Bartered Betrayal - The Billionaire's Wife 08 by Ava Lore

Author:Ava Lore
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 2012-11-29T04:35:47+00:00

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Sculpting takes a while. A long while. Clay is a very warm medium, very responsive. Every interaction you have with it is preserved. Even when you're beating it to death with a two-by-four.

I worked naked except for a pair of panties. A little nod to Anton's command, telling me never to wear underwear again. Well, I'd goddamn wear underwear if I felt like it, and I did feel like it. More specifically, I didn't feel like getting clay stuck in my snatch.

But I still thought of Anton while I worked. Not necessarily the beating of the clay, but the sheer physicality of the task I'd set before me put me in mind of other physical activities. Wet clay slithered under my hands as I smoothed it out. With every pound and hard push, it responded to me, the way Anton did.

Every time I had to climb on top of my sculpture, I thought of Anton. I thought of riding his face, of riding his cock. I thought about him when I had to straddle my creation and push it into new shapes, my clay-covered ass in the air. I'd presented myself to him this way, and he had taken me without thinking twice about it. I remembered the feel of his hands on my hips, his cock in my pussy. I remembered how raw and animal we were, and I channeled it. Slowly, surely, my work began to take shape, and I knew even before it became recognizable that it was the best work I'd ever done.

I left my blinds up and turned the lights on in my apartment while I pounded clay. Not my favorite way to work, but definitely the only way to let Jake take pictures without alerting everyone that we were in collusion. I leaned out the window when I became so hot and covered in sweat that I couldn't take it any more, my body burning with effort and memories. I didn't bother to put clothes on. The world had already seen me. It wasn't like I was giving anyone a show who didn't want it. Besides, I worked mostly at night so Jake could get the best light from inside my apartment, so it wasn't like I was walking down the street with my tits hanging out in broad daylight.

I slept on my mattresses when I was too tired to work any more. I washed my mouth out with water, ate blocks of dry noodles, and stared into space, reliving the past three weeks.

Anton invaded my head even when I wasn't thinking about him. I'd stretch out, trying to work the kinks from my back, and I would remember the way his hands felt as they massaged away my tension. It didn't matter what the tension was over—even if it was over him and his insatiable needs—just his touch calmed me. I'd been addicted to him, and now that I was doing my detox, I started to see how unhealthy we had been.

And yet I still missed it.

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