Tempt Me, Taste Me, Touch Me

She looked up, and Sam was no longer hidden behind his canvas. He was standing in front of her, and she felt so small, so tiny on the ground beneath him. The evidence of his arousal-an enormous bulge behind the zipper of his jeans-took what little breath she still had away.

Oh, God, she thought, not bothering to chastise herself for her girly-ness, please let me be ravished. Without a word he was on his knees and his thumb was brushing away the lingering sweetness at the corner of her mouth. Instinctively, she turned into his hand, and then she was sucking on his finger. The throbbing between her legs intensified, and she wondered if she was going to come again, like this, with a bunch of Cabernet grapes on her thighs, Sam's thumb rasping against her tongue.

"Touch me," she said, and he knew exactly what she wanted, of course he did because suddenly he had moved to sit behind her, his strong thighs pushing into her knees, and he was running his hands down her stomach. He hadn't yet touched her br**sts, but there would be time for that later. All she could think about was the wetness between her legs and the way his fingers felt as they brushed slowly, so slowly down her skin, past her belly button, onto her smoothly waxed mound.

He stopped there, the tips of his fingers barely an inch from her clit. Desperate for him to push into her, she barely resisted the urge to buck up into his hands. He was in charge, and it was precisely where she wanted him to be.

His breathing came fast behind her and she wondered at his restraint, at how he managed to keep his fingers away from her open, ready cunt. She felt his free hand push the hair away from one side of her neck and then the delicious sensation of breath on her skin. Every muscle in her body tightened as his Ii found a sensitive spot, and she knew she was going to come, fingers an inch from her pu**y, his teeth on her earlobe.

She arched slightly-there was no way she couldn't, she completely gone now-and that was when he slipped his fin down that precious inch. He pushed into the wet folds, pressed against her clit, and everything exploded. She tilted her head a bit further to give him better access to her neck, to her shoulder, as she convulsed he slipped one thick finger into her vagina, thumb never leaving her clit as it swirled hard and deep against her. A second finger joined the first, and she stretched wide for him. Her hips moved into him and he was strong, so strong, as his palm pressed firmly back against her. Her ni**les throbbed painfully, aching for him to squeeze them, to suck them.

When she opened her eyes, he was no longer sitting behind her. Quickly, he shifted them so that she was lying on the tarp again, her back pressed into the thick cotton. Sam hovered above her, his chest bare. She couldn't stop her hands from roaming the hard, muscled planes of his chest. He was gorgeous, by far the most beautiful man she'd ever laid eyes on. Or hands. Her mouth found his tanned skin and he was groaning beneath her tongue, her lips. She had to give him the pleasure he'd given her. And even though she was counting the seconds until his c**k was thick and deep inside her, she needed to do this first. For herself as much as for him.

In one quick move, she had him beneath her. "You're strong," he said, surprise evident in his voice, along with admiration.

"I know. I'll always surprise you." She ran her hands, the tips of her fingers, down his torso, down to the buckle on his jeans. "You should be naked when you're painting me," she said, and he smiled. "I wouldn't be painting, then," he said, and she nodded. "Jim Morrison managed to sing." She knew he was envisioning her mouth around his c**k while he painted, just as Jim Morrison had recorded his vocals while being blown by his groupies.

But Vanessa didn't have time for more banter because she had at pulled his jeans off, and her hand rested on the waistband of boxers. Sweet Lord, he was big. And she hadn't even taken the cotton wrapping off. And then she did.

His penis pushed at her, pushed into her lips, and she was running her tongue over his velvety softness. He was hot and hard in her mouth and she wanted to take him all the way down her throat as far as he would go. She couldn't get him in all the way, he was that big, but she tried. When her fingers came around to cup his balls, she forgot all about how she was going to blow him first, how she was going to make him come in her mouth.

She was too greedy for that.

And so she reached for the condom she'd stowed beneath the tarp that morning, only marginally surprised to find more than one condom under there. Great minds thought alike and all that. Swiftly, she slid it down his huge cock.

She wanted to ride him, to sink down on his shaft, hard and fast, but no matter how strong she was, he was stronger and she was on her back again. Beneath his heavy weight, again.

His eyes were black with passion, and he stared at her as he had since the moment she'd knocked on his door. And then it was all a blur, rough and fast and sweaty, as he thrust into her. She stretched wider and wider for him, and he was so hot and hard, and she was so wet, so sensitive that she felt herself coming again before he'd sheathed his whole length.

"Sam," she groaned as her hands found their way to the back of his head, threading through his blond hair. His lips were on hers and his hands cupped her ass, pulling her into him as he rocked harder and harder against her. Her hip bones collided against his and she knew she'd be bruised later but she didn't care, she just wanted him to keep pounding into her. She sucked at his tongue and his lips as he slid his shaft out, then in, then out again in time to her contractions. Finally, she came up for air and he was waiting, waiting for her to join him again.

Somehow, some way, he hadn't come yet. Vanessa didn't believe in the idea of the perfect man, but this was another of Sam's outstanding qualities. He could pleasure her and not fall apart himself. Sam sat up and pulled her with him, her legs still wrapped around his waist. For a moment, they were motionless. Sam sat cross-legged, holding Vanessa on top of him as if she were a bunch of grapes.

Still hard and huge inside her, he ran his hands up from her hips to her waist, up the bottom of her rib cage, to just below the soft flesh of her br**sts. She sucked in a breath and watched her ni**les grow hard again. He wasn't touching her br**sts, just stroking with those hot eyes, but she felt as if there were a thousand tongues swirling over her tits.

"How do you do that?" she asked, and the corner of his mouth moved, though he didn't smile. His hands answered her as they moved to cover one breast and then the other. She closed her eyes as the sensations washed over her. And even though their hips were perfectly still, even though he wasn't pulsing inside her, even though his fingers weren't anywhere near her clit, she felt another orgasm building. She grew fuller and fuller with it as his hands massaged her br**sts softly. He didn't kiss her, but he didn't need to. His gentle touch was her undoing this time-just as his rough taking of her had been minutes ago-and she arched her back into his hands and tilted her face back toward the sun as the orgasm overtook her. Her spasms were slow this time, but each one was bigger than the next.