Now he’s biting his lip too. “How much more?”
“I made dinner. It’s in the oven. Tri-tip with roasted red potatoes and asparagus,” I say as his hands trail from my hips up my sides.
“Oh?” he asks.
“And wine,” I say. “Red because I heard it has less sugar.”
“That sounds delicious,” he says. “But you know what else sounds delicious?”
Before I can answer, his mouth covers mine. I get lost in the kiss for a moment before managing to pull back, giggling into his mouth.
“But what about dinner?” I ask.
“It can wait,” he answers, kissing me again.
Again, I pull back. “But I worked hard on it.”
“And you know what I’m going to work hard on? You.”
He kisses me again, hard enough that I couldn’t pull away if I wanted to. Although, for the record, I don’t want to.
“Where do you want me?” I ask into his mouth as his hands roam over my body.
“Baby, I want you everywhere. Anywhere. Right here works for me,” he says.
“You want to have sex in your studio?” I ask.
“You mean my office?”
“No, I said your studio. I meant studio,” I tell him, dropping to my knees, smiling up at him before I lay back on the rug.
“I’ve never called it that before,” he smiles, peeling his shirt up over his torso before tossing it aside.
“Well tell me this,” I say, shedding my own shirt and pants. “Have you ever had sex with anyone in your studio?”
Zane unbuckles his pants before meeting me on the floor, crawling his way up to kiss me again. “Honey, I’ve never even shown anyone my studio before. Now no more talking, unless it’s to scream my name.”
After that, it’s all a game of kissing and nibbling and sucking and licking. We go back and forth; me taking his hard and ready cock in my hand, stroking it until he groans. Him taking both my hands in his and pinning them to the floor while kissing me again and again until I am literally gasping for air.
I grind my hips against him, massaging my clit and the tip of his dick. He shifts his weight down so he can stop me from getting him off too quickly, all while putting him at face level with my tits. His mouth goes back and forth, covering each nipple, his tongue thrashing against them, soaking through my satin bra until I am grinding myself against his hard abs. Those abs areribbed enough to provide just the right amount of friction to get me off.
“Fuck,” I let out as my hips rub against his skin.
“What’s the matter?” he asks.
But I don’t answer with words, only moans as I get off by doing nothing but grinding against him.
“Am I really that good?” he asks.
“You don’t get credit for that,” I tell him. “I’m the one that did all the work.”
“Oh? We’ll see about that,” he says grittily, with a smirk. Then he yanks my satin panties aside and drives himself deep inside of me, deep enough that I cry out again.
“Damn, you feel good,” I whimper and he lets out a gravelly laugh.
“Too good?” he asks.
“Shut up and fuck me,” I say.
