Holy crap, she couldn’t possibly be thinking of...
He’d pleasured her like this before but he knew that she wasn’t comfortable, yet, to reciprocate. He’d spent many, many nights imagining Sage doing exactly this but his imagination, which was powerful, had nothing on this. Her tongue flicked over his abs and he groaned and reached back to grab the edge of a shelf, convinced that his knees were about to buckle.
Sage pushed his jeans down his legs and worked her fingers under the band of his underwear. Cool air touched his straining erection and her fiery mouth on his skin was a complete contrast. He didn’t know if he could handle this: his fantasies had fallen well short of how she made him feel. In his dreams, his heart never felt like it was about to beat through his chest, like he didn’t have a single spark of brainpower left, that the whole world was reduced to her mouth on him.
He couldn’t do it... It was too much. Then Sage took him inside her mouth, and his brain, that teeny tiny organ, shut down completely.
Tyce gripped the counter and tipped his head back, thinking that if he watched her, he’d lose it completely. His chest heaved and beads of sweat popped on his skin. This, Sage, being loved by her, was all his fantasies and wishes and hopes and dreams coming true.
Oh, it wasn’t just about the sex—which was terrifyingly fantastic—but all of this. She was in his studio and she’d said everything he most needed to hear about his art, had placed his past actions into perspective, had opened up a new world to him. He wanted this, all of it. He wanted her in his life, to be a big part of hers, he wanted to raise their baby together. That much he knew... There would be no thinking about this in the morning.
He needed her. He always had.
Tyce gripped her shoulders, pulled her up and slapped his mouth on hers. In between hot and heavy kisses, they managed to pull their clothes off, scattering them across his paint-splattered floor. When they were both naked, Tyce locked his arms beneath her bottom and lifted her up, sighing when her slim legs encircled his waist. Unable to wait, he pushed her down and he slid into her, wet and warm and wonderful.
Sage gasped and Tyce saw stars behind his eyes. Not convinced that his knees weren’t about to buckle, he rested her against his oil painting, and Sage’s head fell back. Tyce stopped and looked at her, eyes closed, long hairs falling through the still-wet paint of his creation, her milky shoulders against the various shades of blue.
Knowing that he couldn’t hold on for much longer, Tyce commanded Sage to open her eyes. When she did, he sighed and fell a little deeper in love. “I want to watch your eyes as you come. But do it soon, please?”
Sage pressed down, her butt sliding down the canvas, and he sunk even farther into her. She gasped, yelled and contracted around him and he was lost.
Then he spun away into a vortex of a million shades of blue.
* * *
The next morning, Tyce walked Sage to the taxi and she noticed the amusement in his eyes as he pulled a cap over her head.
“What?” she mock demanded, thinking that he looked, if it was possible, ten times sexier than he had last night. He had rings around his eyes, so did she since they hadn’t spent much time sleeping, but the shadows in his eyes were gone.
“I was just thinking about the streaks of French ultramarine on your butt,” he told her, laughter rolling through his expression.
Sage frowned at him. “I’m more upset that you destroyed your painting than I am about some oil paint on my ass.”
Last night, when they came up for air and were marginally functional, Sage felt the wet paint on her bottom and had whirled around to look at the painting, which now sported a perfect imprint of her butt cheeks. Instead of being upset about his ruined painting, Tyce had cried with laughter.
“I’ll do something with it,” Tyce told her, lifting his hands to cradle her face. “Maybe. Or I might just keep it as a reminder of the best sex of my life. And the best conversation.”
Sage smiled and curled her gloved hands around his strong wrists. “Just remember that I think you are fabulous.”
Tyce lifted one arrogant eyebrow but she saw the hint of uncertainty in his eyes. “A fabulous artist?”