Page 68 of This Life and All the Rest
Her lips are needy and soft, opening for me immediately, and I want to consume all of her.
She moans into my mouth and her fingers fist into my shirt, digging her nails into my abs. I reach behind her and take the ribbon from the end of her braid, then wrap the braid around my fist, pulling just enough to tilt her head back, to put her at my mercy.
I use my other hand to grab onto her waist, letting myself finally touch that expanse of skin that was tempting me minutes earlier and mark it with slick clay.
Our tongues tangle, hurried but not as rushed as last time. There’s no clacking of teeth, no animalistic collision of bodies. No self-loathing. Just lust and desire and Macon and Lennon.
Just her and me.
Lennon pulls me with her as she walks backward until she’s running into the drawing table. Water sloshes and a jar clanks. Something clatters to the floor.
She throws her hand back to catch herself just as I lift her up and sit her on the table. I slide my hands up her torso, groaning when I find that she’s not wearing a bra under her shirt. She gasps, and I palm her breasts, my dick throbbing with the desire to see her naked body covered in the clay from my hands.
She claws at my back and at my hair, moaning softly as I kiss down her face and neck. She brings her hand to my head, sliding cool, slick fingers from my face into my hair, bringing the distinct scent of fresh watercolor paints.
She pushes my shirt up, and I lean back, just enough to pull it the rest of the way over my head. She slides her hands down my torso and up to my biceps, leaving cold streaks in her wake.
I tug her shirt over her head and kiss down her collarbone. She arches her back, pressing her chest into me, and I close my lips around one of her taut nipples, rolling my tongue around the metal piercing.
Fuck, this fucking piercing. So damn sexy.
She whimpers and drops her head back, and the sound drives me crazy.
I want to eat her pussy while she’s laid out on my drawing desk.
I reach for the waistband of her shorts, and she widens her legs, but when she does that, her knee bumps into one of her water jars and it falls to the floor.
Water splashes our feet, and Lennon and I break apart.
We’re both panting and shirtless, eyes wide with surprise, when we take in the mess we’ve created, and we both start laughing at the same time.
Paint is smeared all over the desk from where Lennon’s hands must have landed to support herself. Brushes are scattered on the floor. And our bodies...
“You’re covered in clay,” I say with a grin, my voice rough. My eyes want to stay glued to her fucking perfect breasts, but I keep them on her face. She laughs at me, not even bothering to try and hide her nakedness.
“You’re covered in paint,” she counters.
I reach up and wipe at my face, and sure enough, my hand is covered in green and blue paint when I pull it back.
I glance down at my chest to see handprints smeared all over my skin. I can see exactly where Lennon’s fingers were, where she grabbed and scratched in her need for me.
I look at her body to find the same, but with clay, where I touched her with my hands, and paint, where our bodies connected.
Sensual, sexy, erotic fucking art.
My cock aches, and I have to palm it over my joggers. Her breath hitches, and I glance up to find her eyes locked on my hand. I squeeze, and she whispersyes.
“I want to watch you,” she says, and my heart stops. “I want to watch you touch yourself.”
“Yeah?” I say, swallowing hard before giving my cock a pump over my joggers. “Like this?”
“No,” she says, shaking her head. “Take it out.”
I do as she wants, then run my fist over my hard cock, stroking it a few times before squeezing the head. I hiss at the feeling, at the way she’s staring, pupils huge and mouth agape, watching me touch myself to thoughts of her.
“You want to watch me beat my cock, Lennon?”
“Yes,” she says, eyes never leaving my hand. “What are you thinking about?”
