Devin
Devin walked quickly into the restrooms at the end of the gallery, avoiding the advances of all several people who had hoped to chat as he passed by them. He entered a stall and locked the door behind him. Inside, he remained standing, placing his hands on the shut door and breathing deeply.
He wasn’t quite sure why his heart was racing. And why he was so embarrassed by telling Camille the truth about the charity. There was nothing wrong with donating to a charity, in fact, he was certain that Camille’s kind heart would be impressed by it. And yet, he didn’t want to tell her, not yet.
Devin pressed his eyes tightly shut and tried to regain an even breath. He donated to the Association of No-Kill Dogs, a charitable organization run by a small team of dog lovers who tried to home and re-home dogs left at pounds who were about to be put down. There was nothing wrong with the charity, but he slowly realized why he was so afraid of telling Camille about it - she would have questions, and he was not ready yet to tell her about his life, and explain why he had such a soft spot for dogs.
As Devin’s eyes remained closed, an image of his father floated in his head. Devin gritted his teeth. His emotions for his father were mixed. He respected the man and valued the hard lessons that he taught him as a child, which allowed Devin to become the person he was now. But there were also parts of the man Devin could never figure out.
At their farm in Pennsylvania, a pair of dogs had wandered onto the property, and Devin had watched his father shoot them right between their eyes with his old shotgun before dragging the limp bodies into the shed and burying them.
His father had grunted an explanation when Devin had asked him why he shot the dogs.
“They trouble the sheep,” his father had said, paying no heed to the torn emotions of his seven-year-old son. Devin had never asked again or tried to stop his father. The man was bigger, stronger, and had the strength of his convictions. But at that moment, Devin had decided that he would do everything he could, when he grew up, to save the dogs, and try and atone for his father’s cold-hearted sins.
Yet Devin loved his father, even though he witnessed his mother’s misery. Even though he saw every day that his mother suffered because she felt unloved, yearning for her husband’s touch and affection. But his father worked tirelessly on the land, returning home only for his dinner and for the warmth of the bed at night, while his mother waited on him.
They were both gone now, and Devin could never be entirely certain if he were anything like either of them. Well, he was definitely not like his mother, soft spoken, obedient, and entirely devoted to a husband who had never even so much as touched her hand after Devin was born. But was he like his father? Did he only care about his own success? Only about work? Was his heart made of steel?
Devin shook his head and opened his eyes, and stared at the locked door of the bathroom stall. Was that why he liked dogs and animals more than people? Because, like his father, he could never get close to any human being?
The faces of women he had slept with then floated up in front of his eyes. All the women who had thrown themselves at him, who he had spent only a night with, and the ones he had pushed away. So he was exactly like his father, Devin admitted to himself in the silence and the dim light of the restroom. Was he going to hurt Camille? Would Camille, like his mother, remain silent and suffering all her life with a man who couldn’t show her affection?
Devin hit the door with the base of his palm. He wasn’t sure why he was so angry. Nothing had happened. He had simply frozen when Camille asked him about the charity. He could tell her if he wanted to, and perhaps she would think nothing of it. But a part of him wanted to explain, a part of him told him that he owed her an explanation; to warn her what she might be getting herself into and that she might be better off staying away from him.
The dogs that his father had killed and all the dogs that his donated money helped protect were symbols. They were symbols of the burden of being his father’s son. Devin was who he was because of the lessons his father had taught him. Was it in his nature, therefore, to not be able to love wholeheartedly? To not love a good woman?
Devin unlocked the stall door and walked out towards the mirrors that lined the back wall of the restroom. He splashed his face with cold water and enjoyed the tingling sensation of the drops evaporating from his face.
Despite all the demons of his past that he was fighting against, the one thing he was sure of was that he wanted to be with Camille again. He wanted to see her face, watch her blue eyes smile, and her blonde curls shake with her innocent laughter. It was getting harder for him to stay away from her; even a few minutes felt like a lifetime. So he did what his father would never have done, he walked back into the gallery and looked around until he found her standing alone underneath a photograph, admiring it with her sad, sullen eyes.
“What are you thinking?” he asked as he walked up behind her, and traced the curve of her neck with his forefinger. He could feel the goosebumps appear on her flesh under his fingertip.
Camille turned to him, her cheeks blushing. He had caught her thinking about him.
