“I can’t stand the idea of someone else getting a glimpse of your magnificent body.” He palms my tits, roughly, tentatively. When he pinches my nipples, I cry out. “And if you gain weight, lose weight, dye your hair, shave your head, or change in anyway, I want a portrait of it. I want all of you. All your phases, all your transitions.” He bites down on my shoulder, making my toes curl. “I want to see your belly round with my baby. I want to kiss your stretch marks. I want to take care of you when you’re exhausted and even when you’re full of energy and life. I want to pop into your studio
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