A TWIST OF FATE || Rewriting

Ch. 64 || Paint 🌶️

Zaria 🥀

The moonlight coming through the large French window drenched my skin in its dark blue light as the cold breeze blew past me, making my open hair and the transparent silver laced-nightgown waver. I pull the both sides together, wearing nothing underneath. No bra, no panties, no bandage. It's almost been a month and my skin is in a naturally healing stage. It hurts less now. Almost close to no pain.

The only light in the art room is the moonlight and a small lamp flashing on the canvas Damien is painting me on. Sitting on a stool in front of me, he is half naked. His black trouser stretch along his thigh and his tattooed-tanned skin glowing softly under the golden lamp.

His hands are moving on the canvas with a paintbrush and his lethal, seductive, dark eyes burning on me with intense scrutiny. No one is in the house tonight except Damien and I. Everyone else is at Vitalis, working late on the plans.

The sight of him made me want to paint him. He is not a charming guy—not in the general sense— but he has the lethal, fatal looks that makes him look dangerously intimidating in a way that shouldn't be so attractive.

None of us speak a word. His eyes on me as I sit there on the divan with my eyes on his every movement as he moved his hands to paint me. Only the gentle wind and slow, melodic music played in the background in low volume from the small speaker in the room.

His eyes fell on my bare legs, studying it as he captured them on the canvas. Heat pooled between my legs. I want to feel those hands on me.

Silently, placing down my feet on the ground, I stand up. He casually glanced at me through the raised eyebrows and I felt the fire of his eyes on my skin as I walked in the middle of the room, holding my split lace nightgown together.

The art room is messier than the last time I visited here. Now, there's a huge art of my eyes painted on a large wall. The floor is a mess with a bunch of paint brush, paints, empty and used canvases laying around.

There's a one and huge white canvas in the middle. Plane and clear. I walk on it. The paint I got on my feet from the ground made colourful footprints on it. I turned around in Damien's direction. Another large French window to my right allowed the moon directly to shine its presence on me, making me more visible in the hues of dark blue.

When Damien silently studied me, I dared to move and slowly slide the nightgown apart. After opening my front, the sleeves gently creased my skin as it started falling down my body, leaving me completely naked. My chest heaved as Damien's eyes fell on my naked flesh. He didn't react but even in the darkness, I did notice the sinful mischief glint in his eyes. That only made my clit throb.

"Would you mind to paint on me instead?" My voice almost a whisper but he heard me.

"If you are ready to handle the consequences of my losing composure." His deep voice replied.

I don't want to feel Lucien's touch. I don't want to be so lost in my mind that I will go insane. All this time I have held myself the strongest, not letting the trauma shatter me. The only time I would cry would be in Damien's arms because I felt the safest there than anywhere else on earth.

I will not let the past grim me. Lucien thought he would destroy me, but he only made the hiding monster in me to rise higher.

"I want your hands everywhere on my skin. Please." I say softly. 

He stands up and walks towards me with a predator's grace while his eyes burn into mine. He walked on the canvas, his coloured footprints matching against my own. He stood so close to me that his body spread warmth over my naked skin and I tipped my head back to look up at him.