23. Ivy #2
I groan at the sensation of the heel of his palm rubbing across my clit, and he pushes harder, rolling it until my hips buck against him and his hard cock is pinned between us.
He tugs at the hem of my shirt with his free hand, and I allow him to pull it up and toss it unceremoniously to the floor. Hot, frantic lips move across my collarbone as he reaches behind me and unhooks my bra, exposing my breasts to the chilly air.
My nipples harden instantly under his assessment, and he issues a deep groan and drops his head, sucking one between his lips.
I gasp at the sensation, my head falling back, eyes rolling up as his hand continues to move against me, the other wrapped around my hip again, holding me steady as his seeking mouth and tongue send jolts of pleasure straight between my legs.
They tremble violently, and he releases my nipple and moves to the other as he pulls his hand from my core long enough to undo my jeans.
I toe off my shoes, the bass lightly shaking the floorboards beneath my bare feet, and he growls his approval along my lips as he slowly lowers me onto the canvas.
My head lands in the sticky black and white paint, but he doesn’t seem to care that we will ruin whatever vision he had for this piece.
He shifts back, dragging down my jeans and panties, exposing me to him fully for the first time. The forgotten fabric falls from his hands, his eyes never leaving my naked body spread out across the canvas.
Everywhere his gaze touches heats like a fucking napalm fire going off, moisture pooling between my thighs, that throb so incessant that it thumps in time with the bass from the stereo.
I squirm under the assessment.
The pure adoration in his gaze only grows as it moves from the top of my head over my chest, my stomach, and finally between my legs. His cock strains against his jeans, the hard length as intimidating as the man who looks ready to devour me.
Unable to bear the potency of it any longer, I allow my eyes to drift over him, taking in every inch of his exposed muscled chest and arms.
Those two snakes twist up his left arm—one light, one dark—and I can’t help but to wonder what they signify.
And another tattoo sits on his ribcage, though I can’t make it out from here.
My gaze drifts lower, over his rock-hard abs to that delicious trail that leads down to his unbuttoned fly.
The heat his perusal had ignited flares hotter, and I shift restlessly, pressing my thighs together, the urge to slide my hand down between them and give myself some relief so strong that my fingers actually twitch on the canvas.
Cam’s sharp eyes catch the movement, the corner of his mouth curving as he drops to his knees and grasps my thighs. His fingers dig into them as he drags them up and over his shoulders, leaving me arched up with my hands splayed out wide across the paint.
“Fuck, Ivy…” It comes out more growl than spoken, an edge to his voice I’ve never heard before, like he’s close to finally snapping the way he warned me he would—“I’ve been dying to taste you like this for four years.”
It’s the only warning I get before he plunges his face between my legs.
His thick tongue glides along my entire slit and up across my clit in a long, smooth motion that has me bow up even more, digging my heels into his shoulders and mashing my hair further into the wet paint.
My fingers slide through it as I scramble for purchase, for anything to cling to while his groan vibrates against my thighs and damp flesh, making me twitch and twist in his grip even more.
But Cam doesn’t relent.
He doesn’t give me an inch to direct him, just licks me again and again in long, luxurious strokes. Ravishing me like he can’t get enough, as if this is his sole mission, to unleash my soul against his mouth.
And then his tongue plunges into me as deep as he can go.
“Fuck!”
My cry echoes across the studio, bouncing off the brick as my neck arches, eyes rolling back, my entire world centered on that scalding, throbbing spot between my legs. A low tingle starts in my core, my clit aching as he flicks his tongue across it rapidly.
Good God…
Cam utterly destroys me with his attention to that spot.
Intense.
Single-minded focus.
The same passion he directs onto his canvases now centered on my clit.
“You’re going to come against my mouth, Ivy.” Lick. “So I can taste every sweet drop of you.” Suck. “So I can have it all. ” Lick. “And then…” Suck. “I’m going to slide my cock into this slick cunt of yours and let you come on it, too.”
Nip.
That fucking nip…
It makes me twist my thighs against his head, and I lift my hands to tunnel them into his hair. He groans his approval, muttering an unintelligible curse into my damp flesh. He redoubles his efforts, his tongue shifting between spearing into me and flicking across the apex of my thighs.
It’s too much and not enough.