“I was admiring your picture - how calm and satisfied you look. Evangeline does a good job of capturing you in your best moments,” Camille said and reached for his face. He hadn’t expected her to; he had expected her to be shy around him, to blush and look away, but there was a sudden conviction in her voice and bravery on her face. She was not going to back down.
He remembered the way her body felt, how small and gentle she was, and how her breasts were big and voluptuous in his hands. He could feel himself stir just from the way she was looking intently at him.
“I think I’m an open book. I’m easy to read,” Devin replied, as she pulled her hand away, but kept her gaze on his face. Camille smiled and then laughed, and Devin felt like he was falling deeper in love with her. She had forgotten and forgiven his behavior when she had asked him about the charity. He appreciated it; she wasn’t pushy.
“You’re anything but easy to read, Devin Rock,” Camille said in a soft, seductive voice and she leaned in towards him. Devin smiled and dug his hands into the pockets of his jeans. He could spend the whole night just staring at her face.
“But I could give it a shot,” Camille added with one raised eyebrow, and Devin looked at her face, confused. He couldn’t quite understand what she meant by that.
“I could try and draw you, and see if I can capture you for yourself,” she explained, and Devin sighed. He hadn’t expected that from her either. Until now, Camille had been so protective of her art; the last thing he expected was for her to offer to draw him. But Devin was flattered, excited, and wanted to see her in her element.
“Are you serious?” He was unable to keep the excitement out of his voice. Camille laughed again, this time more sweetly, and then she nodded excitedly too.
“It could be fun. I haven’t done a live portrait before. Who knows, maybe we could both learn something new.”
They both looked at each other, and Devin watched as she licked her lips.
“Tonight? So that you don’t change your mind later,” he asked, and Camille shrugged her shoulders.
“Sure, if you’re not busy,” she said, and it was Devin’s turn to laugh. She was testing him, and he liked it.
“We can go back to my place together, and you can find a spot for us to sit and work together.” He grabbed her hand, pulling her close to him. He hadn’t thought this through, just minutes ago when he was in the restroom, he wasn’t sure if he should drag Camille into his life; if she deserved to be hurt and put in harm’s way. But now he was inviting her to his place, plunging her deeper into his life. But Devin couldn’t help himself; he couldn’t resist Camille, not when she looked like this.
“I can see Shayna has found herself a ride,” Camille’s words interrupted his thoughts, and he followed her gaze. They watched Shayna together. She was standing with a drink in her hand in the corner, laughing loudly as a man leaned into her ear saying something.
“We can always drop her home first if she needs a ride,” Devin suggested, but Camille shook her head.
“I’ll go and ask her, don’t go anywhere.” She slipped her hand away from his and walking towards Shayna. She turned once to look back at him and smile, and Devin felt like he already missed her.
He could watch her talking to Shayna, laughing, looking over to him… and yet he felt like she was far away. He wanted to reach for her and drag her back to him. He couldn’t understand it: what this hold was that she had on him. He could have any woman he wanted, he could fuck anybody, and yet all he wanted to do was hold Camille’s hand.
She had started to walk towards him again, and they were both smiling at each other. Groups of people got in her way, and she had to walk around them until she was finally only a few feet away. Devin couldn’t wait, he took a few long strides and then he was kissing her.
His hand traveled to her waist, and he pushed her back as he held her close to his chest. Camille kissed him, but he could feel her lips stretched in a smile. Could she be just as happy as he was? Was it too quick to be this happy and comfortable in each other’s presence? Didn’t she detest him for bringing the Choppers to her store? Wasn’t she afraid of his lifestyle? And jealous of his naked pictures on display?
Devin breathed in her scent when they parted. Camille had her hands firmly planted on his arms for support and a smile on her face.
“Take me home, Devin, I can’t wait to draw you,” she uttered, and Devin straightened up.
“I can’t promise you artist’s material, but I can give you a pencil and a notebook to get started,” he replied, smoothing out his jacket.
“That’s all I’ll need tonight,” Camille told him, and before he knew it, she was leading the way out of the gallery.
Camille
Devin remained characteristically quiet on the drive to his house, while Camille fidgeted in her seat in silence. She couldn’t believe any of this was actually happening. She had her doubts whether she would even see him again, and here she was in his car being driven to his house so she could sketch a portrait of him!
