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Excerpt from
Painted SoulPuzzola with his usual cool exterior was outside leaning against the wall when the brothers exited Elizabeth’s gallery. The flash of lightening and rumble of thunder reflected the storms churning inside him. He was balancing on a thin line. The plan was in motion.
“I’m trusting you with my sister, friend,” Michael said, meeting Puzzola with a cold stare as lightening flashed again in the distance.
Erick palmed a key to the dark figure, “Oh, she’s mad at us!” Then he leaned closer to whisper, “Good luck.”
Puzzola nodded to his friends before slipping inside. The plan called for elevating Elizabeth’s emotions to the same level she had experienced that memorable night while dancing in The Place. Tonight they would finish what they started, both releasing years of pent up emotion. The lightning lit up the empty gallery showing him the stairs, but he could not miss the mind-blowing music full of hard driving guitar riffs and unbelievable energy. From personal experience, he knew Elizabeth was on an escapist trip. Drugs or alcohol could never take a person close to the trip an artist takes while working intensely on a piece. Pausing at the top stair, he tried to slow down his breathing.
Slowly, he peered into the studio like a peeping Tom, but wasn’t prepared for the sight. With her hair flowing freely over her shoulders Elizabeth danced in the candlelight holding a paintbrush and wearing only a thin camisole and thong panties. She raised her arms over her head in a graceful gesture swaying her hips to the sexual groove blasting from the speakers. Her smell filled his nostrils, his hunger for her intensifying as he struggled for control.
Elizabeth was definitely caught up in the mood of the candles, music and emotion. When she finally turned and saw him standing in the doorway, she stopped dancing, still holding her paintbrush. Puzzola met her gaze, smiled as he shrugged his shoulders and boldly stepped into the room. Sexual tension in the air was thicker than the paint on the pallet.
“Hello, my lady,” his voice thick and sensual.
She stood breathless, still in shock. Here he was, in her studio. “How did you get in here?”
“Someone thought I might need this,” he placed a key on a table. “I wanted to thank you personally for coming to my opening. But I’m sorry if you found some of my work disturbing.”
“You were there.”
“Yes. I enjoy listening to my work being analyzed,” he moved effortlessly around the room sending her sultry glances. “It’s a fun little game I play with my critics.”
“I’m sure Painted Soul will get you committed.”
“Committed to whom?”
He was the most delicious man she had ever seen. Taller than she remembered and more masculine than the clean cut punk with two-tone hair she met so long ago. Yet he still held a mysterious power over her. In his black clothing, he moved like a panther. She shivered thinking of the image in “Painted Soul.”
“Nice work,” he complimented as he looked at the painting. His eyes momentarily narrowed then flashed back to Elizabeth.
Puzzola held out a hand to her, she saw the scar across his palm and the gold band on his thumb. Her heart pounding, she touched it. Upon her hand, she wore a thumb ring she purchased shortly after meeting him. Puzzola rubbed his thumb against hers with a slow stroking motion. Cat-like he moved until they touched palm to palm and stood chest to chest, staring into each other’s eyes. Elizabeth’s heart pounded to the beat of the provocative music. Emotions and memories filled her mind. She wanted him more than ever.
“Do you want me to be here, Elizabeth?” Puzzola asked in a husky voice.
In a daring move, she touched his check remembering the two black painted stripes long gone, then traced his jaw line with her fingertips. Her throat felt dry, as she caressed the face that haunted her dreams. She couldn’t believe he was real, but she could feel his heat. Elizabeth saw the raw hunger in his eyes reflecting what she felt.
“Yes,” she answered with little more than a whisper, “very much.”
Like the lightening outside, Puzzola quickly moved her into his arms and pressed hard against her. His carefully planned night was unraveling, he was losing composure. His emotions were taking control. He had to devour his ravishing tormentor and make the pain inside his soul subside. She would be his, tonight.
“I have made time stop for us tonight. You will not get away from me this time,” he whispered in her ear. He felt her melt into his arms as his body gyrated against hers in time with the music. “Welcome to our fantasy. Open your mind let your wishes come true. I am here, Elizabeth, flesh and blood to set you free. I will be whatever you want me to be. I am all your dreams and your worst nightmare in one. Release me only when you are ready to begin your reverie.”
Elizabeth pressed against him, tilted her head back with closed eyes as a small moan escaped from her lips. Her body begged to be touched, to feel the burn. She needed him to wipe away those lost years without him. He cupped her face with his fiery hands, forcing her eyes to open. His eyes burned into her then they rolled back when she ran her hands across his torso and along his sides, feeling the sculpted muscles beneath the silk fabric of his shirt. She could hear his struggled breathing and feel his rapid heartbeat. Pleased with her affect on him, she continued her movements.
