Pretty Hurts (Left 1.50)

I come to and find him still between my legs lapping me gently. I push up onto my elbows. He glances up at me and smiles. His full lips glisten with my juice. The erotic vision makes me whimper.

“I’m nowhere near finished with you.” He thrusts a finger inside of me. I flex my muscles, eager to be filled with more than his tongue.

“So tight and ready for me.” He pumps and I match his rhythm. “That’s it, fuck my hand, pretty girl,” he praises, adding another finger. He angles his fingers, hitting a spot that makes me buck.

“Oh, God. I’m going to come, Edgar,” I rasp.

“So do it for me, darling.” He moves faster, and the pressure builds in my belly. I contract around his thick digits, gripping the edge of the table as I come hard. Spent, I fall back on the table. His thumb strokes my asshole, and I gasp, shocked by the pleasure it brings.

“Eventually, I’m going to take you here, too.”

The thought of the taboo act is tempting.

“I can see in your eyes you’re interested. I have so much to show you, darling.”

I’m drowning in the dark promise his voice holds. In his crisp, white, button-down rolled up to his elbows he’s the picture of masculinity. I lower my trembling limbs, and he stands, bending down for a kiss. When our tongues tangle, I whimper as I taste myself. He moves back, and I follow him, sitting up. I run my hand down his chest and cup his cock through his pants. I stroke down his length, impressed and anxious to return the favor.

“Now it’s your turn.” As I pop his top button and unbuckle his belt, he watches me through lowered lids and passion dark eyes. I admire the happy trail of dark hair as I push down his jeans and black boxers. His cock springs up to greet me; thick, long, and curved slightly to the right it makes my mouth water. I grip his base and run my thumb over the large vein that runs on the underside of his shaft. His cock twitches and I pump once, twice, and his broad red tip yields a white bead of pre-come. Swiping it with my thumb, I bring it to my lips and smear it on like lipstick.

“So damn sexy.”

I lick my lips, tasting his salty flavor. I slide off the table, tug his pants down around his ankles, and run my nails down his thighs. Gripping his base, I take him into my mouth, keeping our gazes connected as I take him deep and hollow my cheeks.

“That’s it, darling. Just … like … that.”

He thrusts forward slowly. When I hum, he slams home. I gag, but quickly adjust. He reaches down and grabs the hand I placed on his thigh; the intimate gesture turns me into a porn star. I take him so deep I swear I feel him in my chest. Humming and sucking I bring him over the edge, yelling my name. After taking everything he has to offer, I move back to sit on my heels to catch my breath. Our still connected fingers means more than any of the pleasure we’ve brought one another. I rest my head against his hip, and he cups my neck. This is so much more than two people who have a mutual attraction.

***

Edgar

I wake to the feel of a body beside me. Rolling onto my side, I study the sleeping form beside me. She’s stunning in the early morning light filtering through the window. Her skin all but glows. Relaxed in sleep, the tension around her eyes and mouth are gone. I skim my hand over her smooth head. Exhausted from our play in the workshop, I convinced her to stay. The problem is, now I don’t want her to go. It felt right drifting to sleep with her in my arms. Waking up with her is even better. I kiss my way down to her neck and nibble at her pulse point.

“Mmm. Best way to wake up,” she murmurs groggily. I nuzzle her neck.

“Good morning, darling.”

I lay on my side, and she curls up, facing me with a slow, sleepy smile.

“How are you feeling?” I ask, tracing her cheekbone with my finger.

“More relaxed than I’ve been in a long time,” she replies.

I check her face for any signs of regret. “So we’re good?”

“More than good, Edgar.” She cups my face and pulls me to her. It’s the first time she’s initiated a kiss. When she snakes her tongue in my mouth, I moan as I deepen the kiss and grip her curvy hip, kneading her flesh. We separate and she sighs.

“You want breakfast?” I ask.

“Yes, but I think it’s my turn to cook.”

“You won’t hear me protest. I like the thought of my woman cooking for me.”

“Your woman?”

“Yes.” I pull her to me and roll us over. Straddling her hips, I tickle her sides. Her laughter echoes in the room, light and musical.

She kicks her legs. “I give. I give.”