Where the car stopped was the last place she would have expected Devin’s house to be. Devin turned off the engine and unlocked the doors and Camille sat in silence again as she watched him walk around the front to open her door for her. The whole time, Camille couldn’t stop staring at the house that waited for them. The car was parked in a large driveway with a marble fountain overlooking the grounds of the house.
“Welcome to my humble abode,” Devin said with a laugh in his voice, because he could sense her surprise. This was not the kind of house she expected him to live in, and he definitely gave no clue that this was a house he owned.
Camille grabbed his hand and allowed herself to be led out.
“Devin… this place is magnificent.” She was fumbling with her words and dying to ask him how he had this much money and what kind of business he ran, but she knew better than to ask. She believed he would tell her more about his life in time.
The driveway was pebbled, and Camille walked with Devin, hand in hand towards the house. A flight of black marble steps greeted them, with an ornate brass banister. Camille touched the surface of the banister as she took small slow steps up towards the front door. She was still in awe.
Devin had let her hand go by now and walked quickly in front of her and fumbled around in his pocket for keys.
“You live alone here?” Camille asked, and Devin turned to her just before pushing the key through the lock on the door.
“Of course. Why?” He asked, and Camille smiled at him.
“It’s just strange to find you opening the door yourself. I was expecting a butler or someone,” she said, biting down on her lip. Devin shook his head and smiled.
“I don’t need a butler Camille. I don’t really need this house either.” He threw open the front doors.
Camille wasn’t expecting what happened next. A group of dogs jumped up on Devin, smothering him with wet licks and wagging tails. Devin nearly fell back from the force of the dogs. Camille squealed in surprise and delight at the sight.
She made a quick mental count - there were at least ten dogs jumping on Devin. Different breeds, but mostly all were mongrels, the kind of dogs who are found sad and discarded in the pound.
“Clearly you don’t need a butler,” Camille said, happiness overwhelming her at the sight of the greeting they were receiving. Devin looked like an entirely different person in their presence too. He was laughing, stroking their heads and clapping his hands.
“Okay, sit down children,” Devin said sternly, and on command all ten dogs sat down where they were, looking up at their master devotedly. Camille laughed again; these dogs were well trained.
“Good. Now, go!” he said, and the dogs turned and ran back into the house, paving a path for the two of them to follow.
Camille hadn’t realized that her hand was on her heart from the experience. A flood of good spirit had taken over her; she couldn’t remember the last time she had seen so many happy dogs in one place, all lovingly devoted to one man, the man she was falling in love with.
“Sorry if that scared you.” Devin finally turned to her, and Camille shook her head. Her face was flushed, and her eyes were wide and bright. She couldn’t contain her happiness.
“Not at all. I didn’t expect that, but your dogs are amazing,” Camille said, and Devin smiled too.
“Come on in,” he said and led the way for her.
Camille looked around as they entered the foyer. A large crystal chandelier hung over their heads, as Devin led her into a large beautifully decorated living room.
“This is the room I visit least. I don’t entertain very often,” Devin said, spreading his arms around him, while Camille took in the sights of the room they were in. It had heavy curtains on the windows, matching upholstery on the couches and chairs, and thick carpet under their feet. The walls were ivory white and had framed vinyl’s hanging as decorations. There were no photographs of Devin, none that bore any resemblance to the ones in the gallery anyway.
“What’s in there?” Camille asked when she caught sight of an open door at the end of the room. She turned to Devin, and he shrugged his shoulders.
“That’s my office. It’s a library and study basically,” he said, and Camille didn’t wait for him to lead the way, she walked straight to it. Something told her that Devin’s true self was hidden there.
This room surprised her as well by how untidy and messy it was. There were large wooden cupboards stuffed with books that lined the walls, a table in the center of the room with papers and files strewn all over it, forgotten mugs of coffee on the table, leather jackets hung from the backs of chairs, and food stains on the carpeted floor. Camille smiled and turned to Devin who had followed her and now stood by the door, looking embarrassed again.
“Sorry, I wasn’t expecting visitors,” he said, and Camille laughed.
“So this is the room you spend the most time in,” she commented rather than asked, and they both laughed.
“But you can’t sketch me here, we have to find you a different, better suited spot.” He crossed his arms while leaning on the doorframe. Camille stared at him, taken aback by the charm and casualness that Devin was displaying. She had never seen him more relaxed.
