"Come, Sadie," Malcolm whispered to me. "Come and take me with you."
I cried out, my eyes flying open. I saw everything so clearly—his sweat-sheened face, his hard, pumping body, the play of light and shadow on the ceiling, the bright streaks of earthy red slathered over our skin like war paint. The sea wind rattled against the windows, his flesh slapped against mine, his breath grunted in his throat as he fucked me, and his eyes...
His eyes were dark and vulnerable and so achingly needy that I had to look away. When I did, he bent his head to my throat, opened his lips against the flesh there, and sucked my pulse into his mouth.
I came.
I felt as though my body sucked him inside, bearing down so hard I was afraid I would hurt him, but instead of pain he grunted in surprise and pleasure, and then his hips stuttered in their rhythm, bucking wild, and deep inside my core gushed hot spurts of his seed, pushing into me, his seal, his brand, his mark, his signature on me, making me his. I came silently as he pumped into me, my mouth an open sob of pleasure, and this time instead of breaking apart I felt as though he were putting me back together, his arms and legs curling around me as we orgasmed together, and together we slid down the mound of clay and he strove to wrap me up inside his body, even as my legs hugged his waist. His face was still buried in my throat, his breathing ragged and harsh on my skin, and I reveled in the feel of it dragging over my flesh.
At last he pulled away, but he only pulled back far enough to rest his forehead against mine. We still breathed in time with each other, our hearts in sync, and I closed my eyes, still trembling around his softening cock.
"Sadie..." His voice startled me in the quiet room, and I opened my eyes again to see him looking at me. Leaning in, he kissed me, lightly, then pulled away again. "Thank you," he said.
"Oh," I told him. "Don't mention it. Any time."
He threw his head back and laughed at that before pulling me close again and covering me in kisses, and I wrapped my arms tight around him and reveled in it.
We were a mess, covered in red clay and sweat and pussy juice and cum. Malcolm led me to the bathroom next to the studio room, and together we took a long, luxurious shower. He soaped me up, his hands smoothing over my skin as he gently cleaned me, and the water ran dark with clay as it sloughed from our skin. His fingers found my sore pussy lips and soothed them gently, stoking the fire inside me that burned for him until it was blazing once again.
I couldn't get enough of him. I hungered, dark and deep, for him to fill me up. I certainly didn't love him. I'd only known him for four days. But I wanted to love him. I wanted to fall in love with him. I hadn't fallen in love with anyone in years. And Malcolm... he was so promising. I almost believed he might love me back.
At the very least, however, he made my body sing, and I made him laugh. It was enough for now. When at last he turned the water off, his cock was hard as a diamond again, and he led me out of the bathroom, dried me in a towel as though I were a child, then scooped me up and carried me into the master bedroom. It was white walls and splashes of blue and dark wood floor, but I really couldn't be bothered to note it all as he tossed me down onto the down-filled comforter and slid my legs open, his eager mouth descending on my quivering pussy until I begged him to fuck me, which he did. The chill of the winter outside had crept in through the windows of the bedroom, and together we snuggled down and screwed, our muffled moans a soft duet beneath the covers.
I don't know how many times I came, or how many times he came, only that eventually I fell asleep, cradled against him, my thighs slick with our coupling. The last thing I thought of was how much I wanted to bang him on the terrace outside of the living room, and then I passed out.
Sex is a powerful drug. I slept hard and soundly until the sky was darkening with the coming evening, and when I awoke I found myself reaching for my bedside table again. This time, however, I remembered where I was and turned over.
Malcolm was still wiped out. He slept like a baby, deep and serene, and when I realized I was watching him sleep I had to shake myself out of it. What was I, some mooning teenager? Slipping out of bed, I peeked in the closet and found a huge fluffy white robe. Wrapping it around myself, I padded back down the hallway to the main part of the house. I didn't look at our work of art. I wanted to imagine it a little while longer.
Stepping into the dining room, I winced as my stomach rumbled. I hadn't had anything to eat in... forever, it seemed. I moved to the refrigerator and opened it, but was disappointed to find only a few fine bottles of white wine.#p#分页标题#e#
Well, I thought, it's probably after five, right? I drew one out, located a corkscrew in the drawers, and opened it. The tang of alcohol tickled my nose and made my mouth water. I smiled as I pulled down a glass from one of the cabinets. I was pretty sure Europe was all about the wine, so when in Dubrovnik, do as... well, whatever. I was going to be in big trouble with just wine in my stomach, but I couldn't really bring myself to care. I poured a glass and moved to the windows, staring out at the quiet city and the iron-gray winter sea. I sipped wine, then gulped it. I've never been known for my moderation. I poured another glass and started on that one.