CHAPTERSEVENTEEN
OLIVIA
Olivia’s mind was a beautiful mess. She had experienced so very few moments where she allowed her body to take the reins. To trust its movements for movement's sake and to not be seeking any meaning beyond the moment when it came to sex. With Henry, though, she seemed to shift into this mode rather easily, like a warm dip into a tub after a chilly day.
She had asked him to touch her, and being able to say that out loud was the most empowering thing she had ever done. Being a woman and admitting that you wanted pleasure for its own sake was a victory. Having a man that would hear that without judgment was something else together.
Henry pulled at her jeans and yanked down her underwear with it. She could feel her back pressing against some spilled paint. It was cool and wet on her skin. She knew that she would look like her own kind of masterpiece after their lovemaking was over.
It startled her to think of it as lovemaking, whereas the first time could have been seen as fucking. Straight up, good fucking. But then again, it wasn’t. Their bodies reacted with a pre-formed intimacy like two stars finding each other in the widespread of the galaxy.
He used his mouth to appreciate her, slowly coming down her neck as he leaned over her, his cock at attention and ready. She used one hand to stroke him as he studied her, scraping his teeth along the ridges of her breastbone, teasing her nipples and giving them a polite suck. Olivia was rolling her hips the entire time, reaching for his shaft with them as her body collided against a few tubes of neon green paint.
“Baby,” she murmured.
“God, you taste so good, Olivia,” Henry moaned.
He eventually left her breasts, perky nipples wet and hard, then moved down the center of her torso as she breathed deeply. She watched his handsome face as he traced her with his tongue down the center of her belly, kissing it tenderly.
“Yes, Henry,” she moaned, squeezing her eyes shut.
She felt his mouth move along her folds, the wet touch and sensation making her shiver. He let her wallow there for a moment, writhing for him, as he abandoned her core to kiss along the sensitive insides of her thighs.
Olivia couldn’t help her groan. She knew that he was teasing her, even a bit, but there was also a part of him that didn’t want to miss a single spot on her body. He had touched and kissed places on her that only her hand had ever grazed. It wasn’t just her sex he wanted. No, it was all of her, every messy and imperfect part that the rest of the world shied away from.
She opened her legs wider for him, continuously pushing her hips upward in a rhythmic motion. Henry stopped at the bend of her left knee, licking the sweat that had bloomed beneath it, then moved his head to the other side, looking up at her with a devilish smirk.
God, she wanted to shove his face into her pussy. That handsome, lovely face.
“I have to worship all of you,” he murmured, placing his mouth at the innermost curve of her thigh that connected her ass cheek. “Like any good sculptor would.”
Olivia ran her hands over the side of her body, slowly bringing them to her breasts. She cupped them briefly, watching Henry watch her as she pinched at her nipples. She elicited a soft moan, then ran her hands through her hair. Her wildfire hair was busting loose from its bindings.
She shook her head, so the long locks ran frazzled over her face, looking like a delicious hot mess. Henry was looking up at her from between her legs, nibbling at her clit, eyes wide and blazing for her.
“You better eat me soon,” Olivia growled, her hands still tangled in her hair. “My bad, pussy.”
Olivia watched as Henry’s pupils bloomed in his eyes, the curve of his smirk disappearing into a sexy glare. He opened his mouth wide, letting his tongue slither out, then proceeded to lick her from her center up to her clit.
“Ah, fuck!”
Olivia’s hands left her hair and slammed down against the wooden floor. She dug her nails into it, feeling paint being absorbed into her skin. She kept her eyes closed as pleasure rocketed through her body, her hips rolling like eager waves. Henry sucked on her nub, intermittently breaking to lap up her juices along the outer folds of her opening.
“Oh, Christ,” Olivia moaned.
She felt the impulse to pull him on top of her, to feel his hardness deep inside her. But it was the build-up that Henry was a master of, and he seemed to know the exact thing her body needed at every moment. She tried to breathe deeply as she clutched at the floor, the wet suckling sounds taking her closer to the edge of ecstasy.
Her primitive needs took over as Henry sucked harder. She rocked her hips against his face without care, desperate for her climax, desperate for him to feel her response inside his mouth. She hammered hard as she got close, stars on the verge of collapse.
Her orgasm moved through her like running, angry rapids. She crooned and moaned, forgetting entirely where she was, digging her nails into Henry’s skull. Pleasure shot through her, so overwhelming that she heard herself whimpering.
“Fuck, Henry!” She roared his name over and over.
Henry moved his head in circling motions, making her climax last longer, her muscles seizing in sporadic tremors. He held her thighs as they clapped around his head, groaning as he lapped up every last drop of her passion.
When she came down, Olivia roughly settled against the wooden floor. She could still feel the cold sensation of the paint all over her body, random splotches of neon, but she didn’t care. The only thing in the universe that mattered was Henry.
“God, you’re tasty,” Henry murmured.