Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
Ichabod centered a lump of clay on the wheel and started spinning it, nice and slow, wedging his elbow on his thigh to force the huge mass of wet earth to settle and do what he wanted.
Centrifugal force was a bitch, but it always let him know what was going on. He couldn’t necessarily see if things were off-center, but he never failed to feel it.
He sighed, forcing himself to focus on this, nothing else.
No kids.
No lover.
No asshole motherfucker who tried to take his kids.
Nothing but this right now.
He wet his hands again and started working the clay, pushing down with his fingers and drawing up, pushing down and drawing up, aligning the clay so it understood what he was asking it to become.
If only he was sure what he was wanting it to be.
Hell, that wasn’t true.
He did know what he needed it to do, though. He was asking the art to make things better—to give his body something to create so that his soul could relax.
Because he was furious.
His house was in disarray again. He had gotten everything to where he felt as if this was normal and right and good. And now that Rick motherfucker had rattled it.
Because what?
He wanted the ranch? Well, Rick couldn’t have the ranch.
And goddammit, if Ichabod had wanted to sell, he’d have sold the fucking ranch. He could. He could sell it and put the money away for the kids and then what? Go back to Denver? He didn’t think so.
He coned the clay up and down, and then slowly started building a vessel.
The work soothed him because he couldn’t think about all the shit. He had to think about the clay and how it felt and how it was responding and pushing and pulling. No one thought about how physical what he did for a living was. And that was okay. He sort of liked it.
Hell, he sort of loved it.
By the time he’d calmed down some, he was covered in clay and water from his elbows to his knees, and he was panting a little, his heart pounding.
That was one big phallic vase.
He chuckled, feeling way more… grounded. Ha.
“That might be the hottest thing I’ve ever seen, baby.”
Ellis’s voice made him jump, and he was glad he wasn’t touching the clay.
He glanced up and found himself breathing hard, sucking air, and his eyes dragged over Ellis’s body. His lover wore a pair of old, damn near see-through sweatpants, an old T-shirt, and his house shoes.
It was the hottest thing he’d ever seen.
Ichabod stood and pulled off his apron, letting it fall to the floor. He knew he was a mess. He didn’t care. The clay had taken a huge part of his stress, leaving him with adrenaline and need.
“Mmm. You gonna take off the rest, honey? It’s quiet in here. Nice and warm.” Ellis pulled the door shut, locked it.
He didn’t answer. He began to strip down, not even bothering to wash up. Ellis wanted him, he could have him like he was right now—covered in clay and in desperate need of contact.
No, not just contact. Not just anyone’s contact.
Ellis.
He needed Ellis to finish making this right. This cowboy had fixed things with Rick and had his back with all of this mess, and now he needed Ellis for one more thing tonight.
Ellis kicked off his slippers, then stripped down, flinging his clothes. His usually neat cowboy was fast, urgent, and his cock stood proud when he was naked.
Obviously he wasn’t the only one on fire, who needed reassurance and passion and love.
They crashed together, holding each other up as they swayed. Ellis kissed him with a ferocious hunger, hand on the nape of his neck. The other, Ellis used to grab his ass cheek, hauling him close enough to be skin to skin from knees to lips.
“Alexa. Turn off the studio lights.” He didn’t want little eyes seeing anything inappropriate, but he wanted Ellis and he wanted him bad. “I need you. I need you to fuck me. Now.”
His belly hurt from the sudden influx of want.
The wild kiss Ellis gave him, the caress that damn near lit him on fire didn’t hurt either.
And while he’d always thought Ellis was hot and enjoyed having sex with him, this was different. This was pure need, and this was his soul begging Ellis for connection and help and proof that he wasn’t alone.
Even more than that, he wanted Ellis to take him out of his head for a minute, and he wanted to do the same for his lover.
“Where can we do this? There’s got to be a sturdy place that’s not going to start spinning you around like a top.”
“This worktable can hold a thousand pounds of clay. It can hold me leaning against it, and you fucking me like there’s no tomorrow. That was clear, right?” He liked to make absolutely sure.
Ellis laughed against his mouth, resting their foreheads together, and he could barely see Ellis’s warm gaze, holding him as close as those arms did. “Crystal. And yes. Good. Lube?”
