Page 41 of Dark Ink

He stood licking his fingers, I stared at him in horror.

“You ready to admit you want this?” he said.

Before I could stop myself, my hand lashed out and cracked against his cheek.

Shit. I just hit my professor.

For a moment I thought I’d gone too far. Rian’s pupils were blown wide, his irises nearly gone. He tried to breathe out steadily but it shook, trembled.

I winced when his hand shot out like the strike of a viper’s. He gripped me by the back of the neck, damp fingers digging in, and pulled my lips to his. My knees collided with the pottery wheel as I fell into him. We crashed to the floor together, me atop him, smears of wet clay between us. I tasted it on his mouth as our lips collided, as our tongues twisted. Bitter. Cold. Like wet earth. Like life itself.

Rian tore at my clothes and ended up with half a handful of clay, half a handful of my sweater. I dug my clay-covered fingers through his hair. My hips rocked against Rian’s hard cock as the clay smeared between our chests. I flinched as the cold clay on his hands came in contact with my bare stomach as he pushed my sweater up.

It was like plunging into an icy lake the colour of slate, of concrete. My stomach muscles contracted at the first contact, cold and harsh and inescapable. It rose with Rian’s probing fingers along the centre of my trembling ribcage. It covered my breasts, stung against my peaked nipples. It constricted around my throat, made it hard to breath, made it hard to even want to.

“Get this thing fucking off,” Rian muttered against my lip, nipping at me from word to word, biting a little harder each time.

I rose above him, knees straddled across his hips. He already looked out of his mind as he watched me hook my fingers under the hem of my sweater and pull it over my head, bra and all. I felt Rian’s cock twitch needily against my pussy as my hair fell across my bare shoulders. My chest was coated in clay, traced with his fingers, smeared with his sweating palms.

He slapped the nipple that hadn’t already been painted with clay. I gave an involuntary moan, soft and pitiful. I didn’t need to tell Rian to do it again. The sting of his open hand was immediately chilled by the clay. I leaned back and thrust my tits out. Rian slapped me again with more clay.

“No,” I groaned, hands trembling on Rian’s thighs.

Rian’s fingernails dug deeply as he scraped them over my tits. I shook all over.

“Just look at you, dirty girl,” he groaned himself. “Just fucking look at you, Eithne.”

The words sent heat between my legs and then ice at the base of my spine. I imagined someone catching us like this. Spine arched atop my professor. Clay smeared over me like I was a wall, a canvas, an object. Nipples so hard I was sure they would break like glass. Filthy sounds coming from my mouth. Revelling in it all. Ready for more. Desperate for more.

Rian grabbed my calves and flipped me over on all fours before shoving my skirt up around my waist.

Cold air rushed around my slick thighs, around my soaking bare pussy. Rian groaned behind me at the sight of me.

Slap! His palm came down on my ass. I let out a cry.

“Dirty fucking girl, you’re going to beg for me to fuck you.”

His hand came down on me again, the coolness of the clay on his hands not masking the fire crackling through me at the impact.

“No,” I moaned even as my hips pushed back, begging for more.

Smack!

His hand came down on the other cheek and I flinched, pain ebbing through me then pleasure rushing in after. “Such a fucking liar.”

I heard Rian shifting behind me as I clenched my eyes shut, my thighs shaking with need. I heard his own shirt, wet with clay, come off. I heard the clatter of his jean button hit the linoleum floor. I clutched at the floor slippery with clay and tried to keep my arms from shaking. I hated myself for the groan that Rian elicited when he ran his hands greedily over my body, smearing cold, wet clay around my waist and across my breasts, up my inner thighs and around my ass.

I felt his cockhead at my soaked pussy. I needed it really. I needed his thrusts, his fucking, his release. I needed my pleasure, his pleasure. Then maybe we could stop this ridiculous obsession with each other.

But he didn’t thrust into me. I moaned and pushed my ass up even higher for him.

“Whores beg. So beg,” he commanded.

“What?” It felt like icy water splashed on the back of my neck.

He rubbed his end of his cock along my slit, teasing me, dipping just the tip in. I moaned and pushed back, wanting more and whimpered when he pulled back just out of reach.

“Rian, please…” I panted. My pussy was so swollen, so needy from him cruelly leaving me on the edge.

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