Like Dragonflies

Her knuckle taps at her bottom lip as she thinks. Normally, I don’t like when she hides from me, but she appears to simply be thinking, not hiding. “Well, until now, I never really considered what I wanted. My mom urged me to go into political science. But…”

“You don’t want that.”

She shakes her head. “Not at all.” Her cheeks burn pink and she shyly looks away. I give her thighs a little tickle to draw her gaze back to me.

“Tell me. I’m not going to laugh.”

“I know,” she says with a smile. “I think, if I had a choice, I’d want to teach art. I love it. When I was in middle school, I had the most awesome art teacher. Mr. Gillespie inspired me to think of art as more than just a class, but a medium for expressing my emotions. Since Mom always made me bottle things up and force a smile, art helped me explain the turmoil inside that I wasn’t allowed to speak of. If I could help use art to give voiceless souls a way to speak, I would love that.”

The passion with which she tells me this is catching. It makes me want to tell her my hopes and dreams too.

“When I tagged all those buildings and got my ass in trouble, it was still art,” I explain. “I didn’t paint anything crude or derogatory or racist or any of that shit. I painted with purpose.” I smile as I think of the roller skate. “A lot of the folks in Duncan had their businesses for decades, but time and the inability to keep up with the growing, nearby community of Ashton Hills hindered their success. Some of those businesses were eyesores. They couldn’t afford to have shit repainted. So, I did my civic duty. I gave them a free facelift.”

She lifts a brow. “A free facelift, huh?”

“The mattress store for instance. I painted a herd of sleeping sheep on the side of the building. It was cool as hell.” I shrug. “Sure, I fucked with their property, but I’ll have you know, none of those businesses ever painted over my art.”

“What do you want to do? If you had the choice,” she says, her green eyes twinkling.

“I’d want to get paid for my art. I think people would pay for it if they could.”

“I think they would too.”

She places her palms on my chest and starts moving her hips slowly. The movement wakes my dick back up and soon I’m hard inside her. I groan each time she lets out a raspy moan.

“I always wanted to live somewhere where art was appreciated. Like out west. Seattle or LA. Some place where art is a way of life,” I tell her absently, my attention leaving reality and getting lost in the fantasy come to life right before me.

Her green eyes are hot with lust as they lock on mine. I’ve never seen anything more fucking gorgeous than the way Sage—my girl—rides my cock like she owns it. She leans forward to kiss me and I grip onto her breasts. When I tweak her nipples, she moans and works her hips harder. With each frantic grind of her body against mine, we float higher and higher.

Up, up, up, and up.

I abandon one of her tits to give her pussy some attention. The moment my fingers find her clit, she whimpers. It’s still sensitive from her last orgasm, but I don’t give her a reprieve. I pinch the bundle of nerves, loving the way she cries out.

“Mars,” she exhales, her breath hot against my lips.

I tug at her clit and then roll it between my finger and thumb. Over and over again, I work her closer to the edge of bliss.

Up, up, and still further up…

“That’s it,” I croon. “Almost there, babe.”

Her pussy contracts hard around my dick and her body jolts with spasms of pleasure. It forces me right into my own climax. I come with a guttural growl. She grows too weak from her orgasm to continue moving, so I thrust up hard from beneath her, making the springs of the mattress squeak in protest. Hard enough that she cries out in surprise. Our bodies slap together, the wet sounds in unison with our heavy breathing. As soon as the last of my cum releases into her, I pull her to me and then roll her beneath me. I bury my nose into her hair as I seek out her ear with my teeth.

“I’m going to end up getting you pregnant,” I tell her, my tone matter-of-fact. “I just can’t stop when I’m with you.”

She tenses which makes me nervous. I lift up so I can see her telling green eyes.

“What do you think about that?” I ask.

A smile plays at her lips. “I think I want whatever I can get with you.”