Fifty Shades of Dorian Gray Read Online Free PDF Page A

hard. And it was no secret that her husband was wildly unfaithful and frequented brothels without shame.
    Rosemary carried on with her painting, but Dorian’s posture was caving ever so slightly. Helen’s words were coaxing him.
    â€œRosemary, I am tired of standing,” he said. “I must go out and sit in the garden.”
    â€œMy dear Dorian, I am so sorry. When I am painting, I can’t think of anything else,” said Rosemary. Only since meeting him was that statement untrue , she thought. “You never sat better,” she said, though her affect was bland. Really she was just complimenting him to avoid the distress of Helen. “You were perfectly still. And I have caught the effect I wanted—the half-parted lips and the bright look in the eyes. I suppose whatever compliments Helen has been paying you have been effective. But you mustn’t believe a word she says.”
    â€œShe has certainly not been paying me compliments,” Dorian asserted. “Perhaps that is the reason that I don’t believe anything she has told me.”
    Rosemary laughed—too loudly—such racket the relief in her heart in seeing Dorian doubt Helen. But Helen was not going to let the mood stay in Rosemary’s favor. She looked up with dreamy, languorous eyes.
    â€œI will go out into the garden with you,” she offered. “It is horribly hot in the studio. Rosemary, why don’t you fix us something iced to drink? Something with strawberries in it?”
    Rosemary was infuriated. Calm , she told herself. You must not show her how she gets to you. That will only empower her .
    â€œCertainly, Helen. Just touch the bell, and when Parker comes I will tell him what you want. I have got to work on this background, so I will join you later on. Don’t keep Dorian too long. I have never been in better form for painting than I am today. This is going to be my masterpiece. It is my masterpiece as it stands.”
    Dorian stretched to loosen his limbs—he loathed keeping still for so long. When he arched his back, there was emphasis on his lean, strapping chest. The muscles of his abdomen rippled under his thin white shirt. Rosemary watched with that funny feeling creeping between her thighs, whetting a mysterious appetite. Some hidden nerve shook in her nether regions. The lips there trembled and longed for a real kiss.
    Helen watched Dorian with cunning approval, then got up and strode out into the garden, brushing against his shoulder. Dorian did not so much as glance at Rosemary as he turned around and followed Helen out. Like a puppy whose toy has been taken, Rosemary began to follow them, not sure who at this point—Dorian or Helen—was her master.
    The screen door slammed in her face, as the two, by now chummy comrades, continued into the garden, laughing at Helen’s private joke.
    â€œI suppose I can work on the background,” Rosemary muttered.

CHAPTER III
    T hough the afternoon was winding down and the sun fading behind the horizon, a palpable heat stirred in the air. Helen sat high on the wicker bench, seeming without a care in the world, but beneath the heap of frilled skirts, her legs lounged open. Sweat trickled down her thighs, and the heat was palpable between them. She ached to be touched and pumped her thighs discreetly, maneuvering the hot, still air.
    Dorian seemed to sense Helen’s erotic sampling of the weather. He started and drew back. Helen caught a look of fear in his eyes, such as people have when they are awakened. She clasped her hands over her petticoats, against her crotch, allowing some pressure—there had been such a need for attention since she had laid eyes on him. A luxurious sigh escaped her lips as her hooked thumbs fitted against her clenched center. Her inviting gesture and the subdued animal sound that accompanied it caused Dorian to fidget and fumble for a distraction. He buried his nose in the bushel of lilacs