He smiled at the sound. “Good.”
My shirt stayed bunched up just below my nipples as he stroked another path from my hip bone to the center of my abdomen. Another gasp flew from me as he shoved the material of my top further up and painted a line right over my nipple. My eyes closed in ecstasy, but then I forced them back open.
I didn’t want to miss any of it. I needed to see.
Cody walked me backward between a couple of easels and glanced around us, presumably for the most secure spot.
I didn’t care. He could put me anywhere right now, and I’d go.
A paint palette was sitting on the table right behind him, and he glanced at it briefly before running those same fingers through it again. He stood there staring again, a predatory calmness replacing his previously rapid breaths as he drew a new line down my chest. He paused on my ribs and dug histhumb in lightly, smudging paint along them. Goose bumps sprinted up my spine at the foreign feeling, and I automatically rose onto my toes, bucking my hips forward.
Cody smiled to himself, satisfaction in his gaze as he looked at his work. “Pretty,” he rumbled in approval.
I dropped my chin and took it all in, the combination of the previous pink with this blue creating a streak of lavender, but before I could say anything, he lunged forward and licked my unpainted nipple. I squirmed and whined as his eyes flicked up to lock on mine as he licked again. And again.
I might have fainted.
He sucked my nipple ring into his mouth and then tugged it lightly between his teeth—I whined again—before he kissed a trail along my collarbone. I could do nothing but hold onto the back of his head—I hadn’t a clue when exactly my hands had grasped him—and hold on for the ride. Suddenly his lips found my ear, and he planted a long, tender kiss just behind it and whispered, “I want you to mark me.”
“Wha—?” I rasped, sounding halfway drunk as he reached behind his head and encircled my wrist.
His gaze blazing, he guided my hand to the palette and pressed my fingertips into it. Then he took my other wrist and did the same, dipping my left even more firmly into the paints.
And then, in a quick, graceful motion that tilted the world, Cody Desmond dropped to his knees.
I inhaled sharply, and that breath went somewhere I could never get it back as he took both of my wrists and guided my hands to the back of his neck. His eyes positively smoldered from below as he pressed my painted fingertips into his skin.
“Mark me, Liem. Here. Please.”
He let go and watched me intently, giving me the space to make a different decision if I wanted to.
I certainly did not.
I dug my thumbs into his neck, deep and sure, drawing a profound groan from him. “Fuck.”
His hands skimmed up my legs, then paused at my waistband, leaving a trail of paint there, too, before he glanced up at me in question.
I nodded.
Then he pulled, freeing my erection, and there was only a half second to feel the free air before Cody swallowed me whole, all the way to the base.
The twin lines I painted down both sides of his neck were automatic, instinctual.
I marked him as he pleasured me so thoroughly that I had to force my lips together to hold back a scream.
32
Cody
When I steppedoff the cruise ship to find everything I regarded as home gone or irrevocably changed, part of me unraveled.
And this morning, as I’d sat on that stool and on display and fell into uncommon stillness, I replayed it all.
Every moment.
Every fuckup.
Every decision that led to my knees digging brutally into the hard floor as Liem Lott’s gorgeous dick slid down my throat.
