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I want his cock out. And then I want it inside me.
Andhewants to talk about painting.
“Do I remember… what?” I pant, rocking against him.
“Painting, princess.” He grins down at me, hot and dirty, and smooths my hair back from my face. “You were fucking gorgeous. Wild and free. Paint with me again.”
I thought we were going to fuck.
No, Ineedto fuck.
“You want to paint? Right now? Instead of sex?”
Heat flashes across his face, his eyes hooded and dark with lust as he steps away from me. “Hey now, no one said anything about one or the other.”
My whole body is thrumming, blood hot and skin prickling with want. It clouds my ability to think, or to make sense of it when he grabs the canvas he was working on when I walked in—still half bare and dripping with thick, sensual globs of paint—and sets it against the wall. He places the palette of those same thick, rich paints right next to it, then beckons me over, pulling me against him and running a hand down my body. “No reason to have to choose. I want it all.”
I grind against him. “Then take it.”
His grin is positively filthy. “Give it to me. Sit on my face, right here. Give me that taste I need while you finish this painting for me. Wanna see what you do with it while I make you come on my tongue.”
I laugh, heat flashing through me at the crazy suggestion. Then I realize he’s actually serious when he hands me a brush, and all that heat turns into molten, liquid lust that pools hot and slick in the cleft between my legs, like my body is begging him to take that taste he just told me he wants.
“Is that a yes, princess?”
“Yes,” I pant as he quickly finishes stripping off my clothes and lowers himself to the floor.
He pulls me up to straddle his face, hands hard and commanding on my hips as he drags his tongue through my center.
Fire licks in its wake, sending a demanding spike of pure need and urgent want through me.
“Fuck,” I gasp, lurching forward and bracing my hands on the wall, one on either side of his dripping canvas.
He groans and does it again, licking me like candy. The rough, end-of-day stubble on his chin abrades my thighs, sending little zings of sensation through me in perfect counterpoint to the warm slide of his tongue through my slit.
“So fucking good, princess.”
“God, yes,” I pant, flexing my thighs in an effort to lift away from his face so he can breathe.
He yanks me back down with a throaty laugh. “No hovering. I need you to soak my face. Get it wetter than that canvas, babe. I want to drown in you.”
I can’t.
I want to.
He doesn’t give me a choice, holding me against him tight enough to bruise and burying his face in my pussy like he has gills.
“Dante, shit, please… don’t… don’t stop,” I beg, shamelessly grinding down against his wickedly perfect tongue and riding it hard.
The hungry sounds that spill out of him spur me on, and I lose myself in it. Inhim. In the hot, musky scent of sex as it mingles with the rich, earthy paint odors. Dante eats me out with a messy, single-minded determination that has me right on the brink of coming before I can even catch my breath.
Then he reaches up and pushes two fingers in my mouth, twisting his face to the side and pressing a hot, open-mouthed kiss against my inner thigh while I suck them.
“Get them sloppy for me, princess. And grab that paint brush.”
I moan and nod, lathing his fingers with my tongue before sucking them deep. I’d do anything for him right now.
“So good for me,” he mutters. Then he dives back into my pussy and slides his wet fingers out of my mouth with a pop, barely giving me a chance to whine about the loss before I’m gasping and cursing him out when he slips them into my ass instead.
