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Stephen lets out a slow groan, his gaze never leaving mine. "You naughty minx, there’s cameras around!” Yet he seems to relish my touch, never staying my hand as it continues massaging his cock and balls through his jeans.
“Chloe, darling, you’ve got to stop,” he ends up whispering into my ears before he lightly bites into my shoulder and the narrow straps of my jumpsuit. “I’m so close to staining myself.” With a last stroke, I withdraw my hand and he plants another long kiss on my neck before leading me to another display.
“And let's not forget about Henri de Toulouse and his mesmerizing 'In Bed The Kiss,’” Stephen declares as we halt before another frame on the wall. Once again, I feel heat rushing through me at the sight of the two half-naked figures kissing under disheveled bedsheets.
My gaze roams over the brilliant palette of colors in the painting while Stephen stands behind me, his broad arms encircling my waist. Leisurely, he pushes back my hair over my shoulder and starts planting kisses along my collar bones and around my ears. I discover that I’m extremely tingly and turned on when he nibbles along the soft shell of my earlobe before lightly licking along the skin. I shudder involuntarily, and he whispers “Do you like that, pet?” into my ears, his heated breath raising goosebumps all over my skin.
When I nod urgently, he says, "You’re lovelier than all the paintings here, doll. You’re a masterpiece all on your own."
His words send shivers down my spine, and I lean back into his broad chest. "Flattery will get you everywhere, Mr. Connoisseur,” I sigh. In the next instant, he pulls my hips right against his cock and I let out an involuntarily loud moan.
“Is that so?” Stephen says and chuckles as I try to twist out of his embrace, unwittingly grinding even more into him.
We share a knowing smile before finally separating and walking towards another display, running through the corridors like children harboring a mischievous secret. In that moment, the museum transforms into a temple of desire, where the boundary between art and reality blurs. We lose ourselves in the intoxicating dance of stolen glances and lingering touches, our hearts and bodies entwined like the brushstrokes on a canvas.
As we stand before another mesmerizing painting, Stephen's fingers graze the small of my back,"Do you feel it too?" he whispers, his voice laced with a potent mixture of desire and vulnerability. I nod, unable to find words that could capture the depth of my emotions.
The pub becomes our next stop, a dimly lit space where the clinking of glasses and murmurs of conversation provide a cloak of secrecy. In a semi-dark booth distanced from the other patrons, we lose ourselves in whispered confessions and stolen kisses. I straddle him as he slides his thumbs under the thin straps of my dress and takes my nipples into his mouth, sucking them and swirling his tongue around them in intense circles while his fingers fuck me under my dress. My throaty groans are masked by the music reverberating through the pub.
The music pulses through the air, a seductive beat that beckons us to move. After I have come twice just from his fingers, he sucks my juices off his fingertips and makes me adjust my dress. “What’s happening?” I ask in a voice clouded with desire. Hickeys adorn my neck; my lipstick is worn off but my lips look plump from being bitten and sucked on for so long.
“Oh look at you, pet!” Stephen groans before planting a last kiss between cleavage. “Let’s dance,” he says next, tugging at my hand as I adjust my hair and shoes. “Let’s go before I pin you down to this table and have my way with you.”
We abandon our seats, surrendering to the rhythm. Our bodies sway in perfect synchrony, drawing closer with each intoxicating step. The heat between us intensifies with every sway of our hips, every brush of our hands.
"Chloe," Stephen whispers, his voice laced with desire, "I dream of fucking you every night. In my bed, on my table in the office, against the wall in my kitchen, on my couch in the living room . . . I want to spread you out and thrust so deep into you, darling." It’s like his words are stroking my pussy because I’m soaking wet and ready to come all over again.
Our bodies press together, our movements becoming a sensual language of their own. The world around us fades away, leaving only the intoxicating blend of desire and rhythm.
But it's the quaint bookstore that holds a special place in our stolen adventures. Surrounded by shelves stacked with stories and words, we lose ourselves in groping and kissing like a bunch of wild teenagers. He turns me around and pins both my hands under one of his own on the shelf in front of me. He grasps my thigh and pulls it away, spreading my legs in such a way that the rump of my ass is slightly raised and I’m leaning forward, as if on a table. The position itself is creating a delicious friction all over my body.
“Oh god, Chloe! This feels so sinful,” Stephen says in a low, hoarse voice as his hands roam over my breasts, slipping under the sweetheart neckline of my dress to pull and pinch my nipples. His breath feels hot on my back and shoulders, and I can hear him panting slightly as his fingers find my pussy. The quick motions of his expert fingers send an exquisite surge of pleasure coursing down my spine where it settled between my thighs, sparking and throbbing around my clit.
He brought his mouth to mine and kissed me passionately, his tongue delving into my depths as though his life depended on it. I muffle a moan because the bookstore is not loud enough to mask the scream I actually want to unleash.
With each encounter, our emotional connection deepens. The conversations we share become more intimate, revealing the hidden layers of our souls. We confide in each other, sharing dreams, fears, and vulnerabilities that we've kept hidden from the world.
One evening, as we walk through a moonlit park, Stephen takes my hand in his, his touch igniting a flame that courses through my veins. He stops, his gaze fixed on me with an intensity that leaves me breathless. "You make me feel alive," he murmurs, his voice husky with longing.
And then the same game ensues: He pulls me into a dark corner and carefully unleashes a small part of the desire banked in his body by the restraints in his mind. He proceeds to unmake me using his hands and lips and tongue, till I’m ready to swallow him whole.
All the reminiscing has made me late to my coffee date with Tiffany, so I rush into the cafe, slightly out of breath, and find Tiffany sitting at our usual table, her eyes narrowing with curiosity as she watches me approach.
"Sorry I'm late." I say, flashing her an apologetic smile. "Traffic was insane."
Tiffany raises an eyebrow, her gaze lingering on me with an intensity that I can't quite decipher. "Traffic, huh? You seem flushed, Chloe. Are you feeling all right?"
I fidget in my seat, trying to compose myself. I know Tiffany is perceptive, and I can't let her see through my flimsy excuses. "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. Just a hectic morning, you know how it is."
She leans in, her voice low and filled with playful skepticism. "Oh, I'm sure it was a hectic morning. So hectic that you didn't even have time to answer your phone?"
My cheeks flush, betraying the secrets I've been trying to hide. I mentally curse myself for not being more careful. "Oh, you know, I must have missed it. Probably got lost in the chaos."
Tiffany's eyes narrow, and a knowing smile tugs at the corners of her lips. "Lost in the chaos, huh? Interesting. So, how was your morning, Chloe? Anything eventful happen?"
I take a deep breath, trying to gather my thoughts. I can't reveal the truth, not yet. "Just the usual, you know? Running errands, catching up on some work, nothing out of the ordinary."
Tiffany's gaze holds mine, and there's a mischievous glimmer in her eyes. "Nothing out of the ordinary, huh? Are you sure about that? You seem . . . distracted."
