Page 95 of My Sweetest Agony

My pussy ripples around him, my body primed and getting ready to explode.

He issues a rumbling groan of appreciation, dipping his head to capture my next gasp as he reaches a hand between us and twists my clit. “I can’t wait to feel your pussy clamp on my cock as you come, Ivy?—”

I do it as soon as the word leaves his mouth, and he bites off a curse and kisses me intensely, moving his fingers across my clit viciously as he plunges unfathomably deep and hard enough to rock me across the canvas.

My eyes drift closed, the world spinning around me, a violent rebellion of my body and heart until I can’t contain it any longer.

I gasp and erupt.

Tears stream down my temples in a hot rush.

All the pain and agony I’ve felt over the last several months dissipates on a cloud of pure ecstasy as he continues to pump into me. His hips snap. His cock stretches me as my pussy ripples and clasps at his length, trying to keep it inside, trying to keep this bliss going forever.

His fingers move over my clit, helping to drag out my pleasure, the sparks of release tingling through every limb and bright flashes of light against my closed lids drawing a shudder through my body.

My lungs burn, and I finally realize I haven’t breathed, forcing myself to suck in a gasp of air as the orgasm threatens to pull me completely from the safety of his arms.

Cam pulls his hand from where our bodies connect and grips my chin, forcing my head toward him and consuming my mouth with a kiss that’s all desperation and promise and tangle of tongues until he groans and comes hard, emptying himself inside me and pinning me to the canvas.

The faster my chest moves, trying to give my body the oxygen it lost, the more aware I become of his slick skin pressed to mine, his still-hard cock embedded in me along with his release.

And the more I relish it.

His scent fills every breath I manage to take, and I suck it down greedily, wanting more, needing it.

Camden Usher is fucking dangerous.

I knew it the moment I opened my door and saw him at my house.

I just never knew how much.

Until he stole my soul like this.

24

IVY

I hardly register it when Cam scoops me up off the canvas and carries me into his bathroom. Barely understand what’s happening when he holds me up with one arm and cranks on the shower with the other, then presses languid kisses along my collarbone, my neck, my tear-stained cheeks, my lips while holding me steady.

My mind and body both float in that heady post-orgasm space where I can’t care about anything, blissfully allowing Cam to take control just like I did out in the studio.

He tugs me under the spray, and the hot water starts to soak into my skin, washing away the paint that must be covering us by now. Everything in me sags, giving in to the exhaustion, relying on Cam to support me physically and emotionally because I am utterly spent in both respects.

Gentle hands scrub a loofah across my wet skin, and goosebumps erupt over every inch of my body, a little moan slipping through my lips.

Cam chuckles low, burying his face in my neck as he continues to wipe away the evidence of what he just did to me. “Don’t worry, Ivy. I’ll get you to bed.”

My thighs clench at his words, every part of me remembering what we did with a dull ache, and my legs tremble so badly they can hardly hold me up. Only his strong arm wrapped around my waist keeps me from falling over as he washes my body and hair with such care that more tears slip from my eyes that I pray he can’t see under the spray.

This is the real Cam.

This is the one I saw that he tried so hard to hide.

He switches off the water, wraps me in a fluffy towel, and dries himself off carefully, with one hand on me to ensure I stay upright, then scoops me back into his arms effortlessly. I don’t have the energy to do anything except snuggle against him, pressing my face to the damp skin at his neck, breathing in the vibrant citrus scent that always clings to him that must be from the soap he uses.

Considering how often he must wash his hands to cleanse away the paint, no wonder he always smells like it…

He pads across the studio and sets me down beside the bed, pulling the towel from around me so he can dry me fully, before he settles me onto the mattress and tugs the sheets up around me.