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“Probably,” he said, the word ending in a groan when I sucked his balls into my mouth. Not wanting to waste a good hard cock, I abandoned my oral practice and moved up, dragging my wet pussy up his leg. His breath was ragged when I finally angled the lips of my cunt over his erection and soaked him with my juices in preparation.
“Are you ready?” I asked him as I braced my hands on his hips.
“Yes,” he said.
I pushed him inside.
Oh, god, it felt good. Amazing. Better than amazing. The tension in my body immediately released as he slipped inside me with a stretching sensation that bordered on pain. My head lolled on my limp neck as I sank down onto his cock, my heart hammering in my chest, my pussy already clenching around him in anticipation of my next orgasm. Moving a hand from his hip, I stroked it over my clit in small, tight circles, my slippery fingertip sending waves of pleasure out over my body, spiraling through my loosening thighs. Just having him inside me was almost enough to make me come.
For a long moment I sat impaled upon him and shuddered. He overwhelmed me, flooded my senses until I couldn't think any more. “Anton,” I said at last. “Anton, please. Please, just fuck me. I can't take it.”
He didn't need a second invitation. As soon as the words were out of my mouth he had me flipped over on my back, hiking my legs up over his shoulders as he grabbed the sheets and wound them around my upper body, trapping me as though I were in a straightjacket. I shrieked as he pulled out and thrust his cock deep into my pussy, pushing hard. Fireworks exploded in my head, and I caught fire like a barren field too long without rain. “Fuck!” I cried. “Oh, Anton, please, please, please—”
“Felicia,” he grunted, his iron control fraying at the edges, a sure sign I was getting to him. I moaned and writhed, bucking against him as he pounded into me. My pussy gripped his cock, the tight waves of my release already building inside my belly. I needed him to come in me. I had to have him, all of him, I had to be his again.
“Fill me up,” I begged. “Fill me up. I need you.”
“Jesus,” he said, a prayer or a curse, it didn't matter, only that he shuddered with pleasure, rocking back on his heels and bringing my legs together as he pumped his hips, his cock sliding in and out of my slick pussy. Reaching down he snaked a finger between my thighs and rubbed my clit, quick and sharp, and I came with a howl. My back arched and I rolled where I lay, my entire being rocked with the strength of my release.
His cock pumped in and out of my pussy as I came, his fingers digging into my flesh. His teeth found my calf and he bit me, drawing my pleasure out until I thought I would die.
“Come in me,” I said. “Please.”
He dragged his fingers over my clit again and my body locked down on his cock, and then he came, pumping hard into me, filling me up. It leaked out of my pussy, the scent filling my nose, filling my head, and when he was spent he withdrew and went down on me, licking up his own cum, painting it onto my thighs and pussy lips and clit with his own tongue.
We fucked long and hard. Anton made me come over and over, until I was so exhausted I fell asleep.
I awoke to him kissing me in the dark, the night having descended. Sleepily I responded, enjoying the hedonistic feel of his skin against mine. He stopped kissing me for a moment.
“Your work of art was a success,” he murmured. “Just so you know.”
I grinned at him. “I know that. I'm here, aren't I? That means it worked.”
Running a hand over my face, he returned the smile. “I guess it did,” he said. “But everyone is talking about it. I checked while you were asleep. You'll have the run of every gallery in the city after today.”
I flushed with pride. “You think so?”
“The pictures are everywhere. I don't think there's a single person who doesn't like it. Though some did have something to say about where you put it...”
A giggle escaped me. “How else was I supposed to get your attention?”
“Call?”
“Oh, please.”
“You're right. It was... a grand gesture. And I must say you make a magnificent tiger.”
I blinked, then leaned back, frowning at him. “You mean I sculpt a good tiger?” I asked him.
“No, I mean you look wonderful as a tiger.”
For a long moment, I was utterly speechless. “What are you talking about?”
In the dim light I could practically feel the puzzlement radiating from him. “You said the sculpture was us, remember? Was that wrong?”
“Noooo,” I said slowly. “But I'm not the tiger. You are.”
Surprise touched his features. “Me?” he said. “I thought I was the rabbit.”
