Page 107 of Chasing Forever
“You’re my task. Or so I hope at least.”
“Hey, you asked for this lesson.”
“I thought you understood why. I’ll leave the sculpting to you, and you leave pleasuring you to me.” My lips lick up her neck before I nibble on her earlobe.
“You’re not even trying anymore,” she whispers.
“Can you blame me?” I glance down through the valley of my splayed open shirt on her. A clear view to her breasts.
Our hands are a muddy mess, my forearms coated in wet clay. Lottie straightens, her hands sliding down my arms, trying to keep me going, but I’ve lost interest in the clay.
“I’m going to have to call this lesson over soon,” she says.
“Do you think I’ll complain?” I nip on her ear.
She continues to work the clay, and my fingers manipulate her buttons one at a time as I graze my nose down the column of her neck, sprinkling kisses along her flesh.
“Make me something beautiful,” I whisper.
She sculpts, and I watch her hands work, how she’s able to use just the right amount of pressure to make the clay do her bidding. Her fingers are fluid as she manipulates it into the shape she wants. Her body is at peace until I flick open another button, and her breath catches for a second.
Lottie’s always beautiful, but admiring her here in her element, the place where I assume she calms any voices in her head, is mesmerizing. It makes me feel special that she’s sharing it with me.
“You’re brilliant.”
She laughs, and her head falls back on my shoulder, her movements not faltering. “It’s just practice. If you weren’t so distracted, you could do this too.”
“No, babe, I couldn’t.” I have no idea the hours she’s spent in this shed. The failed attempts, the small successes that encouraged her to keep going. So much rage and reflection has probably happened in these four walls. “Thank you for sharing this with me.”
Her head lolls back to my shoulder, and I finally get the last button undone, my hands sliding the cotton fabric open.
Still she has the patience to finish the bowl she’s making, dipping her fingers into the water and bringing them back to the clay as her foot knows exactly how hard to press on the pedal. I don’t touch her breasts but keep my hands on her thighs, moving them up and down, not wanting to bother her too much.
“Your hands feel so good.”
“At least I’m good for something because I’m not doing much to help you here.”
“Hmm,” she hums.
The bowl is finally shaped, and her foot lifts off the pedal.
I kiss her neck, and after a beat, she gets off the stool and straddles me, thighs pressing outside mine. There’s clay smeared along her arms and legs, thanks to both of us.
“Lesson’s over,” she says.
“Jesus,” I mutter, my hands flying to her hips.
She lets the shirt slide down her arms slowly and tosses it aside.
I grip her tighter, pulling her flush against me. “Fuck, Lottie, you’re gorgeous. Here, in your element, doing what you love, it brings out a beauty I hadn’t discovered in you yet.”
“You’ve done that.” Her fingers weave through my hair, nails scraping my scalp. “A lot has gone down in this room, but my body is calm because of you. You bring that out of me, Brooks. Only you.”
She undoes me with her confession. Another thing I’ve always dreamed of has come true.
Our lips crash in a kiss that’s all tongue and teeth and pent-up hunger. Her hands are in my hair, mine sliding under her ass, dragging clay as my fingers dive under her silk panties. Her skin’s flushed, smeared in fingerprints and streaks of gray, her breathing shallow, and I drag my mouth down her throat, over her collarbone, across the swell of her breast.
“Brooks,” she gasps, arching into me as I suck on one nipple and tease it with my tongue. “God?—”
