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Authors: Michelle Houston
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her nerves
stretch tight. Ryan had always had that effect on her, but not
normally so unpleasantly. Anticipation of his return home from work
would always leave her with damp palms, her breath coming just a
little bit quicker. It was accentuated often by what she was
wearing as she waited on him. Normally it was simple lingerie, or a
leather bustier. But sometimes he would ask her to lie on the bed
wearing a mask, her body completely nude, her limbs resting in the
valley of padded cuffs, waiting for him to close them around her
wrists and ankles.
Those were the days she longed for the most,
the innocent seduction of submitting to his dominating ways, of
feeling him stroke her body with a soft whip before the whistle of
it sung through the air, and the crack of it landed against her
tender skin.
It had been perfect.
When her grandmother had gifted her with the
painting of the two of them laying together on a white canvas, no
sheets or other decorations to detract from the passion of their
embrace, she hadn't had the heart to let the aging woman know a key
item was missing, specifically a collar around her neck.
Shaking her head at herself, Erika returned
her gaze to the auctioneer as she countered Ryan's latest bid,
taking the cost to eighteen-fifty. Knowing she could only go a few
hundred higher tortured her. She was so close, but as the bids
continued, and the price jumped to twenty-one hundred, she had to
admit defeat. The auctioneer asked for twenty-two hundred, asked
again, then looked at her and asked for twenty-one fifty. Raising
her paddle, Erika accepted the bid, then held her breath as the bid
was asked again for twenty-two hundred.
"We have twenty-two hundred from the
gentleman in the back. Do I have twenty-three hundred? Anyone?
Twenty-three hundred for this breathtaking Virginia Gleeson
painting? No? twenty-two fifty? Anyone? Then sold for twenty-two
hundred to the gentleman in the back. If you'll come up front,
please.
"Our next painting …"
Erika tuned out the auctioneer as he started
in about the details of the next artwork. Gathering her purse and
folder, she stood and walked to the back of the room. A warm hand
wrapped around her elbow and jerked her to a halt.
"We need to talk."
Looking into Ryan's gaze,
Erika felt her heart tighten. She wanted to scream at
him for buying her grandmother's painting, but the memory of how
much she used to love him held her silent.
Bitterness swirled around her as she pulled
away from him and opened the doors.
"If you want a chance at that painting,
you'll hear me out."
Erika almost didn't stop, but knowing how
heart broken her mother would be if she ever found out there was a
last chance to get the painting back, forced her to stop. Her
mother had taken the loss of her own mother just a few months
earlier very hard. It had renewed her determination that they find
and acquire all of her paintings.
"Meet me in the hallway in five minutes."
Nodding her head without looking back, Erika
stepped into the opening between the heavy oak doors and allowed
them to swing closed behind her. Pressing a palm against her chest,
she could feel her heart racing. She managed to drop into one of
the antique chairs that lined the hallway, her mind whirling with
thoughts about what Ryan could want.
Devastatingly handsome, born into a wealthy
family, Ryan still had a down-to-earth quality about him. Part of
that was thanks to his father's determination that his son not grow
up thinking the world owed him anything. Ryan had once confessed,
their bodies still glistening with sweat and the juices of their
shared passion, that he owed his old man for that. He appreciated
everything he had.
Unfortunately, a few months later, Erika knew
it had all been a lie. He hadn't appreciated her. Clenching her
fingers, she could still feel the coldness wash over her body as
she had held the newspaper article announcing Ryan's upcoming
marriage to a socialite friend of the family. He had always
stretch tight. Ryan had always had that effect on her, but not
normally so unpleasantly. Anticipation of his return home from work
would always leave her with damp palms, her breath coming just a
little bit quicker. It was accentuated often by what she was
wearing as she waited on him. Normally it was simple lingerie, or a
leather bustier. But sometimes he would ask her to lie on the bed
wearing a mask, her body completely nude, her limbs resting in the
valley of padded cuffs, waiting for him to close them around her
wrists and ankles.
Those were the days she longed for the most,
the innocent seduction of submitting to his dominating ways, of
feeling him stroke her body with a soft whip before the whistle of
it sung through the air, and the crack of it landed against her
tender skin.
It had been perfect.
When her grandmother had gifted her with the
painting of the two of them laying together on a white canvas, no
sheets or other decorations to detract from the passion of their
embrace, she hadn't had the heart to let the aging woman know a key
item was missing, specifically a collar around her neck.
Shaking her head at herself, Erika returned
her gaze to the auctioneer as she countered Ryan's latest bid,
taking the cost to eighteen-fifty. Knowing she could only go a few
hundred higher tortured her. She was so close, but as the bids
continued, and the price jumped to twenty-one hundred, she had to
admit defeat. The auctioneer asked for twenty-two hundred, asked
again, then looked at her and asked for twenty-one fifty. Raising
her paddle, Erika accepted the bid, then held her breath as the bid
was asked again for twenty-two hundred.
"We have twenty-two hundred from the
gentleman in the back. Do I have twenty-three hundred? Anyone?
Twenty-three hundred for this breathtaking Virginia Gleeson
painting? No? twenty-two fifty? Anyone? Then sold for twenty-two
hundred to the gentleman in the back. If you'll come up front,
please.
"Our next painting …"
Erika tuned out the auctioneer as he started
in about the details of the next artwork. Gathering her purse and
folder, she stood and walked to the back of the room. A warm hand
wrapped around her elbow and jerked her to a halt.
"We need to talk."
Looking into Ryan's gaze,
Erika felt her heart tighten. She wanted to scream at
him for buying her grandmother's painting, but the memory of how
much she used to love him held her silent.
Bitterness swirled around her as she pulled
away from him and opened the doors.
"If you want a chance at that painting,
you'll hear me out."
Erika almost didn't stop, but knowing how
heart broken her mother would be if she ever found out there was a
last chance to get the painting back, forced her to stop. Her
mother had taken the loss of her own mother just a few months
earlier very hard. It had renewed her determination that they find
and acquire all of her paintings.
"Meet me in the hallway in five minutes."
Nodding her head without looking back, Erika
stepped into the opening between the heavy oak doors and allowed
them to swing closed behind her. Pressing a palm against her chest,
she could feel her heart racing. She managed to drop into one of
the antique chairs that lined the hallway, her mind whirling with
thoughts about what Ryan could want.
Devastatingly handsome, born into a wealthy
family, Ryan still had a down-to-earth quality about him. Part of
that was thanks to his father's determination that his son not grow
up thinking the world owed him anything. Ryan had once confessed,
their bodies still glistening with sweat and the juices of their
shared passion, that he owed his old man for that. He appreciated
everything he had.
Unfortunately, a few months later, Erika knew
it had all been a lie. He hadn't appreciated her. Clenching her
fingers, she could still feel the coldness wash over her body as
she had held the newspaper article announcing Ryan's upcoming
marriage to a socialite friend of the family. He had always
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