His eyes opened as he caressed her throat with his fingers and brought his hand down her chest across her breast. Elizabeth thought her heart would leap out of her chest when his hand stroked her body as if inspecting, then finally resting on the small of her back. His other hand slid behind her head. A soft purr escaped from her as he tangled his fingers in her hair. Elizabeth closed her eyes, breathing hard, tipped her head back desirous for a kiss.
Pulling her close Puzzola nuzzled her check, “You have haunted my dreams. I can not believe I am finally holding my specter. I have wanted you so long.”
His mouth came down on hers in desperate need. Heat churned inside her as she answered back with the same desperation. Flames of passion and desire spread to inferno.
“Dream lover,” she touched his check and he turned his face to place a kiss in her palm, “take me where I want to be.”
Hearing the repeated promise of long ago, Puzzola smiled, “Oh, my lady.”
Lightening flashed, thunder rolled and rain began to pound on the roof. The music, the candles, Puzzola lost all control as the need to be released from the burning desire peaked. In a swift movement he pulled the camisole off Elizabeth’s body, exposing soft round breasts to the glowing candlelight. He picked her up with his hands under her, pushed her back against a wall and covered her neck with fervent kisses. She gasped and arched against him as he sucked a sensitive nipple into his mouth. Puzzola groaned as she ran her fingers through his hair. He took her mouth in a deep, possessive kiss as he pulled off her panties. The kiss stopped when they both were breathless. Looking into her eyes, he was lost.
“You are so beautiful, my lady,” he murmured, “I want to taste your sweetness.”
“Puzzola,” Elizabeth whimpered as she placed a hand on his face.
“I am here,” he said as he trailed kisses down her neck.
He buried his face into the softness of her chest, his tongue flicked at her nipples and traveled down across her flat belly. He dropped to one knee, cupped her butt and moved her legs over his shoulders.
Elizabeth didn’t pay any notice to the cold wall on her back. The fire within her blazed. Bracing her back on the wall she twisted her fingers in his silky black hair. She was floating in air consumed by the emotions and sensations she was feeling. His touch pushed her higher, she thought she was on her way to heaven. His fingers probed her as his tongue tickled the silken folds, she cried out his name in sheer pleasure.
Not stopping his kisses, he gently moved her legs down and rose while she tugged at the stays of his pants. Elizabeth was amused when she found there was nothing between this man and his leather pants as she reached to release his throbbing manhood. His pulsating erection felt like velvet in her hands. Puzzola’s tremble and muffled groan told her of his struggle.
He leaned forward with both hands on the wall as she touched him. With the next clap of thunder he reached under her butt and roughly lifted Elizabeth and braced her against the wall. He had to become one with her. Elizabeth cried out in pleasurable surprise as he thrust inside her. Puzzola paused for a moment to allow her to become accustomed to him, but when he felt her muscles milking him, he couldn’t hold back any longer. With vicious ferocity he pushed Elizabeth to cry out in ecstasy before he exploded inside her.
Still inside her, holding her tightly he slid to his knees. The burning need did not decrease, his pulse continued to race.
He let out a shaken laugh, “Erick said you would bring me to my knees.”
“I’m not through with you yet,” Elizabeth felt a surge of newfound energy. Standing, she tugged hard at Puzzola’s shirt, buttons flying in all directions while nibbling on his ear.
She couldn’t help but stare at him once he had shed the rest of his clothing. His sculpted body called to her touch. The Painted Soul towered over her, his chest wet with sweat, all muscles tense and hard from their last workout. His black hair fell over his forehead and into his eyes. He flashed a lusty smile at her.
Elizabeth remembered the night they met and the way he smiled when she was caught staring at him. This time she kissed the lips beckoning to her, showing him her flaming passion. Her tongue stroked his, her teeth tugged at his lower lip. Feeling daring and wanting more, she became more adventurous.
“Let’s make a fantasy real,” she taunted as she kicked a large roll of canvas into unraveling across the studio floor. Elizabeth took Puzzola by the hand and led him to the center. His eyes glimmered with recognition of her plan.
“I hope you’re planning to use acrylic paint on this canvas,” his eyes never leaving her body while his smile only grew larger.
“Certainly,” Elizabeth presented him with a basket full of brightly colored tubes of acrylic paint.
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This yummy fellow looks like my character Chet Keller.
This would be the young Duncan McAlister in Fortunate Soul.
This has to be the body of Michael McAlister.
Erick McAlister can seduce a woman with a whisper.
Steve Keller is a man hard to catch, but when you do... lick him all over.
Rob Ashton.RIP. I wanted him for the Painted Soul cover.
The Painted Soul
Puzzola's intense sexiness was the result of watching Queen of the Damn way too much.
I'm a little tongue tied with this one.
Trent was the inspiration for Trevor Dillinger.
My muse.
My muse put his wings away and helped decorate for the holiday.
Uhm.... you'll have to excuse me now.
