Running With Devils

Twenty-Four

I turned to face him carefully, looking up at him. His face had been so carefully sculpted. His eyes were a siren song, luring me into them until I was so utterly and profoundly lost in them.

"How," I asked laughing nervously.

Levi's head tilted subtly as he gazed down at me.

"I'm not the artist right now, darling," he said tracing my jaw. "Do what you will."

"You want pain," I said slowly. "I'm not very good at torture."

He shook his head. "I'm not looking for torture as you see it," he breathed. "It was torture enough seeing you in that chair and taking my needle so well. I would give anything to just watch and admire."

I blinked. "Just watch?"

"Just watch," he smirked.

I bit my lip softly. "I suppose I owe you for your work," I said with a nervous laugh. I looked at my shoulder again. "Okay."

Then he stepped back, pulling his stool towards a simple desk in the corner. Then he picked up his sketchbook and pencil.

"I hope you don't mind if I use you for reference," he said, flipping the sketchbook to a new page.

What made this so electrifying? This was worship like I had never experienced before. He would commit every line of me to I'me memory and carve it into himself.

I slowly slid on top of the desk, legs crossing at my ankles as they dangled beneath me. His eyes set on me as he settled into his seat, pencil ready.

"Are you ready," I asked, my voice was hoarse.

He chuckled. "Darling, I'm on your time. You start when you're comfortable."

It was at that point that I realized how I had never felt so beautiful. So seen. Sitting on that desk I felt like a goddess sitting upon her altar awaiting her offering.

Heat spread through my body, enough to spur me into motion. I wanted to become that goddess and experience my body in its heightened form.

My hands moved up my body, slow enough to stoke the flames within, to my breasts. He hadn't started his sketch. He simply watched me as he promised. I gripped onto the tender flesh, massaging them. I almost imagined it was his hands that touched me.

"You are a vision," he breathed. "Living breathing artistry."

I let his voice wash over me, the goddess within me purred at the praise. One hand descended towards my panties, ankles uncrossing and legs spreading wide as I slid it between my thighs.

"How's this," I asked innocently, tilting my head.

"Don't look for my pleasure," he instructs gently. "I want to see yours. Show me what it looks like for a mortal to transcend."

My cheeks heated, but I nodded.

"Alright," I said simply, moving back on the desk and tucking my legs beneath me so that I was on my knees. "It looks a bit like this."

I reached behind my back, unclasping my bralette. My breasts became heavier against my body as it slipped from my shoulders and his eyes became focused as he watched me toss it at his feet. My hands returned to their positions, one grasping at my breast the other between my legs. My fingers slipped beneath the lacey fabric and sliding between the silken folds until I found my clit.

"I am above you," I breathed. "Riding you. I would take your cock and own it for however long it suited me."

I slipped two fingers into my pussy, a low moan rolling off my lips like a prayer as I moved them torturously slow inside myself.