Destroy (Sordid 2.5)

He was going to make love to me, right here in his bathroom. I saw the hungry look in his eyes, and my body responded eagerly to it. I’d enjoy the sex, too, as I always did. We had similar needs in art and sex. I gripped the sides of my long skirt in my hands and began to furl the fabric upward, granting him access beneath.

The night we’d met, he’d destroyed me just as badly as the sculpture. My work had come out better after that dark event, shaped and crafted under Luke’s watchful eye. He pushed my artistic boundaries and yet had patience to let me find my way with a piece. He wasn’t dominating, but I understood who my master was.

Luke fumbled with his pants as he prepared to claim me. It’d be intense and passionate as we celebrated our success, and I suspected my hands would smear on the mirror glass, reflecting blurry images back at us. I’d moan and scream and come, and afterward I tell him how much I loved him.

He was a villain, but so was I.

I’d had two glasses of champagne at the showing, and my inhibitions were lowered. I wanted to know the answer to the question I was always too nervous to ask, worried I wouldn’t get the answer I hoped for. Tonight, I finally had the courage.

“Of everything you’ve done over the years,” I said, catching my breath when his hands were on my hips, “which piece are you the proudest of?”

“Hmm?” The tip of him rubbed against me, seeking entrance.

He’d heard me, I was sure. He wanted me to ask it again. My voice faltered. “What’s your greatest creation?”

“Oh, that’s easy.” He pushed inside, taking me in a deep thrust which made my toes curl. “It’s you, Nikita.”

I smiled darkly.