Page 53 of Sight Unseen

His words held a dirty promise and I ignored them.

I wet the clay, ran my hands over it then pressed the pedal. The wheel spun slowly. I watched it go around and around, almost hypnotized. My fingers trailed over the wet, dark material and found the rhythm of clay and fingers,

Nate’s amused voice jolted me out of my reverie. “Okay, stop for a minute. Make sure the clay is in the middle of the wheel, it’s important to center it, then hold the clay firm, thumbs up, fingers around it.” His voice went husky. “Pretend you’re holding my cock, and imagine you’re slowly sliding your hands up toward the tip. Create a cone with your hands.”

I pressed the pedal and the wheel turned once again. I held the visual of holding Nate’s cock in my hands and transferred it to the clay. My groin ached at his teasing words. “You do know your cock isn’t this thick? I hate to burst your bubble—”

He nipped my ear with his teeth. “Shut it. Concentrate. Make sure you keep wetting your hands and fingers. It needs to be kept moist.”

I crinkled my nose. “I hate that word,” I complained as I watched the lump of clay take on form. “It sounds so icky. Moist. Blech.”

Nate laughed. He leaned into my back, his hands running down my arms. There was the unmistakeable press of something hard against my spine. I didn’t know how the hell I was supposed to focus on making a damn bowl when the evidence of Nate’s arousal was insistent at my back.

The scent of him, mixed with the smell of the wet clay, and the slight acrid burn of the wheel as it spun were intoxicating.

“Now, here we go.” Nate leaned in and covered my hands with his. I gasped as his hard-on burned through my clothes to my skin with its heat. His breath whispered against my ear, driving me wild.

He adjusted my hands, so that one cupped one side of the clay while the other was placed over the top, fingers over my other hand. “Using the heel of this hand,” he tapped on the one over the top, “start to press down firmly in the middle of the clay, creating a depression. Keep it steady, and use your fingers to press your hand against the clay, keeping it in place. Use the water, make sure it’s kept wet. Things are always better when they’re wet.”

I swallowed but obeyed, my cock now in an unbearable state of ready-to-launch mode.

“You, my friend, are a plagiarist.” I wasn’t sure if that was the right word to use for someone who copied film scenes, not literature, but it was all I had. I was proud I was even able to speak. I watched as the clay began to shrink downward, creating more of an uneven bowl-like shape.

“What do you mean?” Nate’s fingers rubbed against mine teasingly.

“Oh come on. Ghost? The movie with Patrick Swayze and Demi Moore? You mean to tell me you aren’t re-creating that scene—my favorite scene of the whole film as you well know—for my benefit? And from the feel of it, your gratification?”

Nate’s tongue licked my ear as he chuckled, and that sexy sound drove me crazier. “I knew you’d get it. I’ve been waiting ages to do this with you. It’s such a turn on.”

He nibbled at my ear and pulled my ponytail at the same time. A surge of pleasure went straight to my cock and I gasped. I’d had enough of his teasing.

I took my foot off the pedal, and the wheel slowed. I didn’t care what happened to the clay at this point. It could dry up and become a misshapen blob for all I cared.

This was war.

“Step back, Nate, I’m getting up.” I didn’t want to surprise him moving too quickly, and send him flying. As I stood, I moved in one fluid movement and grasped his biceps. I manoeuvred him back against the nearest wall and pressed against him, grabbing his wrists and holding him still.

Nate’s eyes were half closed, his face flushed, and there was the faintest trace of a smirk on his delicious lips. He looked sexy as hell.

I pressed my lips against his ear. “I’ve been trying to be a gentleman and make sure we were both ready for this but you’ve tipped me over the edge.” I reached one hand down and into his sweatpants, grabbing his cock. He was already slick, hot and smooth in my hand.

Nate’s eyes opened, desire swirling in their dark depths and his full, pink lips parted as he breathed out warm, coffee-scented air. His free hand rested on my hip.

“Now this is what’s going to happen,” I growled. “I’m going to relieve you of the hard-on that’s been pressing into my back and driving me wild, then you’re going to get on your knees for me and relieve mine.”

Nate smiled, a huge beautiful smile that made my heart ache. He pushed himself into my hand, and his lips brushed mine like the soft caress of a whisper.

“Please,” was all he said, and the need in his tone undid me.

I claimed his mouth with a ferocity that surprised me. I wasn’t usually this forceful but Nate seemed to bring it out. Our tongues slicked together in a kiss borne of need, and anticipation that had been years in the making.

Fisting his smooth, rigid cock, I stroked him, loving the sounds that he made, the small gasps and pants that invigorated me to work him harder. The smell of semen and musk in the air was an aphrodisiac.

“God, Cody,” Nate whimpered when our lips parted, “Waited so long for this. Please, harder. Finish it. I need to come.”

“I’ve got you,” I whispered against his lips. “I’ve always had you, Nate.”

Those words were the catalyst for Nate to come, his orgasm wracking his body with shudders and a stuttering of his hips. He let out a soft moan and liquid heat spilled over my hand and between my fingers. I uttered a groan at feeling that evidence of his arousal—what I’d done to him—coat me in its sticky slickness.