“Where do you think would be appropriate?”
Devin narrowed his eyes, trying to think. “I have an idea, follow me.”
And Camille did just that, with a skip in her step.
***
When Devin had led her to the basement, Camille wasn’t quite sure of what to expect. Why would he want her to sketch him in the basement? But then she saw and realized what he meant. The basement of this house was like no other she had seen before.
The basement was as large as the floor area of the house and had a rectangular well-maintained swimming pool in the center of it. Surrounding the pool was an impressive home gym, complete with treadmills, exercise bikes, weights, poles, etc. Camille’s heels clicked against the floor as she walked into the gym area, and towards the edge of the pool.
There were dim lights in the basement, but the pool was lit up so that a blue glow reflected on her face as she stood over it wondering how she had found herself here. Devin was nothing like she had imagined him to be. He didn’t live in a derelict one room dirty studio sharing with his other biker buddies. Devin Rock was actually a successful businessman, who lived in a big house alone with ten well-trained dogs.
“What do you think?” His voice interrupted her thoughts and Camille turned to find him standing, with his hands in his pockets. He had taken his leather jacket off so that his biceps were now visible, flexed and bulbous. She wanted to cling to him - to his chiseled torso whose outline was now visible underneath the thin material of his t-shirt.
His brown eyes were focused on her, his jaw was angular and sharp, his lips were small and pink, and his wavy, dark hair was brushed neatly to the side. Camille could feel herself growing wet immediately. They were finally alone again.
“This will do perfectly,” she said and stood in front of him.
“I got you the notebook and some pencils.” He pointed at where he had left them on a deck chair by the pool. Camille nodded and smiled. She was nervous around him again; nervous about whether she would be able to keep her composure.
“What do you want me to do?” Devin asked, and Camille gulped.
“Take off your shirt,” she blurted out before she could stop herself. Then she took a few steps back until her legs touched the chair. She sat down slowly, grabbing the notebook and the pencils in her hands. Her eyes remained on Devin. He didn’t appear to be as surprised by her words as Camille herself was.
He reached for the bottom of his shirt and peeled it off over his head and threw it on the ground.
Camille gulped again and pushed away the strands of curls that had fallen over her face. Devin’s torso was exactly the way she remembered it – a rock solid, chiseled, six-pack with a narrow muscular waist. His jeans hung low on his hips, and he stood with his legs apart, looking at her with a smile on his face.
Camille drew lines on the notebook, trying to get his frame sketched correctly on the page. But she couldn’t concentrate, not when he was standing half naked in front of her.
“Maybe take off your pants too,” she found herself saying, surprising herself again with the confidence in her voice. Devin obeyed her silently and with a smile on his face. He undid the buttons on his jeans and pulled them down. He wasn’t wearing any underwear, as she had suspected, and now stood fully naked in front of her.
His shoulders were straight and proud, as was his back. He wasn’t shy; he was confident. He could see the effect he had on her, but Camille tried to hide it. She crossed her brows and sketched more lines on the paper. Devin was the perfect candidate for art; Evangeline was right. Camille could feel her hands shaking as she tried to draw him. He was made of pure muscle and sharp angles, his eyes were dark and shiny, his hair was perfect, and his chest was wide and tough.
Camille pressed her thighs together because she could feel herself growing wetter. His hands were large as they rested on both his sides. He had simply done what she had asked him to do, silently and without question. He had stripped, but he had stayed on his side, making no move to come closer to her.
Camille wanted him to come closer, but he didn’t. He probably wanted her to yearn for him, to make her wait until she had no control over herself.
Only the scratch of Camille’s pencil on the paper made a sound, as she tried to keep her eyes on it.
When she looked up again, she caught Devin make a movement. He was taking his dick in his hands. Camille’s breath stopped in her throat. She had tried to avoid looking at his dick, but now he was holding it in his hands, stroking it gently while keeping his eyes on her. Camille pressed her legs tighter together.
Camille let the pencil drop from her hands, and allowed her hand to wander to her chest. Her fingers found the buttons on her white shirt, and she undid the top few buttons. She needed some air - she also wanted to touch her breasts, touch herself the way Devin was touching himself.
Camille’s mouth opened a little as she watched him. He was looking back at her, with no smile on his face, like all he could think about was her body.
Camille breathed in deeply when she saw that he was walking towards her.
