Nineteen

LILAH

“Fuck,” I hiss as Andrew drags his paintbrush down the inside of my thigh. The sensitive skin flames under his touch.

From my position above him, I watch Andrew’s brow lift at my outburst.

“You okay?” he asks, appearing concerned. But I know better. He’s enjoying this. And who can blame him?

I’m stripped down to nothing but my panties and he’s turned me into his canvas for the evening.

“I’m fine,” I bite out, gnawing on the inside of my cheek to stifle any other reactions.

With a steadying breath, I try to focus on anything but how close he is to my throbbing core. To cope, I start cataloguing my furniture.

My leather couch is pushed up against the furthest wall and an old sheet is spread out across the floor to prevent paint from getting everywhere.

It would make a hell of a lot more sense for us to be at his house doing this given how much space he has. But this had been one of my stipulations. If he was going to be in control, I at least wanted it to be on my own turf.

“You’re beautiful, Lilah,” Andrew states, dipping his brush into the paint on his palette.

It isn’t the first time he’s muttered that tonight but it still sets off a violent swarm of butterflies in the pit of my stomach. As if I wasn’t quivering enough, his words are both unnerving and reassuring.

Tonight is the first time in ages that I’ve been bared to anyone. I’ve been so consumed with getting my project off the ground that most of my loving has been solo. Aside from that episode in Andrew’s foyer, that is…

Observant blue eyes land on my contracting abdomen and his paint is all but forgotten.

“Oh, you’re shaking,” he says, his voice raw. His eyes blink slowly, like watching me is torturing him as much as it’s torturing me.

My heavy lids slip down over my eyes.

“This is new for me,” I share before sucking in another calming breath.

Letting his brush fall to the wayside, Andrew remains kneeling before me. His handsome face is clouded by desire and he looks so damn sexy as he stares at me like I’m his next meal.

Andrew’s voice drops a few octaves and he asks, “Is it difficult for you to relinquish control?” Strong arms reach to encircle my hips, pulling me even closer to his face.

I want to warn him that the paint he’s smeared on me may get on his clothes, but that seems to be the least of his worries right now.

Shakily, I nod in response to his question, although I suspect he already knew the answer.

“Why do you think that is?” he asks and he’s hugging me to him at this point, my pussy a breath away from his nose.

How am I supposed to answer that?

“I — oh!” I yelp when he buries his face in the crotch of my black cotton panties.

Holy fucking shit.

“Andrew,” I moan out as he continues burrowing his nose, taking in the heady scent of my arousal.

When he pulls away, blue paint is staining his white V-neck shirt. But the hungry gleam in his eyes tells me that he couldn’t care less.

“I want you so fucking bad,” he admits, dragging his tongue across his plump bottom lip.

Biting down on my own, I wait for him to go on.

“Why the fuck did I think I could do this without touching you?” he asks himself, sounding irritated. “Your scent alone is going to drive me insane.”

His words unleash a flood in my already damp panties, causing me to squirm.

Unexpectedly, Andrew drags his lips across my navel, his tongue kissing my belly button as if he’s wanted to do it for centuries and the perfect opportunity finally presented itself.

Shit, shit, shit.

My hands move to his shoulders as he continues to diligently caress me with his tongue. His mouth is on my abdomen but every stroke goes directly to the aching juncture between my thighs.

I don’t think I can take this. My thighs are trembling in his firm hold.

“Your body is perfect,” he says when he finally drags his lips away for a moment.

My clit pulsates so strongly that it’s nearly painful. Why does he have such a potent effect on me?

“The perfect canvas,” he adds as he runs his large hands up and down the backs of my thighs.

My mouth falls agape when his lips reappear at my belly only to drop down to the waistband of my panties. His teeth latch onto the material before he gives a good tug, but he doesn’t pull them down to reveal my mound.

“I need to make you come,” he declares as if his life depends on it.

If that isn’t the hottest thing someone’s ever said to me, I don’t know what is. My fingers dig into his shoulders just a little bit deeper.

Fuck.

His hands are everywhere, singeing me with their touch. Heat spreads throughout me at a rapid pace.

“What kind of spell have you put on me?” he asks and blinks up at me, those beautiful eyes the perfect picture of lust.

Inhaling sharply, my eyes roll back in my head when he tugs at my panties again, this time creating the most delicious friction between my legs.

No other man has ever made me feel so desirable. However, Andrew’s earnest affections are making me come undone.

I want him inside of me right this fucking moment. I need to feel his thickness stretching me to the limit. I need to feel the weight of his pelvis up against mine as we grind into each other.

I’ve been deprived for far too long and I want to quench my thirst with Andrew Knight.

I can’t take this torturous foreplay a second longer.

“I can’t wait, Andrew.” When I push at his shoulders, he receives my message loud and clear before standing up to his full height.

“Are you sure?” he asks me as he begins tugging at the hem of his shirt.

I give a jerky nod as the article of clothing falls in a heap near his feet.

For the first time, my eyes feast on the exposed masterpiece before me. Silky, tanned skin covers hard slabs of perfectly sculpted muscle. Tattoos cover his strong arms.

His tight abdominal muscles yield to the tantalizing V-cut that disappears underneath his jeans. My mouth waters.

The hardened ridges of his eight pack flex wondrously as he bends to remove his jeans.

From the bulge at the front of his gray briefs, I can tell that he’s massive and ready for me.

“Kiss me,” Andrew commands, beckoning me to him.

I go easily, surprised that my legs still work at this point.

Andrew’s kiss is passionate, his tongue waging war on my yearning mouth. As we kiss, he takes hold of my wrists and brings them to his waist. He places my hands at the waistband of his briefs before mirroring the action at my hips.

Pulling down the material of my panties, he finally exposes me to him for the first time.

With a deep breath, I slip my fingers under the elastic of his boxers and tug.

Andrew drops his head so that his lips are brushing my ear and in a low voice says, “Tell me what you want, Lilah.”