Chapter 11

She'd watched the entire time. In her reflection in the window, she saw herself orgasm for the first time in her life. She'd watched the pleasure build and build and build and when the waves of release crashed over her, she finally saw herself - the woman in the drawing, beautifully enjoying the exquisite explosion of pleasure that had consumed her. It had been breathtaking. Literally.

Ellie finally closed her eyes, trying to regain control of her breathing and her body that had spiraled up and burst out of control.

Deep breaths, in and out.

She let her breaths calm her, something that she was proficient at after having gone through rounds of chemo – a time when she had also felt that her body had been spiraling out of control, potentially towards destruction. This time, though, that same sense of helplessness, was exhilarating, pleasurable, and addictive.

She wanted more.

It wasn't the pleasure that she found herself craving; well, she was craving that too, but it wasn't what she yearned for most. It was what that pleasure had brought out in her – the sense of confidently knowing that she was beautiful; that, in that moment, her body was no longer damaged and deformed from the cancer or its treatment. Even if her mind was still suffering with the lingering effects of self-doubt, of seeing things, of seeing herself has she used to be, and not how she was now. In that moment, all doubt had been obliterated from her thoughts. She'd been beautiful, she'd been desirable, she'd been free.

And he had wanted her.

Tristan's face, when he had watched her, and afterward when she assumed that he had orgasmed, too, only heightened her need to experience this again. He'd been as consumed as she was. She saw it in his eyes, on his face, felt it the way that he touched and pleasured it; everything that he'd made her feel, only amplified his pleasure.

In spite of all the other the other women that had most definitely come before her, in spite of all of his other options that he could have chosen for this project, he'd picked her. She hadn't believed that he could really want her like that, but when she saw his face in the window, she knew how wrong she was. He had tried, but he'd failed at controlling himself. She'd barely touched him, and only indirectly through their clothes, and it had been enough to send him over the edge.

She didn't know much, but she knew that that didn't happen every day.

Goosebumps covered her skin at the thought of what Tristan must have been imagining in order to draw her like that. How could he have known what she could feel? How those emotions would play out on her face?

Maybe because he did this a lot.

The thought dampened her hope, a sign that her self-doubt was working its way back out as her body returned back to Earth, as it seemed that his was doing as well.

Ellie kept her eyes closed for a moment longer, her head back resting against his shoulder, relishing in the solid heat of his body behind her; the warm support giving her strength to stand, otherwise she was sure she would collapse in exhaustion.

She felt him slowly and tendering slide his hand back out of her underwear and jeans, managing to refasten them single-handedly. His other hand, gently caressed her breast for a few aching seconds, his touch reluctant to part with the soft and enticing flesh. Finally releasing the sensitive mound, he readjusted her bra to right, his hand gently falling down over her stomach to come and rest on her hip.

She felt his steady breathing on her neck, his lips placing one last, tender kiss on the sensitive skin of her neck before he began to pull away from her.

"Why don't we sit down?" he whispered in her ear, feeling how she swayed back against him with the loss of his support.

Reluctant to end this incredible moment, Ellie moaned before raising her head and eyelids. Her perfectly sated gaze meeting the deep, golden amber of his. Suddenly, she felt slightly embarrassed by what she'd just experienced with him – almost a total stranger. Ducking her head with what she hoped would appear as a semblance of a nod, she shuffled her way back over to the couch with Tristan's support, trying to hide the blush that had returned to her cheeks.

What had she been thinking, throwing herself at him like that?

Tristan eased her back down onto the couch where she had been sitting before. He brought over a blanket, and Ellie realized that she'd inadvertently crossed her arms as though she were cold.

"Relax for a minute, I'll be right back with some food," he said softly, with a gentle smile as he walked off into his bedroom, the door closing partially behind him.

She reached for the glass of water still on the table, taking several large sips when she realized just how thirsty she was. When she set the glass back on the table, she noticed the sketchbook laying on the floor where she had dropped it earlier. Picking it up, of course it was still open to the sketches of her, with the expressions that she'd just realized herself capable of making. She quickly flipped the book shut, the images heightening her embarrassment and concern.

As well as her shocking desire to create those emotions again. As soon as possible.