Last Hit(16)

I rise leaving the jeans trapping her knees and thighs tightly joined.

“My legs are stuck,” she laughs and reaches down to push them off but I stay her hand.

“I know.” The words come out gravelly and rough. I turn her around and slip the thin silk straps over her rounded shoulders and to her elbows and then pull tight. Knotting the excess fabric at her mid back, I fasten her arms to her sides and then with one measured push, lean her onto the table.

“What are you doing?” her curious voice asks.

“I am loving you,” I respond. Taking the bowl of bittersweet confection, I scoop out a healthy portion and begin to paint the bare spaces around her shoulders, down the valley of her spine to the base and around the curves of her ass. She tries to move, maneuver me into touching more sensitive places, but the clothing only tightens around her.

She shivers as if my touch is cold.

“When you are in class and your professor is discussing lines and forms, zones and uses, do you think about me inside you? Do you remember how it feels to have my cock stuffed inside you?”

I twist a finger between her thighs and am delighted by the heat and wetness that greets me.

“God, Nick.” Her breath catches. “How would I pay attention if I’m always thinking about this?” She shoves back against my hand, and my finger slides inside her. Her walls hug my finger, and my anxious, hungry cock jumps response but is stymied by its denim prison.

I keep one finger pumping slowly inside her as I lick off the frosting. Because she is so beautiful, so enticing, I move around, leaving tiny bites here on her right shoulder and there at the spot on her left, just above the mole that is two inches from her side.

Between each caress I tell her how she consumes me. “I think of you always. Art is about passion. In every curve, I see your breast and in every face, I see your lips. In rolling hills of landscapes, I envision the dip in your waist and the rise of your hip. In the tendrils of vines, I see your honey hair entangling me.” The depths of my obsession are laid bare for her. If I were to lose her, I would be nothing. I would burn myself to ashes so that the winds could carry me to the four corners and where each molecule would search endlessly for her.

“You’re always with me, Nick. In my heart and mind and soul. I promise you,” she gasps.

“Then show me how much you want me to fill you. Show me your desire.”

I slide another finger between the tight passage of her thighs and into her sex. She raises on her tiptoes and then sinks back down to welcome the intrusion. The pace of my hand quickens and as she tenses, back arching, head thrown back, the fever inside me expands.

“Yes,” she hisses. “There. Right there.”

I thrust into her with one hand and fumble with my jeans with the other. My heavy, aching cock juts out and slaps against her ass.

“I must have you,” I growl. Her bound legs make the entrance of her pussy tight. I lift her entire lower body off the ground with one hand under her hips and then enter her swollen sex with my hard erection. Her moans are muffled by the table.

Once inside, I lower her feet to the ground, just enough so that the tips of her toes can press against the floor for leverage.

“Tell me how much you want me, Daisy. I must know,” I demand. I withhold several inches of my cock. Her warm heat pulses around the head of the beast.

“Oh, Nick, I want you so much. I love you. I can’t express how much.”

Heart full of giddy happiness, I thrust inside her until I’m fully seated and my balls are thumping against the backs of her thighs.

Her ripe breasts sway above the oak table, the wood scraping her hardened tips with each pass. I reach around and cup one handful and squeeze it so that the peak is abraded by more direct force with each invasion.

“I want to live inside of you,” I gasp. “Your arms are my only home. Your breast my only source of comfort. Your body my only haven.” I glide in and out, lubricated by her desire. Her closed thighs provide an extra sensation as I withdraw. But the tight heat of her cunt is familiar and inviting.

I run a hand up and down her spine, marveling at the strength of her shoulders and the elegant structure of her bones. Her flushed face is barely visible, so I sweep aside her hair and lean forward to press kisses along her cheek, her eye, her forehead, her ear. Everywhere my mouth can find skin, I kiss. “My love for you is so great I fear it will detonate in my chest.”

She laughs breathlessly. “I wouldn’t want that. I need your heart intact.”

“My heart is yours,” I vow.

She turns her mouth just enough to meet my lips, and we kiss wildly with no finesse and all unbridled passion. Our teeth knock against each other and our tongues are a tangle, but it is hotter and more erotic than any experienced woman could conjure.