Authors: Nicole Camden
Cursed (10 page)
“You were amazing,” he said simply, taking her hand.
Lille laughed, a full, loud laugh that had Max's own lips curling farther upward. “He thought I would come with him. That I would just forget everything.”
Max stroked her cheek, tucking back a lock of hair that had fallen down beneath the headpiece. “He doesn't know you. He thinks you're like him.”
Lille nodded. “But I'm not.”
“That's right, love,” Max agreed, touching her chin. “I want to take you back to my house and fuck you, but I think Mary would kill you if you don't see her paintings.”
“The party?” Lille sat up. “I forgot. Are she and John there?”
He placed a calming hand over hers. “Carl texted them. They're waiting for us.”
Lille relaxed. “All right. I suppose I could always find some dark alcove in which to have my way with you.” She wiggled her brows, though the effect was mostly lost in the gray makeup.
“I suppose you could at that,” Max agreed. “You've already turned me to stone.”
Lille snickered. “That was terrible.”
“It was,” he agreed, navigating the car out of the driveway of the small hotel and onto the street leading back to Carl's gallery.
CHAPTER
Twenty-nine
When they arrived at the gallery, there was still a line of people and cars, but one of the valets came running up with a cell phone to his ear.
“Yes, sir, I see them. I'll let them in.”
Max put the car in park in the middle of the street, tossing the kid the keys and hurrying around to the passenger-side door to let Lille out.
She held her hands out to him, smiling, pleased that he was the one escorting her. He tucked her arm against his side again and walked with her toward the entrance.
They ignored the line, walking straight up the stairs, and the bouncers let them in immediately, lifting the red velvet rope that blocked off the entrance. John and Mary were already inside; Lille spotted them immediately beneath a crystal chandelier that dripped from the ceiling. They were facing away from Max and Lille, and there seemed to be something wrong. John had his arm around Mary and was trying to soothe her, running his hands along her arms.
“I shouldn't have brought you here,” he was saying. “Not after last time.”
Lille turned to Max. “Is this where she was attacked?”
Max nodded. “I forgot as well. She didn't say anything about it to you?”
“No.” Lille shook her head, ashamed that she'd been so wrapped up in her own fear that she'd never considered her friend's, not even once.
“Mary,” Lille called out, and Mary turned, relief spreading over her made-up face.
“Lille.” Mary sighed and hugged her. “You're okay.”
“I'm okay,” Lille agreed, and hugged her back.
After a few minutes, Mary pulled away and seemed to gather herself, sniffing a little.
“Well, let's go look at some art, shall we?”
Lille frowned. “Are you sure? I meanâ”
“I'm sure,” Mary snapped.
Lille knew that tone now and held up a hand for peace. “Okay, fine. Let's find your paintings.”
“They're this way.” Mary led them through the main entryway to a hall on the right-hand side. The door was draped with spiderwebs and guarded by a statue of Cerberus.
The crowd inside was wandering among the paintings, which were lit with spotlights to great effect. A soundtrack of moans and sighs filled the room, causing a titter of laughter here and there.
The first painting Lille saw was the one that Mary had done of Max, tied to a chair.
She tugged on his tie to pull his face closer to hers. “I think I want that one for my personal collection,” she whispered in his ear.
“Why have a painting when you can have the real thing?” He nipped her ear and made her chuckle.
They walked around, Mary hand in hand with John, and Lille and Max following.
It wasn't until they came around the corner that the pièce de résistance of the collection came into view. It was a smaller canvas, about the same height as Mary, but it radiated as if it burned with a light all its own.
“It's the most beautiful thing,” one woman cooed.
Lille couldn't speak. Her breath had left her, and there was no room for air, no need for it, really, because her heart had stopped. There was nothing else. She was reborn, her whole life wiped clean with a single glance.
In the painting, Lille and Max lay together in bed, their bodies entwined, the sun streaming in on them in bright rays, glowing around their bodies like love itself. Lille's arms were thrown around Max, her fingers clutching him even in sleep, clinging to him, and suddenly Lille knew the answer to a question she'd asked Mary a few days before.
“Why is it different, with Max?” she'd asked, but she'd been a fool because the answer had been there, just waiting for her, and she'd never even looked, had been too afraid to look.
The reason it was different, the reason Max's loving her was different, was because she loved Max as well. She didâshe loved him. And even if he stopped loving her someday, right now, this minute, she loved him, and she wanted to take the risk with him.
She took his hand and tugged him away, back through the entryway and toward the door. She pulled off her wig, depositing it on their way out on a statue of Venus masturbating.
“Where're we going, lass?” Max sounded only mildly curious, content to let her lead the way.
“We're going home,” she told him with a grin.
He smiled back, somehow knowing what she meant.
“That's good, then. No more talk of leaving?”
Lille stopped, leaned in for a kiss, and said against his lips, “None.”
Max hugged her. “Then I don't suppose we could talk about you moving in with me?”
Lille laughed and tugged him again. “One step at a time, Irishman.”
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Nicole Camden, author of “The Nekkid Truth” in
Big Guns Out of Uniform
, has returned to erotica after a decade of teaching, dog-rescuing, and other mayhem. She lives in Houston with her husband and two dogs.
Erotica
BY NICOLE CAMDEN
The Fetish Queen, Part Two: Infamous
The Fetish Queen, Part One: Reborn
The Fetish Box, Part Three: What Remains
The Fetish Box, Part Two: What Escapes
The Fetish Box, Part One: Open All Night
“The Nekkid Truth” in
Big Guns Out of Uniform
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This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author's imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2014 by Nicole Camden
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First Pocket Star Books ebook edition May 2014
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ISBN 978-1-4767-6051-3
