Pippa adjusts her body on the table, keeping her eyes pinned on me the entire time.
“Sit,” she instructs, her eyes motioning to my chair. She picks up a sketch pad and a pencil from one of my utensil cups, sliding them across the table for me.
“We’ve talked about this before,” I growl, making my way to her. “You don’t tell me what to do.”
“Take charge, then,” she suggests, shifting to her knees. She runs her hands along her body, tracing the curves my fingers itch to bring to life on paper and then in clay.
“It takes time to get a sketch developed.” I take a seat, the chair groaning underneath my weight.
She pushes her thighs open, her knees gliding along the wood as she flips her hair over her shoulder. “I can be patient.”
I grab the sketch pad, placing it in my lap before I reach for the pencil she laid out. “Since when have you ever been patient, shortcake?”
Her teeth dig into her bottom lip as she fights a smile. “I can learn.” Her fingers brush along her clit. She’s showing restraint by not playing with herself in an effort to continue to taunt me.
Sighing, I open to a blank page of the book. I always hate this process of development. The moment I hold a pencil in my hand, I’m transported to the times my mother would crash my tutoring sessions. She’d hover over my assignments, watching every single pencil stroke of mine to see if I amounted to anything.
I’d mess up on purpose, not wanting to give my parents the satisfaction of knowing I was exactly who they wanted me to be.
Even in adulthood, this part is always my least favorite. I know I have talent, and I hate it. But with Pippa’s hooded eyes watching me begin, I wonder if she can make me appreciate this step of the process.
“Get to work,” she demands, letting her thighs open a little wider.
I can see all of her.
Her clit, pink and swollen with pleasure. Her arousal, already making her pussy glisten. I can even see bite marks on her inner thighs from last night.
“You’re not the one making demands,” I snap, getting comfortable in my chair.
“I kind of think I am.”
I look at her from over the sketch pad, holding her stare.
“Touch yourself,” I demand.
Her eyes go wide, her fingers skirting along the sensitive skin between her thighs. “But you’re…”
“I’m drawing you, baby. Keep yourself busy as I do so. It’s going to be a while.”
Her hips rock back and forth. I don’t know if she even realizes she’s doing it, but as she rocks forward, she lets her fingers drift over her clit.
“Just like that.” I groan, wishing it was my fingers running through her wetness. “Finger fuck yourself, baby.”
Her eyes flutter shut as she slides one of her fingers into her waiting pussy. She lets out a long moan as she picks up speed, fully leaning in to what I’m telling her to do.
“Two fingers.” My voice doesn’t leave any room for argument. It’s loud and commanding, the passion I feel for her taking control.
My right hand moves quickly along the piece of paper as I begin to lay out the base for my sketch. The point of these drawings is just so I can get the wiring right for the base. It doesn’t have to be vividly detailed, but I could be persuaded to make it as detailed as possible if I get to watch her touch herself the entire time.
When I look up, I find Pippa coaxing two fingers into her cunt, just like I told her. “Good fucking girl,” I praise, running a hand along my straining cock. I could easily toss my sketch pad to the side and replace Pippa’s hand with my tongue, but I fight the urge.
She’s sexy as hell getting herself off. I want to sit back and watch her make herself come. I’ll study every single movement of hers so I can learn new things about what brings her pleasure.
“God, look how greedily you fuck yourself. You’re shoving your fingers as far as they will go, baby. Are you missing my cock?”
“Yes.” She moans. “I’m imagining it’s you.”
“What part of me?”
Her thumb runs over her clit as her fingers push in and out of her. “Any part of you,” she answers.
“Imagine your fingers are my cock. Ride them hard, like you’d ride me.”
She bounces up and down, her tits jiggling. She does exactly as she’s told, riding her hand as if she was riding my cock.
I let her have her fun, savoring every moan that falls from her lips as I trace the curve of her spine on the paper. I want to remember her just like this. Her back arched, her thighs open, and her head thrown back in pleasure.
I already know without a doubt in my mind that I’ll be bringing this picture to life. I’ll spend countless hours forming her perfect, round breasts from clay. I’ll put in the time to create a piece that attempts to do her majestic body justice.
I take a deep breath, trying to fight my aching cock and balls. All my body wants to do is close the distance between us and shove into her soaking wet pussy.
“Are you close to coming?”
She nods up and down, her curled pieces of hair dancing along the top of the table from how far her head is thrown back.
“Come for me like a good little slut. Let me see your cum drip out of you, and then maybe I’ll fill you with mine.”
I’ve never heard her moan so loud, her fingers working faster.
I set the sketch pad down. I’ve got what I needed. I wouldn’t miss watching this for anything. Sitting forward, I let one hand work at unbuttoning my jeans while the other clutches the armrest to keep myself seated.
“Let your cum drip over the table,” I demand, my voice hoarse with lust. “That way, I can think of you every single time I’m here.”
If she hears me, she doesn’t give any indication of it. She’s too busy riding her hand, grinding her hips back and forth until her moans are loudly ringing throughout the room. I can’t resist pulling my cock free, letting my fingers wrap around my length as I stroke myself up and down.
“You’re exquisite when you come,” I muse, my voice mixing with her moans. “You with your cheeks flushed and your thighs spread open for me is the greatest masterpiece I’ve ever seen.”
“God…” she moans, her fingers still pushing in and out of her.
I click my tongue, standing up and walking to her. “God’s not here, baby. You’re not his dirty whore—you’re mine.”
Her eyes pop open as she finds me standing right in front of her. “Fuck me,” she pleads, pulling her fingers from herself. She goes to wipe them off on her thigh, but I grab her wrist before she can do it. I keep it in my grasp, guiding her wet fingers to me. We keep eye contact as I coax her cum-coated fingers into my mouth. My tongue circles them, my eyes fluttering shut with the taste of her pussy filling my mouth.
I let my teeth scrape against the pads of her fingers, earning myself another moan from her. It mixes with my own moan at tasting her. My cheeks hollow out, cleaning her fingers clean of her arousal.
“Camden,” she pleads, trying to reach out and grab my cock. “Fuck me. Right now.”
I take a step back, quickly stripping myself of my clothes. “Only because you said my name.”
She smiles, her white teeth biting her bottom lip. “Or because you’re dying to fuck me.” She gestures to my straining cock, the tip already wet with precum.
“Don’t get mouthy with me,” I demand.
“Then fuck me.”
I roughly grab at her ankle, pulling her to the edge of the table. She yelps, her hands smacking against the wood to steady herself. My arm wraps around her, spinning her so she’s on her hands and knees. With her position on the table, I’m met with a view of her soaking wet pussy and her tight asshole. I run my finger from her clit and travel up, circling the puckered hole. She moans loudly, the top of her body falling to rest on the table. With her back arched at me, I’m tempted to feast on her pussy—and her ass.
I do just that, getting her warmed up and ready all over again. My tongue swipes up and down, caressing the most intimate parts of her.