Page 13 of Her Christmas Beast
“Five! Where did that come from?”
“Simple math, Angel. You were five hours late, arriving here after ten.”
“Oh, fuck. Fine. Where do you want me?” I’m not sure why this crazy man is determined to keep me in a constant state of… I’m not even sure what to call it. He’s bound to get bored by this game eventually, right?
Oblivious to my internal thoughts, Billy points over to a tall table, at a height where he can work comfortably without bending over. It’s broad and sturdy, but I’ve no idea how to get up there.
“Let me clear it off first,” Billy says briskly before he stacks piles of paper and what looks like craft supplies and then dumps them on top of a smaller table in the shadows. A few trips and the surface is completely clear.
He lifts me up onto the table, and lets his hand drift down to my pussy, no doubt checking that his device is still in place. “Do you know the yoga position child’s pose?”
“Uh… no?”
He rolls his eyes at me like I’ve confessed to not knowing I need to pay taxes (which I doandon time, by the way). “Start by getting on your hands and knees. Now sink your pretty ass back onto your legs and stretch your arms out with your forehead resting on the table. Now for my purposes, I want your ass back in the air as high as you can manage comfortably.”
I follow his instructions until the last part, where he has to show me what he wants by gently pressing my back and guiding my ass. “And this is going to be a building?” I ask skeptically.
“Umm, I’m thinking more like a house or a visitor center. We’ll see. Now just stay put.”
Not like I have a choice. I don’t think I could undo this position without help at this point.
Billy sits down in a comfortable-looking leather armchair with a sketchpad and a large piece of artist charcoal between his fingers. He grips it between his second and third fingers instead of using his thumb, and I’m kind of fascinated. But even more happy that he can draw anything without pain skittering across his face. I watch him from beneath the veil of my hair as his eyes trace over me. It’s entrancing being the subject of such careful study. I’m desperate to see what he’s drawing, how he sees me.I wouldn’t have thought there was that much to draw, but when he finally loses that look of complete concentration, I realize my neck is stiff.
“Okay, let’s get you into another position and I’ll start your stretching too.” I roll my eyes. Pretty sure a man’s cock can stretch things as well as a silicone one, but there’s no budging him.
“Can you bend back the other way?”
“No. I’m a math professor, not a circus acrobat,” I remind him dryly.
“Hmmm. Then how about in reverse? If you lie on you stomach with your lower legs and arms up?”
I stare at him baffled. “Just move me. If I don’t bend, don’t force it and we’ll be fine.”
We settle on something not too bad, but again, I have zero concept of how this relates to architecture. I stop trying to figure that out when he takes the remote out of his pocket. Only this time the hum is pleasant, but not doing that much for me. After about five minutes, Billy puts everything down and comes over to stare down at me. “Why aren’t you having an orgasm?”
“How the hell should I know? This is your project, big guy.”
He studies my body with a frown tugging at his agile mouth, pulls the vibrator out, and replaces it with two of his broad fingers. “It’s the angle, I think,” he announces more cheerfully as I clench painfully tight around his hand. Then he proceeds to blow my mind in a way that makes me wonder exactly what kind of math he was studying at that fancy Ivy League school. Although I’m pretty sure his ability to make me cum has nothing to do with angles and everything to do with Billy.
After my breathing has returned to a normal rhythm eventually I ask, “Can I see?” gesturing to his sketchpad he left on the chair.
He inclines his head ever so slightly and helps me down from the table before handing it to me. I flip through the pages. Even though I was there, I’d never recognize any of it as being me. They aren’t portraits exactly. More a study of lines and I do recognize that one long sensuous one matches the pose I started in. As lines go, it’s lovely. “So what will you do with this one?” I’m beyond curious at this point.
He eyes me speculatively for a minute and then pulls out a fresh pad of paper. He draws on it while his eyes trace the sketch in my hand, then he turns his attention back to the paper in front of him and makes only three or four strokes before flipping it to show me. “Like this,” he says calmly.
I gape. That single line became a roof and wall, to which he added another curved line and the semblance of a door and a window. “It’s beyond beautiful, Billy. I don’t know how you do it.” I shake my head in wonder. He’s a genuine genius.
“It’s fun, and truthfully that’s the easy part… but none of it is as satisfying as seeing you fly apart in my arms.”
“Then why won’t you let me have you, all of you?”
He’s silent and I watch his jaw clench like he’s trying to hold back words. “You’re waiting for something, aren’t you? For me to do or saysomething.”
He gives a jerky nod and I sigh. “You know I would, if I knew whatitwas.”
That small sweet smile that could almost be a grimace touches his mouth. “I know, baby. Don’t beat yourself up. You’re making good progress and it’s not a test.”
Could have fooled me. “Well, I’m changing the rules. No more orgasms of any kind unless you’re holding me and I can watchyourface.”