasts heaving in pants. She was both excited and aroused. She sucked in a shuddery breath when Adom gathered her forearms behind her back.
He draped her arms over the chair’s back and bound her. Before he finished, Alyss’ head was already dropping back in rope ecstasy. Adom chanced a glance at Emet. The male was leaning forward in his chair, his eyes rapt on Alyss.
When Emet caught Adom staring, he sat back in his chair, crossed his arms over his chest and looked into the corner.
Adom walked the short path back to his easel, eager for this journey to get underway, in no hurry to get to the end.