Along for the Ride

Her gaze fell to the bulge in his jeans, and he noticed the trip in her breathing. She was very aroused. Her body was emanating waves of desire, her glance becoming bold. This appeared to be going exactly where he thought it might.

“Does that feel good?” She gave an insinuating smile, looking up from his groin to his face, where the paintbrush traveled through his beard in regular strokes.

Was she referring to the brush, or to the obvious bulk of his growing cock?

He caught the teasing look in her eye and squatted down beside her, leaning on the strong, taut line of his thighs.

“It feels good, yes. You should feel it, too.” He gave her a dark smile and leaned forward, stroking the outline of her face with the dry brush. He followed the fullness of her cheeks, slowly, in a firm but gentle caress. Her mouth opened. He could see the tip of her tongue behind her teeth and sensed the rapid increase in her breathing. He wondered if she was aware of just what a hot little fireball she was.

He traced the line of her jaw, and she dropped her head back, her eyes half-closing as the brush slid down over her neck. Then her hand was on his arm, guiding him. She lay back over the cushions and drew him down with her.

Cal knelt beside her, leaned over her, and followed the lines of the brush with his mouth, tracing them around the voluptuous curves of her body. Beneath her breast the prying brush released a quiet moan from her throat, and he pursued it there. His tongue nestled into the warm moist crease of skin, his senses immediately immersed in the tangy salt of her skin and the aroma of exotic flowers that danced together with her own scents. He took a subtle bite. Her body writhed and lifted. His hand automatically closed over her undulating hip. He wanted to feel that movement from the inside; he wanted to feel her body writhe like that against his cock.

He closed his eyes and concentrated. Her breathing was louder, the scent of her body growing denser as her craving deepened. He turned his face to her legs and ran the brush down the inside of one thigh, then back up the line of the other. Her pelvis flexed up, her mons moving, exposing a glimpse of the hidden silkiness below. Cal contained his urge to bury his face there. He contained the need to press his erect cock deep inside her warmth. Instead, he gently rolled her over.

She was awash with heat. She was opulent, yet taut with restrained lust. He looked at the back of her knees. The hollow was so perfect, like the wind-smoothed surface of the sand dunes.

“I want to find all your most sensitive spots.”

She moaned into a cushion.

He smiled. “You are a very beautiful woman.” Cal whispered as the brush traced her spine. She hid her face in her hands, her breasts crushed hard against the cushions. She wanted him badly -- every atom of her body told him that. Deep in his core, something primitive roared with pleasure.

“Your spine is so supple.”

He dropped to trace her spine with his mouth, moving down her body, crawling down the length of her. She wriggled, whimpering, when he brushed a teasing line of sensation across the top of each thigh, under the curve of her buttocks, her thighs rolling apart to reveal her pink slit.

He darted his tongue down into her cleft, feeling the soft, damp flesh of her sex give way. She swore aloud, twisting her head to look back at him. She was flushed, her hair wild, hanging over her face. A quiet plea escaped her open lips.

“You’re like a cat in heat,” he whispered. “I could smell you from across the room.” He gave a dark chuckle.

“You’re in a similar state yourself, if I’m not mistaken.” Georgie nodded at his fly.

“How was I supposed to work, with such a distraction, hmm?” He lifted his eyebrows, accusingly. “Now all I want to do is fuck you.”

Georgie groaned, her fingers brushing against his thigh. “I couldn’t help it; I wanted you.”

The brush clattered to the floor. He knelt up, swiftly drew his T-shirt over his head, cast it aside, and moved to undo his jeans.

“In that case, it looks as if we’ll have to sort this little problem out ... right now.”

He quickly pulled his cock free, fisting the rigid shaft in front of her. She looked down from the bare skin of his chest to the erection that sprang from his jeans. He ran his hand over the length of it as she watched, his cock twitching with need in response. She moved, her body turning toward his. She had barely rolled over to open her legs wide and let him in and he was down on top of her, his hands moving along the inside of her thighs, the shaft of his erection hard against her pelvis. He ran the swollen head of his cock back and forth over her clit. She squirmed and gasped, her arms out, her hands making fists against the floor. He increased the pressure and speed. She began to shudder -- she was very close. He continued the assault, observing as her mouth opened and she panted. Her body arched and she wailed, pulling back as her hips bucked up in release.

He pinned her body down with his hands on her shoulders, then leaned down to take a kiss, his tongue probing hers.

“Keep still,” he ordered when her body lurched up against his. Then he was inside her, his blood pounding inside hers. Her hips were angled to take him in, her flesh melting onto the hard, hot shaft.

“Christ, you’re wet,” he uttered through gritted teeth, and rammed inside her. Georgie cried out in ecstasy, her head falling back. Her hands clutched at him, then closed over his back. He moved his face into the curve of her neck, his mouth sinking against her skin; she felt so good. When her warm, wet sheath clutched at him, it sent torrents of sensation through his groin. He drew back then reached further inside, each internal jolt freeing a demand for more. She met his movements, matched each rhythm. Their eyes were locked, urging each other on in the quest. She struggled for breath, pleading for more. Her hands tightened on his arms, her sex contracting and beginning to spasm.

He fought for the release, his hips jerking frantically. She had him so very deep, he struggled with it to last, or be finished. He felt the heat of her climax sucking at him, its gossamer caresses tightening on his throbbing cock. Then his hands were on her hips, holding her down hard and tight as he thrust fiercely for the prize.

“Don’t move,” he instructed. She watched him, panting. He pushed one hand between them, arresting her throbbing clitoris with the stroke of his thumb, the stem of his cock inside the curve of his fingers. She cried out in ecstasy, another sudden climax springing free from the pressure of his touch, inside and out. He gave her a dark smile, then rammed his cock home. Her head rolled back, her body clutching at his throbbing, distended cock, over and over. He jerked mightily and came in a sudden, dazzling rush that drew a curse from his lips.

He pulled his clothes on and wandered barefoot to the easel. Georgie watched his gorgeous arse disappearing into the jeans with a slight sense of regret; she was all too ready to sink her claws into it and keep him beside her for a whole bit longer. She felt mellow inside, like liquid gold settling into a mould. She smiled to herself; she was almost purring aloud.

The sound of the door opening drew their attention. A man came in, whistling as he walked, drawing a pair of cobalt Oakley shades away from his eyes. He cooed with pleasure when he saw that Cal was at work and walked over to the easel, looking beyond, toward Georgie. He put down the metal camera case he had in one hand, and a small black backpack he had slung over his shoulder. As he studied the painting, then the model, he wafted the collar of his shirt, white linen, crisp and cool and very suited to his dark, almost Latin looks. To Georgie’s surprise, his voice had a slight Scottish lilt to it when he spoke.

“Mm, hello,” he purred. “What a babe.”