CHAPTER THIRTY

|•| ANDRÉ BAUDELAIRE |•|

I had toured the world for a century to conclude that there were only two things I considered gripping enough to be termed beautiful. A splash of different colours of paint on an artist's canvas and nature. They were unrivalled until she came into the picture.

It should be labelled as a form of sorcery how I was taken by the sight of her all sprawled on my bed that was covered in black satin sheets, clad in the silk lavender thin-strapped nightwear that Ophelia had begrudgingly changed her into after she fell asleep last night. The dress looked like it was made solely for her, clinging to her body in a way that rendered me jealous of the fabric.

Due to how much she must have tossed around, it rode dangerously up her thigh and I didn't make any attempt to adjust it because it was such an erotic sight. The strap of the nightie was falling off her shoulder, revealing her neck and shoulder blade that was sparsely covered by her hair, which had taken a somewhat gol