Page 27 of Dark Ink

“Do you see the difference now?” I asked with a strained, tense voice because the need was becoming too much. My charcoal fingers longed for the real thing to trace, to plunge inside of. “Do you see the difference in what I drew of you?”

My breath caught in my throat when I noticed Eithne’s finger moving, just a little, in and out of her pussy.

“You saw the beauty.”

Such a simple answer. But never one more perfect.

I couldn’t tear my eyes away as Eithne slipped a second finger inside of her. It turned me on more than I could say to know that she was watching me. That she was getting off on me watching her. Caring for her. Loving her.

“You deserve to see that beauty, too, Eithne,” I said, my voice a haunting whisper. “You deserve to care for yourself. To love yourself. To pleasure yourself.”

I swallowed heavily and added, “You deserve to be pleasured. And not just as a lucky happenstance of me being pleasured.”

Eithne tucked her dark hair behind her sweet little ear so I could see all of her features, her swollen bottom lip as she moved her finger to circle her clit, the way it made her pupils dilate, her cheeks redden, the blinking of her eyelids go heavy, intoxicated, intoxicating. Eithne licked her lips, her mouth curling at the edges as she watched me watch her.

“I,” I dared to say, “I want to teach you that, too.”

Eithne

Rian crawled on his knees toward me, his gaze on my pussy. I kept waiting for the tension, the fear, the shame. I knew it was there. Lurking just out of sight.

He paused before me, kneeling like in prayer as he exhaled deeply.

“Fuck, you are perfect.”

My chest hitched as Rian lowered himself down between my legs. In that tiny gap of space before he touched me, where I was just a girl naked and exposed on the floor, instead of a grown woman about to be pleasured, I imagined alarm bells clanging out.

I tore my eyes away from him, sinking back on my elbows, staring up to the ceiling like I was in a dentist’s chair trying to distract myself, trying to pretend this wasn’t happening.

He traced the edges of me with the tip of his tongue, tentatively at first. My heart was racing faster and I waited for the panic to set in.

But Rian’s tongue was like a drug of its own. Instead of stiffening, I melted into the wooden floor. I thought I could almost feel the charcoal on the crumpled pages beneath me, feel it sinking into me, entering my bloodstream, making me high as I began to writhe.

A little moan escaped my lips when Rian circled his tongue around my clit. The skin there was so sensitive, so electrified by any touch. I could feel an almost sort of buzzing in Rian’s tongue. A longing for more. And I almost cried when I realised I wanted that, too. My body buzzed in time with his licks, reaching, yearning for a higher and higher pitch. A fever pitch. A burning, aching, throbbing fever pitch.

“Please,” I moaned softly, the word drawn out of me as natural as breath while sleeping.

Rian circled my entrance with his finger. “Good, Eithne. Good.”

Gone was Ms Brady. Gone was the pretext that I was his student, he my professor. There on the floor we were lovers. We were something natural, pure, beautiful. He wanted me to feel pleasure, and I, hardly daring to trust myself as I thought this, wanted to feel it.

I lifted my head and gazed down the length of my chest. It was something I’d never seen before. My tits rising like two snowy hills. The fine hair along my lower stomach raised as if a lightning storm were gathering on the horizon. A pair of piercing, pale blue eyes, hovering just above the juncture between my legs, somehow both natural and devastatingly unnatural. From another world. From a far-off heaven. It was a sight untouched by convention and morals and expectation: wild, pure, untouchable.

Then he slid his finger inside and curled it around to that spot—that fucking spot. At the same time his licks became firmer, more insistent.

My cries of pleasure were almost immediate as well. It was all so overwhelming that I had no mind for the closeness of the door, nor its thinness, nor the students passing beyond it like wraiths. Rian didn’t stop me either. Rather he seemed spurred on by the involuntarily noises coming from my gasping lips as I clung to handfuls of his hair.

I screamed and rolled my hips against Rian’s mouth like a madwoman.

Like a whore.

Panic came at me like a knife to the heart. Oh God, what was I doing? What was I letting him do? What was I risking? Pleasure seeping away like there was a hole in my gut.

“Stop!” I cried, panic clawing at my throat.

But as Rian held me tighter, as his tongue found my clit again, as he added a second finger. Pleasure and panic warred in me, the natural rightness of a body being pleasured fought with a lifetime of being taught this was wrong.

“Stop,” I gasped as I stopped trying to tug Rian closer and began to push him away.

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