Passion Shattered (Masquerade Part III) (2 page)

“Oh God,” he gaspe
d. She halted only for a moment. K
nowing his desperation for release
,
she sought to prolong the delicious agony
, if only just slightly. Then
,
she sucked
harder
while moving up and down on his pulsing cock. All the while
,
her hand played rough, squeezing and rubbing all the way to the base.

A wash of salty cum shot into her mouth. She swallowed over and over to accommodate the volume. As Ryan was rocked with his orgasm, she held and softly squeezed his hot balls, pulling from him every drop he could give her. The muscles in his thighs had stiffened rock hard and now bega
n to relax. His body slumped from the
brief exhaustion of sexual tension. She rested the side of her head between his legs, the male smell of sex like a drug to her.

Her own clit was hard as pebble. She stood on wobbly legs and looked down at him. He held both her hands. She wanted to endure her sexual arousal
and delay her satisfaction
. The heat in her co
re and sopping wet pussy were
a constant reminder of
her limitless desire, for him -
only him.

Ryan wanted to give Heather endless orgasms to satisfy her as she deserved. He leaned back in his chair, raking his hands through his hair and emit
ting a deep sigh
. He looked mystified as she stepped back. With a blindingly bright smile, she said teasingly, “Later, baby.” She bent over to retrieve her high heels, making sure Ryan had the full on view of her ass as she did so. Then, lifted her ja
cket from the arm of the chair and sashayed
back to the house, knowing full well the effect she was having.

The painting was to be delivered to Ryan’s home tomorrow. She should be pleased but instead regret swelled inside her. She couldn’t dispel the nagging thought that she’d gone too far this time. It was over the edge, she was sure. Doubts haunted her.

Her art wasn’t the only subject that was her Achilles heel. Ryan had tried to convince her to forget about Christina but the former girlfriend wouldn’t give them any peace. She was vocal in the tabloids. Heather wasn’t used to all the attention. Her inner voice kept telling her to back away. She wasn’t right for Ryan. She knew that was true. It’s just that he didn’t know it yet.

Ryan had his own issues with Christina. She seemed determined to either have him or ruin him. That woman had a vicious streak that he’d never seen when they were together. It was clear she didn’t tolerate having a woman she called “a nobody” step into a relationship with Ryan. She was determined to claim him for her own.

That was never goi
ng to happen. Christina was
up for the
lead with Ryan in his next film
. That had disaster written all over it. His agent was lobbying the casting director for another choice but it wasn’t easy going. Having the two top stars meant more ticket sales and box office
numbers were everything in the movie
business.

Ryan focused on the work he had to do. Before the filming started, he had more time to work on his gold and silver investments and the recently added mining companies. He’d started his own investment business years ago and it was now starting to pay off. He was grateful for the success he’d had in Hollywood but it was all so much pretense. Working in his own company was a breath of fresh air for him.

He better call Heather to let her k
now what time the car would
pick her up tomorrow. Seeing the finished painting was a bright spot to look forward to. It was a special painting not just because of his vision but, even more, that Heather was the artist. He knew her erotic nature. A wave of heat coursed through his veins just thinking of her. He could only imagine what the finished painting would look like, considering the passionate nature of their relationship.

“Heather, my love.”
  He put his cheek against the cell phone as if he could feel her skin on his.

“Ryan.” There was something in her tone. “There’s a problem. What I mean is, I’ve been thinking. Maybe the painting isn’t right, just yet. I’d like to delay, if that’s okay.” Heather was at her kitchen table, the color photos in several entertainment magazines still open. She’d been riffling through them, again.

“I’m sure it’s perfect, Heather. You were so happy with it yesterday. What’s changed?”

She’d no idea how to tell him. There were no words. The silence made Ryan anxious. “Heather?”

“We need to talk,” she started. Oh, why did that sound so trite? “I’ve made a mistake. I mean, you’ve made a mistake but you don’t know it.”

“Heather, baby, what in the world are you talking about? Has someone talked to you?”

“Who would have talked to me? Should someone have talked to me?” Heather’s heart began to beat faster. Just as she’d feared, her life was falling apart. “I’ll explain when I see you, if I’m able to. Oh, Ryan, I don’t know what to do.”

“Please don’t worry. I’m coming to pick you up, immediately. Don’t go anywhere. Are you at home?” Ryan was already grabbing his jacket and on the way out the door.

“Yes, but I don’t know if that’s good idea right now.” She felt the tears and was unable to hold them back.

“Trust me, it’s a good idea. I’ll be there as fast as I can.”

Ryan got there faster than she thought possible. When she saw what he was driving, she wasn’t surprised. His bright red Por
s
che 911 was so flashy. It momentarily took her mind off her troubles. She’d tried to get herself together, changed to her jeans and grabbed her light green cardigan sweater, just in case it got cold later. Quickly, she’d put on make-up, using the tricks she knew to make her swollen eyes look better, not sure how well it worked. Her hair was loosely tied at her neck.

Ryan was smart enough
not
to
bring up any sensitive issues just yet. He made sure to get her in the car before she bolted. He could see she’d been crying. He wanted to put his arms around her, tell her everything would be okay.

The luscious car worked its magic. A slight smile crept into her eyes when he helped her into the leather passenger seat. Ryan sprinted to his side and hopped in. Hitting the accelerator was always a
thrill,
no matter how many times he drove the powerful car.

Off they went toward Malibu, the scene incredibly picturesque. Pacific Coast Highway would be a sweet ride this afternoon. Ryan was glad he’d driven his favorite car to the office today. It had to be a good omen.