It made him happy that Ellis was being reduced to grunts and clicks. “There’s hand lotion over by the sink. I wash my hands a lot. It’ll work.”
It was organic. It shouldn’t have anything that stung sensitive areas, and they’d already dispensed with the condoms. There was so much to be said for monogamy.
“On it.” Ellis lifted him as if he weighed less than a calf and hoisted him to the table. Then he went to get the lotion. Fast.
He couldn’t help but stare at Ellis as he moved.
He always thought of cowboys as not graceful on the ground.
The stories all said they were better on a horse, but he did love to watch Ellis walk.
Or do anything really. He figured that was a sign this was the guy for him because he hadn’t so much as looked twice at anybody since Chris.
Ellis came back, brandishing the lotion like a conquering hero. He had to laugh. He spread his legs and lifted his hips, showing off a bit because he was as hard as he could ever remember being, and he wanted that touch on him.
Ellis squirted a little lotion into his hand and grabbed Ichabod’s cock. Stroking up and down, making him grunt and buck.
“God, you’re amazing.” Ellis touched him, bending down to kiss his mouth and that kiss lit him on fire.
Well, he was already there, but he was well stoked and he was ready and willing to go in no time. He needed Ellis to slick him up and then stick that hard cock inside him. Where he needed it the most.
“Come on, Ellis, you don’t have to be gentle this time. Just give it to me,” he demanded.
“You mean this ain’t your first rodeo?” Ellis put more slick on his fingers, pressing two of them against Ichabod’s hole.
That was it, that was what he needed, and he spread wide, watching where Ichabod’s hand met his skin.
“Fuck, you’re hot.” Those calloused fingers slid in deep. Ellis bent forward to kiss his neck at the base of his throat, then looked over to bite at his shoulder.
“I need you, Ellis. I need you right now.”
“I got you, baby. Don’t worry.” Ellis opened him up with quick, easy strokes, in and out, the lube making this insane wet noise as Ellis worked to get him ready.
“I don’t think you understand. You are taking too damn much time.” He reached down and grabbed Ellis’ wrist, shoving those fingers inside him.
“Fuck, baby.” Ellis made his fingers wide, stretching him until he grunted and then pulled free, slicking up his cock in seconds.
He reached for Ellis and he didn’t have to ask again.
That cock slammed into him with one thrust, Ellis bending to kiss him until he couldn’t breathe.
His ears were ringing with it, and Ichabod reached up to grab Ellis’s shoulders, which were the only solid things in the world.
Even the table underneath his ass went away.
Ellis pulled back and then thrust forward, and they got a good rhythm going.
His legs wrapped around Ellis’ hips, his grip on those shoulders and upper arms never failing.
This was hot and necessary and perfect. The clay was drying on his skin, making things a little itchy, but that was another wonderful sensation.
He could do this all damn day, but he was only going to last a few minutes. His cock as Chinese algebra. His belly tight, his balls pulling up. Ellis was like fire all over him, burning him to the ground.
And Ellis was talking to him, hot words spilling over his skin. Curse words and love words. Things like “Faster, baby, harder. I love it like that. It’s so damn perfect.”
He kissed Ellis’s lips and bit his lower one, pushing, fighting for it, needing to lose himself in this.
The orgasm hovered on the base of his spine, working its way toward his brain. He bucked even more, pulling Ellis in deeper and harder, like Ellis demanded of him.
He didn’t think he’d ever been so hot. His skin burning, his nipples tight, his cock bouncing and slapping against his belly.
“Come on, baby. Give it to me. I know you need it.” Ellis grabbed his prick and started jacking him good and hard, making his eyes cross, those calluses dragging on his skin just right.
He swallowed and arched, his balls emptying in a rush, leaving him shuddering and sweaty, panting as he soared through his orgasm.
Ellis was right there with him, thrusting twice more before shooting inside him, filling him with heat and desire. So damn fine.
They both hung there together, still as a calm pond. Then Ellis grinned at him. “Well, hey.”
Ichabod started to chuckle. “Hey, I needed that. Good timing.”
In fact, it had been amazing timing and Ichabod felt like he could take on the entire world.
Clay was good.
Sex was great.
Clay and sex together were fucking amazing.