Chapter 4

Nick

As soon as I get the door closed behind Riley, I make a beeline for the studio. Kissing her wasn't something I intended on doing today, but something came over me at the door. It was like the conversation we had in the studio, paired with how good she looked and how attentive she was while I was instructing her, took over. Kissing her goodbye just felt natural.

When I get into the studio, I walk over to the drying rack where the bowl she made sits. Seeing it brings me right back to a few minutes ago. The entire time she was here, I couldn't stop thinking about telling her to forget the pottery and come with me to my bedroom. Then she revealed her mother's passing, and I wanted to take her out of here and hold her close to take all her pain away.

As wrong as it is, I feel myself starting to get hard at the thought of taking care of her. It's like my body wants to make her mine and doesn't know how else to respond. Maybe the fact that I haven't had sex in almost a year has something to do with it too.

After a short internal battle, I unbuckle my pants and pull my half-hard cock out. Then, staring at the piece she just made, I slowly stroke myself to full mast.

It's not hard to imagine the way Riley's hand would look on my dick. She was so careful and focused on what she was doing when she was throwing the bowl. Her movements were so precise, gentle yet decisive. God, I'd give anything to have those hands wrapped around my length.

While I'm standing there in front of her work, I imagine that she's behind me, jerking me off. I think about what her cheek would feel like against my bicep as she looks down at where her hand envelops me. Or maybe she'd be more interested in looking at my face, watching my expressions for reactions and changing her technique accordingly.

Would she ask, "Do you like that? Does this feel good?" Or would she just giggle at the way my hips jerk forward without my permission, chasing the friction of her lithe hand?

If she were here, if she were the one touching my cock, I'd put my hand on her forearm. I'd guide her hand the same way I did when she was sitting at the wheel. I'd show her exactly how I want to be touched.

I don't know if she's ever been with anyone, but judging by how shy she seems and the way she ducks her head when I compliment her, I don't think she has. My cock jumps in my hand at the idea of her being untouched by anyone else. I could show her a brand new world of pleasure and teach her about more than just ceramics.

"Fuck," I mutter under my breath when I swipe my thumb over the tip, spreading precum over the length.

I tighten my grip as I continue rolling my hips into my fist. If Riley were here doing this to me, I think I'd already be close. As it is, my pleasure is building at a slow and steady pace. I long to share this experience with her.

I think about all the things I'd like to do with her. Of course I want her hand on my cock, but I need my hands on her body. I wonder if she'd like having her nipples played with. Her breasts are so perfect and perky. They'd fill my hands nicely, and all I can think about is massaging them.

It's not just her breasts I'd like to touch either. I desperately need to run my hands all over her body. What would her skin feel like beneath my fingertips? Would she shiver and whimper as I tease her? Would gooseflesh rise in the wake of my touch?

More than that, I want my mouth all over her. I want to kiss her neck. I need to nip at the sensitive skin of her inner thighs. I can only imagine what kind of noises she'd make in response to that.

As I get closer and closer to my orgasm, the visions of Riley get stronger and stronger. I see her laid out on the work table, her pants thrown to the side and her pussy on full display. My head swims with need. I want Riley so badly, I'd do anything to get her.

If she were really here, laid out the way she is in my imagination, I'd kneel in front of her and pull her to the edge. I'm chasing my own pleasure, but I'd want to give some to her as well. She'd probably taste sweeter than honey, and my eyes roll back in my head as I imagine having my tongue on her pussy.

I'd give her absolutely everything I could. She could have anything she wanted. If she begged for my fingers, I'd finger her until she was screaming. If she wanted me to fuck her, I'd give her my cock until she couldn't walk. She deserves any and everything she asks for, and she deserves to have it as soon as she requests it.

"Oh shit," I gasp as I feel my climax approaching rapidly. My wrist speeds up as I jerk myself off, my hips pistoning uncontrollably. "Holy fuck, Riley."

With a grunt, I'm cumming over my fist. My semen splatters onto the bottom shelf of the drying rack. Some of it lands on the tile, and in the back of my mind, I imagine Riley's below me and I'm painting her face with my seed. God, I just know she'd look beautiful like that, completely claimed as mine.

It takes me longer than it normally does to come down from the high of climax. I'm not sure why, but I think it has something to do with how connected I already feel to her. I don't believe in love at first sight, but I do believe in soulmates. Something tells me that I've met mine.

When I recover from the aftershocks of my orgasm, I tuck myself back into my jeans and grab a roll of paper towels. Then I kneel down and wipe up the evidence of my pleasure. As I'm scrubbing the remnants of my seed away, I make up my mind to claim Riley as my own. My decision to leave teaching solidifies. Nothing can keep me from having her.