Page 79 of Intrepid

“You wouldn’t have to chain me to do that.”

Pulling away just enough to expose my jaw, he ran his thumb over my scar, his eyes tracing the ruined skin there. Yesterday, I’d have pushed him away and hidden my face. After having seen his scars, though, I felt equal, in some ways. Less ugly, if that were possible.

“Anybody ever tell you how beautiful you are?”

My smile was slight, hiding a monster-sized dose of embarrassment. “They usually tell me I could be beautiful, if not for my scar.”

“Nah.” He shook his head, still thumbing the jagged surface. “It’s because of it.” Setting a gentle kiss to my jaw, he said, “You’re so fucking beautiful, it hurts.” As if it was so easy for him, like he didn’t just set my world ablaze with those words.

Head tipped back, he gripped my thighs, shifting his hips beneath me, until my bare sex pressed against his stomach in a wet slide as he flexed his muscles. The groan that escaped his throat carried a whisper of torment, and his whole body shuddered, his hands sliding up my thighs as he glanced down toward where I sat against him.

“You’re the best torture, Sera. Having you, and not really having you.”

“What do you mean?”

Instead of answering, he rolled his hips, watching intently as he spread my wetness across his skin.

Lowering to his thighs, I leaned forward, pushing his head back again, and kissed his throat, while reaching for his hand set on my leg. Guiding his palm to his cock, I dragged my teeth over his neck, across his pulsing vein, and squeezed my hand around his as we both stroked his length.

“Keeping going,” I murmured. “I want to draw you.”

His eyebrows flickered to a frown. “What?”

“This. I want to watch you come.”

“Jerk off in front of you?”

“Yes. I want something to keep. Something I can stare at when I touch myself alone.”

His neck bobbed with a swallow, and he lifted his head, slamming his lips to mine, before I slid from his lap.

From my bag, I pulled out the sketchpad I carried with me, and flipped to a blank page.

Eyes focused on him, I let the pencil dance across the page in fast, hasty strokes that matched his. The shadows, dips, and angles. The ridges of his abs as they clenched with the fire building inside of him. I sketched long cords of lean, but powerful, thighs, strong enough to hold me trapped, spread out before me. The tension in his jaw. The upturn of his brow in a cross between pleasure and pain.

A bulge in his bicep marked the controlled contraction of his muscles with every glide of his hand. His taut and trembling body, desperate for release. Tongue swept across his lips. He was sex in the flesh—raw and pure virility. Watching him, hearing the rough sounds rumble in his chest, was so freaking hot, my mouth went dry, heart hammering in my chest, while my hands vibrated across the page.

It took only a few minutes to hash out a rough sketch before I needed to touch him again. I couldn’t wait anymore. The greedy monster inside of me wanted to be the reason for his release. I wanted to bring him to that point, the artist creating the perfect masterpiece.

Setting the sketchpad aside, I pushed to my knees, wedging my body between his thighs, and tongued his tip, lapping up the small bit of fluid there. Still pumping his shaft, he snapped his head forward, his eyes promising to fuck me again if I wasn’t careful. The veins popping out of his neck and his arm turned him into a beast, hungry for release.

I told myself I was the only one who could give it to him.

“I want to taste it, Ty. I want you to come in my mouth and across my lips.” I pushed his hand away, taking hold of his rock-hard shaft.

I’d only done it a handful of times, with guys I hadn’t given a shit about. Guys who’d wanted to watch me suck them and beg for their cum—as if I’d cared whether, or not, they reached climax.

With Ty, I truly wanted to see it on his face. To swallow him. I wanted to mentally capture the moment when I brought him to that place, so I opened my mouth, wide enough to fit him inside, and let my tongue sample the salty taste of his skin, the masculine scent of his arousal taunting my primitive nature.

His fingers curled around the arms of the chair as his hips circled, and he let out a strangled noise, like a man teetering on the edge.

I took him as deep as I could, until his tip hit my throat, coaxing a gag, and let the saliva I’d worked up slide past my lips, as I sucked him all the way back up.

His hips bucked beneath me, while I tongued and sucked him, slowly to the tip and back down again. Wetness leaked down my thigh, bringing forth the realization that I was painfully aroused. Sucking him off turned me on, and I shamelessly reached between my thighs to confirm the slippery surface of my clit, rubbing my fingers over the tight bud. I moaned against his cock, my hand wet with saliva, as I stroked and sucked, stroked and sucked, as hungry for his release as he was.

His salty skin puckered my tongue, while I bobbed against his groin, savoring the taste of him, and getting myself off.

I took one of his balls into my mouth, an action that had him gripping the back of my head, fingers tangling in my hair.