“What are you doing to me, Camille Griffin?” He asked roughly when he reached her. She remained sitting on the chair, but he brushed the pencil and notebook off her lap and leaned down to kiss her. Camille welcomed his lips, engulfing his mouth with hers. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and he pulled her up with his sheer weight.
Their tongues were entwined, and she moaned softly, realizing that this is what it felt like to lose all control.
Devin had lifted her, and while he kissed her, she felt the zip at the back of her skirt being pulled down. He was undressing her. Her skirt fell down, and then his hands moved to her breasts. With one quick tug, the buttons on her shirt were popped off, they fell clanging on the floor, and her white silk blouse fell off her shoulders.
Devin’s hands went to her breasts as he kissed her, and she could also feel him moving her, slowly inching her towards the wall.
He pulled his mouth away from hers prematurely, and she wanted more.
“Turn around,” he ordered in a low guttural growl, and Camille did as she was told. She turned around and found herself facing the wall of his basement. Then his hands were on her waist, and he pulled her butt, and gently pressed the small of her back. He wanted her to bend down. He was going to take her with no preparation. He was apparently desperate for her.
Camille’s breathing roughened as she placed her hands widely spread apart on the wall. She bent down and felt his hands tug at her silk panties. His hands were large and warm, and he squeezed her butt and then slowly pulled them apart.
Camille breathed in sharply, but before she could make another move, he was inside her.
She screamed from the suddenness and the surprise of his dick sliding inside of her. She hadn’t realized how wet she actually was because he slid in easily, fitting inside her. His entire length. Devin groaned, and Camille moaned as well. It felt good, it felt too good, and she wanted more.
Devin pulled out, and then he thrust into her again. He was strong and forceful, and Camille moved her hips, inviting him in. Her eyes rolled back in her head, as she felt herself dripping wet. Devin pumped into her with increased speed, and she felt her body shake.
His hands had come around her body to find her breasts. He squeezed her nipples and then held her breasts as he pushed into her. Camille moaned loudly, and her voice echoed off the walls of the basement. He was relentless, pushing and pulling and thrusting. Their bodies shivered and squeaked. She could feel him inside her, reaching her core, and stroking her where she needed to be stroked.
“Devin!” she screamed his name, and when he placed his hands on her shoulders, she felt the pinch of his strength. He was pumping into her, over and over again and her legs were going weak. It was the kind of intense pleasure and pain that was too much for her. She knew she was going to cum; she was going to come hard. Her breasts were swinging, and Devin slammed into her.
“Come for me Camille, come for me,” she heard him say, and that was enough for her to be pushed over the edge. Her body shuddered as she felt her muscles release. She could feel the juices squirt, and she tried to straighten herself, but he kept her down. Camille screamed, moaned and allowed herself to be deeply satisfied. His hands were still on her shoulders but were now moving slowly to the back of her neck, then the top of her head.
“Good girl,” he murmured as her body began to relax. Camille was still shuddering from the force of her orgasm, while he remained behind her, still thrusting himself into her.
Then it was his turn. He bunched up her curls into his fist and increased the speed of his thrusts. Camille moaned again as he pumped, quicker and more forceful. He was so much bigger than her, so much stronger, she felt helpless… like a toy in his hands. And she screamed along with him as he came inside her. She could feel him shoot, ooze, and dribble inside her. His body shook with the power of the effect he had on her, his hands tightening their grip on her hair as he pushed into her.
Then he released her hair, and his hands traveled to the small of her back. She could hear him panting while he stroked her butt affectionately. Camille realized she was smiling. Her orgasms were getting more powerful every time she was with him, it was like she was a superhero from the comic books she read and wrote, and Devin Rock was the source of her energy.
He pulled out slowly and slapped her butt. It pinched her skin, but Camille couldn’t help but smile. Devin Rock had just fucked her. All the women in the gallery, all those women who drooled over his photographs, including Evangeline… none of them had him inside them tonight. Only she did.
“Don’t even think about putting your clothes back on just yet,” she heard him say when she slowly turned to look at him. Camille licked her lips that were dry now and smiled at him.
“But shouldn’t I finish sketching you?” She asked as she watched him walk back to the spot he was standing at when she was drawing him.
“C’mon, you can draw naked, can’t you?” He laughed, and Camille bit down on her lip.
This man was making her head spin.