Page 64 of Dark Ink

She shuddered. “God, yes.”

She was more than ready for it. I plunged my tongue into her sensitive back hole as I fucked her with the paintbrush, angling it so it hit her g-spot.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck,” she chanted as I worked her holes. As I brought her all the way to the edge.

And pulled away.

She let out a cry. “Rian, please—”

“Only whores get to come.”

“W-what?”

I straightened and brushed the soft end of the brush along her pussy and her back hole. Her body shook as I teased her. The touch wasn’t enough.

“Own it, Eithne.”

I circled the handle end of the brush around her asshole rim before pulling away as she bucked back, trying to get it inside her.

“Own it.”

“I’m a whore.”

“A beautiful little whore.”

“Your little whore.”

“Yes,” I hissed, circling her back hole with the handle end again as I ran the finger of my other hand against her clit, another reward.

“I’m a whore and I need to come, oh God Rian, I need to come so bad.”

I grabbed my cock and positioned at her entrance. “And you deserve to come.” I pushed the end of the brush into her ass, her body just accepting it, tightening around it. At the same time, I thrust my cock inside her pussy.

I groaned feeling her body tighten around me, feeling the pressure of the brush in her ass against my cock.

I timed the thrusts in a wave from the brush in her ass to my cock in her pussy, in, in, out, out. Over and over until she was screaming. “Fuck me. Fuck me like a dirty little whore.”

Until my timing was forgotten. Until I left the brush in her ass and grabbed her hips, driving myself deep inside her over and over.

I felt when she peaked, when her whole body tightened around me so hard I thought I might explode. Then she came, hard. Her body vibrating against the desk, milking the come out of my cock, her screams echoing around the empty art room.

I could barely pull out before I came all over the backs of her thighs, the orgasm roaring through me like a thunderous wave. I gripped the desk as we panted together in the dark.

Carefully, I slid the paintbrush out of her. I found a discarded but clean paint rag and used it to wipe her up.

Then I pulled my clothes on and helped her into hers. I picked her up like a baby and she snuggled into my arms as I carried her out of the art room, out of campus.

“Where are we going?” she mumbled against my chest.

I said, simply.

“Home.”

* * *

I slipped Eithne into my bed and pulled off her shoes before sliding in behind her, both of us still fully clothed. I tucked her against my chest and she nestled even further against me, sighing happily, the sound warming my insides more than a hit of cocaine ever did. She looked like a sleeping angel in this dim moonlight filtering through my window.

I brushed the hair out of her face and prayed that I wouldn’t fuck this up.

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