Page 231 of Skate the Line

I shrug. “Just trying to watch and learn.”

Sitting on the stool, I stretch my long legs out in front of me and continue watching Sunny’s toned arms move back and forth as she kneads the clay. She forms it into a ball,and tosses itbetween her hands a few times before walking the short distance over to me.

Her brown eyes hold a hint of humor in them.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” I ask.

Her mouth curves into a crescent. “I’m just going to enjoy watching you not be a superstar at something for once.”

I scoff. “How hard can it be? Ellie can do it.”

Sunny slaps the ball of clay onto the damp pottery wheel before her hands fall to her hips. I wonder what she’d do if I asked her to get naked underneath that apron thing she’s wearing? Would she do it?

I shouldn't ask her.

That’d be distracting.

“It’s sort of tedious.” She warns. “Your hands have to move a certain way.”

I grin and it takes her no more than a second to blush.

“But I’m good with my hands. Something you already know.”

She rolls her eyes and my grin deepens.

Next, she slides in front of me and pulls another stool in between my legs. She sits and puts her back to me. “I’m going to start and you’ll put your hands on mine and kind of get a feel for it, okay?”

My gaze immediately goes to her mouth when she tips her chin over her shoulder to look at me. I wet my lips with my tongue and she gulps while watching the action.

“Rhodes,” she says my name like some sort of warning, but I hear the desperation in her breaths. Sunny's torso rises faster as I push myself even closer to her. She’s trapped, sitting in her stool with my chest against her back. I press my hardening dick against her lower back and she sighs shakily. Her fingers begin to slow on the pottery from my obvious distraction.

“You stop, I stop.” I tease.

I can’t hide the smile spreading on my face when she refocuses and begins to work the hollowing cavern again.

“Khoroshaya devochka,” I whisper.

Her head tilts backwards with a soft gasp.

She loves it when I call her good girl in Russian.

I slip my hand into the front of her tight leggings that Iswearshe wears to drive me nuts.

I mimic her fingers.

Hers slide forward, mine slide forward. Hers pull back, mine pull back.

It only takes a few swipes and heat is pooling in between her legs.

“Ah,” she whispers.

With my nose, I trail a line from her neck to her throat. I place a soft kiss there and continue watching her fingers.

Up and down.

Up and down.

Up and down.

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