“Christian,” she breathes like she’s trying to convince herself that we should stop. I’m hoping to whatever god that she doesn’t stop me because I think… Fuck, it’d kill me to have her this close, to have this much of her, and lose it so quickly.
We move too easily. We know what we’re doing and we don’t miss a beat. This is us—unbridled and unfiltered. Just lips, teeth, and tongues at war, and her leg hitches up around my waist. My other hand wraps around her thigh, my fingers burrowing into her skin, and Lana moans into my mouth.
“Lana,” I whisper, and I don’t know for what.
She’s the kind of thing that swallows you whole. I’ve been to several grand, extravagant events for my job—the company I was forced into—and a lot of them took place in museums with art from all around the world. I’ve seen a fuck ton of paintings and sculptures that entrap their admirers. But her… She’s more than that,biggerthan that.
She consumes thoughts, dreams, ideas. She takes up canvases and pages of prose and poetry. She’s the muse for almost all the art in the world. She’s the ocean and I’m just a rogue fish—a tiny dot compared to the immensity of it all.
“Ohh,” Lana moans, her hands twisting in my hair when my lips explore her neck.
My hands move to her waist, under her shirt, and up until my thumbs sweep just beneath her breasts—making her shiver. Lana arches and I know that tell. I sweep my thumbs up higher, grazing her hard nipples, and she gasps against my lips.
“Christian,” she whimpers and my hands are curling around the waistband of her sleep shorts. I give them one soft tug, waiting, and she grinds her hips against mine. Another tell.
I pull the shorts down her hips. She takes another kiss before I’m on my knees and I’m lifting her legs onto my shoulders. Lana tugs at my hair, making my scalp prickle in pain, and she arches again. “Christian.”
I look up at her with a grin. “Yes?”
She’s squirming, breathing heavily, and biting into her lip. “Please,” she breathes.
I kiss the inside of her knee. “Beg.”
She moans. “Christian,” she pants when I bite her inner thigh, my stubble scratching her sensitive skin. “Please. Touch me, please.”
I bite her other thigh.
“Fuck, baby, please,” Lana cries with a gasp. “Please.”
I lick up her pussy once with the flat of my tongue and her sigh sounds like relief. This is my favorite thing to do to her. Foreplay with Lana is like a much more torturous game of chicken—waiting to see who can last the longest before we crash into each other, before I push myself inside of her and make myself at home, or before she shoves me onto my back and straddles my thighs, taking everything she wants from me.
But this…
I eat her out the way I like at first, licking every fold and torturing her by not acknowledging her swollen clit. Lanagrowls, tugging my hair to steer me into the direction she wants me to go.
“Something wrong?” I smirk and look up through my lashes. When she looks down at me, I finally circle her clit with my tongue.
“Christian,” she cries, burying my face into her pussy. “Fuck, please.”
I give her everything she wants. I’ll give her anything she wants. Always.
It doesn’t take much else other than pushing my two middle fingers into her, feeling her tighten around me. I groan against her clit. “You’re so wet, baby. Is this all for me?”
She whimpers, nodding frantically. Her moans are breathier and that’s how I know she’s so close. “Christian,” she breathes, her chest rising and falling faster.
I fucking love the way she says my name, it’s like she erases everything bad that came with it when I was born and writes it a new story. A new definition and a happier pronunciation.
She’s pulling my hair harder now and we’re almost at my favorite part—where I make her come and I keep going to overstimulate her. To keep tasting her and having her and pushing her over that edge again until she’s screaming and pushing my head away.
“Christian,” she pants. “I’m— I’m gonna?—”
I peel her off the wall and lower her to the floor. She groans loudly, bucking her hips before I’m between her legs again and she’s pulling me back down. My tongue moves over her again and again, repeating my ministrations while licking her leisurely for my own pleasure as I curl my fingers inside her.
My other hand pushes the t-shirt up, exposing her breastsfor me. My thumb brushes her nipple and her breath hitches, her hands a second away from ripping my hair out.
“Christian,” she whimpers, her body twisting and going rigid, her hips bucking and closing tight over my ears. “Fuck.Shit,I’m coming. Christian?—”
Her body bows off the floor and I watch her mouth drop open, heavy breaths coming out of her until she’s crying out my names and writhing around. Her thighs twitch, pressing my ears into my head, and when she comes back down, she’s now trying to push me away.
