But he didn’t answer. And that killed my mood.
Heading back to my room, I caught the faint sound of music drifting up from below deck. Curiosity tugged at me, so I followed it downstairs. When I pushed open the door where the music was coming from, I was surprised to step into a pottery studio. Konflict sat at the wheel, his bare arm slick with clay, sculpting something out of the spinning earth with focused, steady hands.
He looked up when he noticed me coming in and my breath caught instantly.
“I—I can’t sleep,” I whispered, shy, not really sure what to say. “Can I stay with you?”
His gaze traveled over me, lingering on every inch, and I didn’t miss the spark of heat that flickered in his eyes. I was wearing a sheer nighty and nothing but a thong underneath, leaving little to the imagination. My nipples were already hard, my skin practically aching for his touch, and he could see all of it. I was certain he could sense my arousal from across the room, the way my body responded to him, my pussy already wet with anticipation.
“Come here,” he said, holding out his hand.
I moved to him, took his hand, and let him pull me close. He slid back so I could sit right in front of him on the bench. Instantly, his body heat wrapped around my back. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, just sweatpants, so I could feel the bare skin of his abs pressed to my spine through the thin fabric of my nighty.
His clean hand slid across my stomach, pulling me in even tighter. I felt his hard dick, grinding into me, and I knew then I wasn’t the only one losing sleep over this uncontrollable need to feel each other.
He leaned forward, his head right at the curve of my neck. Hisbreaths were warm and soft next to my ear setting me on fire.
“What are you doing down here?” I asked, trying to break the tension between us.
I felt him slowly breathe me in, nose dragging across my skin and lips grazing the side of my neck. I shivered at his gentle touch. And when he spoke against my ear, it got worse.
“I couldn’t sleep either.”
I sucked in a breath, trying to steady my heartbeat.
“So you decided to do pottery to find sleep? I didn’t even know you did this.”
He pressed a light kiss to my neck, his hand on my stomach caressing me gently. My body was burning up.
“It’s one of the only things that helps me escape, besides cooking.” He whispered it so quietly in my ear, it almost sounded like a confession of love.
I swallowed, suddenly even more aware of just how much I wanted him.
“Can you teach me?” I asked.
His clay-smeared hand slid slowly down my arm, his fingertips barely skimming my skin until they found my hand. Konflict intertwined his fingers with mine then guided our joined hands to the spinning cone of clay.
“It begins with a gentle touch on the clay, like this,” he whispered in my ear.
His hand guided mine on the clay, both of us letting the soft, cool earth slide under our fingers, smoothing as we went.
“The clay has to be wet, so it glides in your hand easily,” he said again, breath warm at my ear before he inhaled deep.
His dick hardened against my lower back, and my pussy just kept getting wetter, matching the slick feel of the clay in our hands. Slowly, his hand moved down from my stomach, lower, much lower, until his hand cupped my pussy, with only a thong between us.
“It has to be wet, just like this pussy is wet for me. Soaking through this thin fabric.”
His lips found my neck again, then parted as his teeth grazed and caught my skin. Then he went down to kiss my shoulder, right where I got my new tattoo—my crown of flowers with a K in the middle. His silent kisses on my tattoo told me everything I needed to know. He loved it, being inked on my skin, being a permanent part of me. It was the same feeling I had every time I thought about the Venus over his heart. It was as if I’d marked his body with my seal, so everyone would know he belonged to me.
He moved back up to my neck, covering it with more kisses. At the same time, his hand stroked my pussy through the delicate fabric, while his other hand kept guiding mine over the clay. A surge of sensation crashed over me, so intense I couldn’t hold back a moan.
“Hmmm… Konflict…”
“We go up and down… Real slow… To stretch out the shape of the clay.”
He moved my hand slowly up and down, mimicking the motion on my body at the same time. His hand slid between my thighs, parting my lower lips and slipping between them. Just his touch made me even wetter.
“Hmmm… fuck…”
