Page 41 of Wicked Design
Chapter Eleven
Clover had to admit Van Gogh’s idea for designer handcuffs wasn’t half bad, though not completely unique. There were already furry sets available, along with ones sporting rhinestones, those in Valentine heart shapes, and even pairs where diamond-cut chains replaced steel to resemble bracelets. However, during her research she hadn’t found one pair that was totally uncommon yet BDSM sexy and easy on the eyes. After all, a sub had to look good for her Dom.
She pushed her other projects aside and worked feverishly on her initial designs for Clover Cuffs. That meant barricading herself in her apartment and not letting anything distract her. Especially Van Gogh. When he was around, her brain couldn’t function normally. Too much adrenaline, dopamine, and serotonin ate away any thoughts not centered on him.
He didn’t do cartwheels about her decision for temporary solitude, but he was mellow when they video-chatted. Him bare-chested. Her, too.
Like tonight.
He scratched his belly then dipped south to his fly and shrugged. “No need to keep apologizing. I isolate myself when I start something new. Comes with the territory. Do that again.”
She flicked her nipples. “Now you.”
“What? I simply took a breath.” He pulled in another. “Happy?”
“Hardly. You’re playing with your balls…or maybe your cock.” She pushed up, trying to see lower.
“That’s not going to help your line of sight.”
As if she hadn’t already found out. She slumped in her chair. “Speaking of your paintings.”
“Were we?”
“You mentioned territory and starting something new. I want to see your old and current stuff. Shoot me some photos.”
He leaned in to the screen and stared at her boobs. “That might be a problem. Rub your clit. Send me a selfie with you doing that and plucking your nipples.”
“Only if you play with yourself and send me what you’re doing. I want your balls and cock in every condition. Erect and at rest.”
“That’s impossible at the same time.”
“Yeah, I know.” She crossed her arms covering her small breasts. “Show me yours in all conditions and I’ll show you mine.”
He groaned. “Why the before and after shots? Please don’t tell me you’re going to design jewelry from that.”
She touched his lips on the screen. “Never entered my mind till now. Thanks for the idea. They’d make great earrings. The long one on the left ear, the shriveled-up one on the right.”
He bowed his head.
Men were such strange creatures. Say anything remotely negative about their equipment and they fell apart. “Why is it a problem?”
“You’re seriously asking that?”
“I meant sending me photos of every oil you’ve done. Not the stuff you’ve sold. I understand why you couldn’t do that. But what about the other paintings you’re still trying to move?”
“Still being the operative word.”
She patted the screen where his cheek was. “I’d like to see them. Email me your portfolio.”
“That’s my most saleable work, in my opinion, but not everything I’ve done. That stuff’s wall-to-wall in my bedroom.”
“No kidding?” A great reason for him to invite her to his place. “Are any of them of me?”
“They’re from before I first saw you.”
She hoped they weren’t of other women. Although she was too blunt at times, she didn’t have enough courage to ask about his pre-Clover liaisons. “Did you paint still lifes? Landscapes? People?” Hopefully, he was too shy to mention former girlfriends to her.
“I’ve done everything you said. Mainly images that caught my attention. I played around with them, making each my version of reality. Lucky for the subjects they never saw them.”
