Page 34 of Make Me Dream of You

She looks at me with those big eyes and pouty lips, the soft light glowing all around her painting the most angelic picture I’ve ever seen.

No, no she has no idea what she’s doing to me. I can think of many positions I’d like to put her in, and they are all very bad. Bad for many reasons.

I shake the images out of my mind.

“Whatever is most comfortable for you.” I keep my expression calm, my voice level and detached.

“Okay,” she says.

I fidget with the stylus as she gets into position, keeping my head down while the sounds of her sliding against the duvet and the vague movement of her limbs in my periphery pull at my resolve.

“How’s this?” she asks.

I look up.

Holy fuck.

It’s like all the air has left my lungs and I can’t figure out how to take another breath.

She’s stretched out on the bed, feet dangling over the edge. I can’t take my eyes off her. Up her legs to the soft lines of her stomach and the curve of her hips. The perfect place to grip onto.

Stop imagining digging your fingertips into her, Noah. Jesus.

“It’s good,” I choke out.

She smiles and looks out the window. Serene. She’s still and I’m still. Except for the slight bounce in her breasts every time she breathes. I might not have noticed but her breaths are coming more rapidly.

Me too, Livvy. Me too.

“You’re beautiful,” I say.

She turns, lips parted. Her chest heaves. That was a stupid thing to say. I was trying to make her feel more at ease.

“Thank you,” she says.

“I mean it. Gorgeous.”

Get a fucking grip.

I’m making an ass out of myself. I create a new page and start to block out her figure. Map out the shapes. Get the lines right, the angles.

Her breasts are fucking perfect and it’s not helping my hard-on subside. They’re on the smaller side, perky, round little orbs with soft pink tips.

My mouth is watering.

Keep drawing.

I layer in shadows to give the shapes dimension. I work quickly, focusing on the proportions and trying not to linger too long on her thighs, the arch of her back, the fullness of her breasts, the shadowed area between her legs…

Her breathing has slowed. That’s good.

Look away from her nipples, you creep.

Her face. I slow when I get to her face. I want to get it just right, the angle of her chin, her cute little nose, her round eyes and long lashes. Her pouty mouth. That mouth is too luscious, too soft to do it justice in any medium.

“How are you doing?” I ask.

“I’m good.” Her voice is low and breathy, and I wish the lighting was just a little better so I could see any of the more subtle changes in her micro expressions.

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