THE PAINTER

Prologue

Shaping his face with my palms, I try to study him. Prominent cheekbones, a chiselled jaw, a long straight nose and soft parted lips meets my hands.

I trace his cheekbones with my long slender index finger. I run a finger along what I suppose is his lips and stroke them softly.

He sits there quietly in the ottoman facing me with closed eyelids and tousled hair. He whispers softly to me, saying I was too beautiful for him.

Stroking his forehead, I tuck away his hair behind his ear tenderly. His hair is so soft and silky. I could spend the whole day running my fingers through them.

When I ask him, what is his eye colour- he says that they are charcoal black. I ask about mine and he replies in his baritone voice, "They are sea green. They look like sparkling emerald."

I can hear his soft chuckle. It grazes across me and I close my eyes at the soft innocent sound.

I move forward and he pulls me up by my waist and places me on his lap. My legs dangle on either side. I straddle him and search for his lips in the partial darkness of the room. It is bathed in a golden glow coming from the candles he had put there.

He tips my chin upwards and presses his lips to mine in a sweet unhurried kiss.

The beating of hooves on the ground followed by the cries of horses pierces through the uncanny silence. Alarmed at the sound, I break free from his strong hold.

"They're here. I-I need to go. They will kill you if they find me here," I whisper, my voice turning anxious.

"No stay here. You'll stay with me tonight. They will not find you, I promise," he said trying to calm my jittery nerves.

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This was our story. We used to meet in the silence of night and used to part by the dawn of the day.

Oh! How I wish I could have seen him. Oh! How I wish I could see what I painted in those canvases. But the past catastrophe had snatched away my sight and I was left being a blind unholy painter... The people told stories about my sins. The mothers used to lull their children to sleep by telling stories of a monster, and that monster was me.

No one believed in me, except him...My Juan.

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This would be the first time that I would be writing in first person. Please stick with me! I really need you love and support.

Hello my lovely readers! So here I'm with a new story. What did you think about the prologue? Can you guess what the story is going to be about? Comment your thoughts below and don't forget to click that ☆. 😊

So this story is going to contain some mature contents. Read if you feel like you could keep up with the sensuality😉

Help me build a plot by commenting your prompts! I'll try to build the story accordingly.

Happy reading!