Heather let her mind wander, the speed of the magnificent car taking her away from the discussion she wouldn’t be able to avoid. Ryan was thoroughly enjoying the ride with the music cranked up. She admired his lean thighs under the tight jeans. The muscles flexed every time he shifted and the adrenaline rushed through him.

“Today was a fairytale. You were the prince. I used to be a damsel in distress.” The Taylor Swift lyrics seemed all too right for today, for them together. Heather would have sung along but her heavy mood prevented it. The ocean could be seen along the road, so beautiful, she thought.

Ryan turned down the music. She took in his worried look and averted her gaze, unable to face his gray-green eyes just yet. She knew she had to be honest with Ryan. If only she could find the right words.

Ryan reached over to squeeze her leg as an encouragement. She took a breath and began as best she could. “I had the locks changed. And security knows that Jamison is not allowed to enter. But I can’t forget him barging into my private home, my studio. It disturbed me.”

Ryan gripped the steering wheel, his biceps flexing. He’d be sure Jamison never bothered her again. And that idiot would not want to deal with Ryan’s fury if he upset Heather further. “You’re safe, Heather. Trust me.”

She did feel safe here with Ryan. She took in his muscled chest and arms under the tight shirt. If he wrapped his arms around her, she’d never fear anything. Except….

“Ryan. I want to be open with you. I’m trying to be, anyway.”

Ryan gave her a glance. Her eyes looked down at her lap. He wanted so badly to make this go away, whatever was crushing her. He reached over and stroked her cheek with his hand.

She gave a weak smile. “You see, Jamison always thought my art was, well, as he puts it – trashy. I trusted his opinion, in the beginning anyway. And it wasn’t just art that he objected to. I, um, you know me. Sometimes my desire takes over. I don’t hold back, just like with my art. But he always rebuffed me.

I’ve been thinking about this for days, ever since Jamison saw the finished painting. I shouldn’t have cared what he thought. I don’t care. Yet, his cruel words hurt. They hurt like they always have. He hits me at my weakest point – my sexuality.

Maybe women aren’t supposed to be so open. Maybe he’s right. My art goes too far, pushing the limit, really goes beyond any acceptable limit. It’s offensive. Maybe I’m…”

“Heather, stop,” Ryan said softly. His heart was melting. “Baby, please. You’ve got this wrong. You know Jamison is cruel. He was harsh with you, not good for you. I don’t want that to stay with you.

Listen to me. I’ve been more myself with you than I ever have with any woman. You are special. I knew that from the first moment I saw you. The instant I saw your angel’s face, those shiny blond curls, that pouty mouth, I craved you. I crave you every moment of every day.

But it’s not just that. You have love inside you that was meant to be shared. It shows in your paintings. Don’t hide it, baby. The world should be honored that you share that part of yourself.

I’m deeply touched that you trust me enough not to hide your passion. I want it - all of it.”

Heather looked up through her thick lashes. At first
,
no expression showed in her features. No man had ever said that to her. All Jamison did was try to change her, make her more –acceptable. She’d been embarrassed to be so – yes, wild. She’d
attempted
to hold back her real nature
,
but was never happy
,
no matter how hard she tried.

The only complete happiness she’d felt was with Ryan. That’s what had her so freaked. If he knew, really knew the depths of her passion, would he feel the same toward her. He was claiming he would. But that was i
n private, not revealed for
the world to see.

He’d yet to see the painting she’d done. It personified her feelings for him. She feared it was too much. She had a sinking feeling that he may not want to display it in his home, prominently in his wine cellar where he held parties with other celebrities.

Now that it was done, she was all too aware that it made a statement. Not just the statement that Ryan had commissioned. It was clear to her that it revealed her inner emotion, her true erotic feelings. She’d somehow imbued the canvas so she, Heather, was literally bared for all to see.

Ryan’s words had restored her nerve, better to seize the moment while she had strength. She couldn’t delay. She had to know how he’d react. Butterflies seized her stomach, yet somehow she found her voice. “Take me back right now, Ryan. It’s time to reveal the painting.” Heather had a lustful glow in her eyes. It gave Ryan hope.

Heather guided Ryan down the stairs to her studio, her excitement renewed. She was sure he’d love it, or was she? It was too late now.

There he was staring at the painting, not saying a word, giving nothing away. Seconds seemed like an eternity. Heather’s heart fell. She’d revealed too much. Too bold, she was always too bold. She
questioned whether she was brave
enough to reveal her inner passions but, too late, Ryan was already lost in the sensual art.

She looked back at the painting,
noting
the deep red tones of the scene
. It
was more revelatory than anything she’d ever created. There was a beautiful woman in the nude in the middle of the vineyard, completely confident in her sexuality. Her long blond hair blew in the wind like the leaves on the vines that surrounded her.

She ate of the grapes as if it were the apple in the Garden Of Eden and the look on her face was just as erotic as Heather imagined it would be. She was one with nature, her nakedness was only a statement to the natural beauty of the female form, nothing held back. H
er red po
uty lips beckoned with
sensual pleasure coursing through her as much as any orgasm would.

If Ryan knew anything about Heather, he’d known she was passionate by nature. Every encounter reaffirmed that for him. He felt as if he’d entered her soul, looking at this painting. It was everything he’d asked for. No, it was beyond that. It had come to life. It begged the viewer to join in the pure pleasure of wine and women. Not any woman, the woman who showed her sexuality without even a hint of inhibition. The pure goodness of erotic sex shouted from the canvas.