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His finger moved out of my body and up.
His soaked finger touching my extra sensitive clit.
Oh. Fuck.
That was the spot. That was the moment.
Riff’s left hand then joined the fun too.
He quickly wrestled with the t-shirt I wore.
Demanding his hand go inside the shirt.
And up.
And… up…
His right fingers dancing along my clit.
His left hand settling over my left breast.
Squeezing just enough that it put me over the edge.
Riff knew exactly what he was doing. What to do. When to do it. How to do it.
And you wondered why I didn’t want to leave?
I managed to get some more paint on the paintbrush.
I touched the canvas.
Then my orgasm took over.
I broke, my upper body slammed against Riff’s chest.
My hips thrust forward.
I looked down, seeing his hand up my shirt. Feeling his fingers still moving, even as I came.
His left hand carefully massaged my left breast.
Each gentle squeeze sent another warm pulse between my legs.
My right hand went wild against the canvas.
“You’re fucking perfect, Fi,” Riff whispered into my ear as the soaring pleasure continued. “I love the way you feel. And the sound you make. I love when you come all over my fingers.And my cock.”
I growled and turned my head.
“You better fucking kiss me right now, Griffin,” I groaned.
His tongue entered my mouth a split second later.
He kissed me as I groaned louder into his mouth.
Fingers still moving between my legs. Hand still playing with my left breast.
My hand still painting. Or attempting to paint.
