Reckless Kiss

“No, I’m sorry.” Shaking my head. “You’re right. You’re absolutely right. It’s a fair question. I don’t know the answer.” I look down at the paper. “Maybe she wanted them to come to her?”

“I would come to you.”

I smile and make two strong lines for the outside of his thighs. His powerful legs are lined with muscle all the way to his calves. I’m inching my way higher when his voice breaks the silence.

“Tell me about her art. What made you want to be an artist like her?”

Sitting straighter, I think about this. “She said you become a part of life through art. She said she found her voice in her art. She loved Georgia O’Keefe. Her boldness and wildness… She had this quote by her that said, ‘I could say things with color and shapes I couldn’t say any other way.’”

I think about the quote now and how true it is.

“She seems like a really interesting lady. Problematic… but hey, aren’t we all?”

Our eyes meet again, and I laugh. “Apparently so, even when we try not to be.” Pushing off the couch, I carry the sketchpad to where my naked love reclines. “Take a look and see what you think.”

He catches me by the waist and pulls me down on the cushion between his legs. Taking the drawing, he holds it up as I lean my head back against his shoulder.

“This is amazing.” He kisses my temple. “One thing bothers me. Right around here.”

He moves his hand around his eyes and brow, and I frown. “What’s wrong with it?”

“He doesn’t look as happy as he ought to be.”

Tilting my head, I feel a grin pulling my cheeks. “How can we fix it?”

The sketchpad is forgotten as he turns me in his arms. “I have an idea.”

Heat is in his eyes, and I climb onto my knees as our mouths collide, ripping that small towel away and straddling his lap. He cups my breasts through the top of my thin dress, and I shrug out of the sleeves, allowing it to fall around my waist.

I love when he devours me, and I rise higher on my knees, lifting them closer to his mouth. Only this time when he kisses the soft peaks, making his way to my straining nipples, I jump when he pulls one with his teeth.

“Oh…” It’s not a cry of pleasure, and he frowns.

“Too rough?”

I kiss his forehead, working my way down to his cheeks as I slide lower. “Must be tender from last night… or after dinner… or skinny dipping…” I punctuate each time with a kiss.

He grins, moving his hands under my skirt and grazing his fingers along my slippery core. “We’ve done it a lot. Do you need a break?”

“No, thank you.” I smile, covering his mouth with mine again, pushing his lips apart and sucking his tongue.

He kisses me back with equal desire, and I slide my fist up and down his thickening member. He groans, and I feel it in my core.

“I want you inside me.” I whisper hotly.

Gripping my waist, he turns me on his lap, and with one deep thrust, I arch, pressing my back against his chest and rotating my hips as I ride him in reverse. His hand slides to the front of my lap, fingers circling my clit, and I rock faster, sending him deeper, feeling him hit the spot that makes my eyes roll.

“Oh, God,” I gasp, squeezing him inside me.

“Fuck, yeah,” he groans.

I love it when he groans. I love it when I can hear the struggle in his voice.

Reaching over my shoulder, I hold his face and drag my tongue along his neck, tasting the salt of his skin, the scuff of his beard.

His fingers move faster, and heat rises in my legs. We’re frantic with desire, desperate for more of each other, for everything. We chase each other’s mouths and skin. He cups my breasts, teasing my hardened nipples as we move.

Desire prickles beneath my skin, tingling every nerve ending. Orgasm races through my blood. His thrusts grow sharper, plunging deep as I break into shudders on his lap. His arm is a band of iron holding me tight, pressing me against him as he comes, as I ride with him higher, lost in a swirl of heat and lust and union.