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“I don’t know anything with certainty, but the sight of the stars makes me dream,” I quote Vincent Van Gogh in response because what I want to say is that I watched her fall asleep and wished I could know what she was dreaming.
I laugh when I recall her friend’s joke about me fucking her feelings.
I’m the one she should have warned.
She has completely and utterly ruined me and being this close to her, when Venus is right there makes me desperate to sink into her body and claim her like I’m the pillaging god of war him
self.
Like she can read my thoughts, she says, “These clothes are stupid. Let’s take them off.” She stands up and slips her shorts off and pulls her tiny tank top overhead. She pulls her hair free of it and a cascade of dark ringlets spill over her shoulders. With nothing between her and the view, she appears to be rising out of the foam of the waves crashing behind her. Just like Venus in Botticelli’s famous paint - but so much more beautiful than a mere mortal could capture on a canvas.
The underlying gold of her brown skin is set ablaze by the moon’s adoring light. I make quick work of shedding my shorts and grip my dick and stroke it. “Come here, my Venus.”
“I like that,” she murmurs and then sinks down, so her knees straddle my thighs. She cups the back of my neck and she plants a soft, wet kiss on me. The scent of citrus whipped with sea and sky fills my nostrils and shreds my equilibrium.
I grip her hips and pull her down, impaling her with my rock-hard dick. She unleashes a moan so guttural, I’m afraid I’ve hurt her. “Goddess, are you okay?”
“I have never been better in my life,” she pants against my lips. We find a rhythm that’s as timeless as the universe and is ours, alone.
I wrap an arm around her waist, cradle her head in my free hand and hold her flush against me while I lose myself her most exquisite pussy. She’s a tight fit, but so perfect. We barely move, but the rapid roll of her hips causes explosions of pleasure to every nerve ending in my body.
“Regan,” I call her name
“Call me Venus… be my Mars…”
“You want me to go to war for you, baby?” I demand and she groans into my mouth as I grind my hips against her, pressing as deep, but not as deep as I’d like, into the softest wetness I’ve ever felt.
She has always been my Venus. But instead of her cool easing my fire, every second I’m inside only makes me hotter, hungrier.
While I worship her from the front, the rising sun crowns and veils her in the light of its first rays, from behind.
Her expression is fierce with lust. Her hair is a wild mane of sable coils and curls. The vast sky seems to exist solely to canvas her untamed beauty.
I don’t recognize the growls and grunts she pulls from me.
I barely know my own name.
I am undone by the sunlit goddess who just took me like she owns me.
I know we’re just fucking.
But damn, if it doesn’t feel like flying
I know we’re not supernatural mythological beings.
But when we're together like this, I'm certain we could make the whole world bend to our will.
I’m a fool. I know this deep in my bones because if my life depended on it right now, I'd say this kiss was flavored by portent and the promise of so much more.
She drapes her sweaty, sexy body over me. And instead of pulling away, I let myself sink deeper into the quicksand and wrap my arms around her.
“That was perfect. You are perfect,” I whisper into the crook of her neck.
She sighs and nestles closer. "You’re a sweet talker.”
“Can't be helped. I’ve been kissing a goddess with a mouth made of sugar."
She peeks up at through the thick tangle of glossy lashes.