My skin sticks to the canvas as I try to shift, try to adjust my legs so I can keep him right on my clit, but his firm grip on my thighs prevents me from budging an inch.
I tighten my grip on his hair and tug, trying another tactic, but he pulls his head back so he can look up at me with a lust-soaked, hooded gaze.
He keeps eye contact as he plunges his tongue into me again, then flicks it up over my clit once. Twice. A third time.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
Proving that he’s in control of this and will do whatever the fuck he wants to me, how he wants it, while I’m spread out like this.
And I want to let him.
Because he’s demonstrated his expert skills where getting me off is concerned.
But if he doesn’t do something . If he doesn’t nudge me over that edge soon, I’m going to rip out his hair or tear a damn hole in this canvas.
As if sensing I’m reaching my breaking point in more ways than one, he shifts his hand off my thigh and plunges two fingers into me easily. The slick sound of them sinking in meets my low, throaty moan at finally having some part of him inside me.
It isn’t what I really want.
Not what I really need.
But my pussy still clenches around them, clasping and trying to keep them inside as he pumps them in time with his flicking across my clit.
My breath hitches. My fingers twine in his hair. My thighs tense. All in anticipation of what is about to come. I hover over the precipice. Where I can see the promised land. The place where all my fears and worries, all the reasons I have to be confused and angry just don’t exist.
It’s so close I can taste it—it tastes like Cam.
Rich.
Citrusy.
And when he drags my clit between his lips and sucks it in a relentless rhythm that matches his thrusts, I finally topple over that edge.
Instead of floating on that vast, empty sea, I’m now spiraling on top of the wave as it crests and then crashes down onto the shore, so violent I arch up even more off the canvas as he continues to suck me down.
He drags my orgasm on and on and on. With his fingers.
With his mouth. Until I’m left panting and begging for him to stop, my whole body thrumming and over-sensitive in a way that only follows a mind-blowing release.
He slowly lifts his head and licks his lips, then allows my thighs to slide down until my legs are sprawled out on the canvas. Trembling. Twitching. Completely at his mercy.
Which seems like a very dangerous place to be.
The unimaginable heat blazing across his eyes burns hotter than any fire I’ve ever seen, what I imagine the surface of the sun looks like up close, and as his gaze travels over me, it feels like being swallowed up by it. Like it’s branding my skin the same way the tattoos cover his.
Black and white paint streaks across his neck and in his hair—visual evidence of how completely out of control he made me with just his mouth and fingers.
He shoves his jeans down, freeing his hard cock.
My breath hitches again, watching it bob gently as he tugs off his pants and tosses them to the side.
“I haven’t been with anyone in over a year, Ivy.
” His gaze turns hard. “Since before I went to rehab. And I’ve been tested and retested for everything under the sun and come back clear…
” He takes his length in his hand and strokes it once, twice, a third time.
“I need to feel your cunt without anything between us.”
Fuck.
How awful is it that I hadn’t even thought about that until this moment…
His dark brow furrows. “Can I do that, Ivy?” Still stroking his cock, he tilts his head, examining me on the canvas before he kneels back down between my legs and runs his free hand across one thigh, and then the other. “Can I fuck you bare and come deep inside you?”
Good fucking God…
There are things I should tell him about why I’m not worried about getting pregnant, but this isn’t the time or place to have that discussion. Not when his words, his stare, his hard, ready body are poised over me and mine is trembling to take him.
Fluttering and clasping at nothing when all I want is to feel him filling me.
I release a little gasp at the sensation of his fingertips along my hypersensitive skin and nod.
A slow grin spreads across his face, and his gaze sweeps over me again. “I wish I were a more talented artist so I could capture how fucking perfect you look right now. A truly breathtaking masterpiece…”
Instantly, I tear my eyes from him to scan all the paintings surrounding us in the room, and I can’t help but chuckle at the absurdity of his statement. “I think you’ve done a pretty good job.”
Cam shakes his head and braces one hand to the side of my neck as he drags the head of his cock through my slick folds, making me shudder.
“Not even fucking close, Ivy.” His lips feather over mine.
“Not.” Another light brush. “Even.” Another.
“Fucking.” A final one where he lets them linger before slowly pulling away. “Close.”
He pushes into me in one hard, determined thrust.
Fuuuuck!
Air rushes from my lungs.
My head spins.