Page 92 of My Sweetest Agony
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.
