No, your tits are what fantasies are made of.
“Please.” She pouts.
Fuck. I can’t say no to her, not when she’s looking at me like that, with those doe-eyes.
“Fine,” I grumble.
“Oh, please, don’t sound too excited.” She chuckles. “Okay. I’m going to keep count on my hand of the things I list off. Ready?”
“Sure.”
“First thing’s first, we don’t sit down until King Theo sits down. Once seated, my napkin is picked up from the left and draped over my lap. Spine straight, shoulders pulled back, chin parallel to the table. Never talk about myself, always talk about the people next to me. Research whom I’m sitting next to beforehand and have insightful questions to ask. When the food arrives, don’t take a bite until King Theo takes a bite. When taking a drink, we silently sip and we always drink from the exact same spot to avoid lipstick getting all over the rim. When wiping my mouth with my napkin, I dab with one finger in the napkin and fold so no food shows on the cloth. Hmm, what else...” She smirks.
“I think that’s enough.”
“But I haven’t gone into the proper usage of spoons, forks, cutting, what to do when you don’t like something, how to sip soup—”
“I believe your knowledge of table etiquette is well-versed, and there’s no need to dive any deeper.”
“If you say so.” Her evil grin spreads across her face. “Well, from what I counted, that’s ten things you have to say about my boobs. Do you need to see them again so you can write sonnets about their beauty?” She lifts up one more time, and I watch as water drips down her chest, over her breasts, and back into the spring. They’re the breasts that men of years ago painted. Wrote sonnets about. And it’s why the poet within me has a plethora of words to describe them.
I wet my lips, and in a steady voice, I say, “They look luxuriously soft, like the finest cashmere. They’re full but small, a great fit for my palm. Pale, with the most addictively attractive nipples I’ve ever seen. Nipples that make my mouth whimper with need.” She heaves a heavy sigh as she comes forward some more, leaving very little space between us. And then she reaches out to my arm and tugs on it, loosening my hand from my back. When she brings my palm to her breast, I let her, because I can’t fucking stop her. I don’t want to. I want to feel her.
I cup her breast and groan as my thumb rubs across her nipple. “Tits made for a goddess, smooth, curved, responsive.” I roll her nipple piercing between my fingers and she moans as her head falls back. “Tight, high, unmeasurable, incomparable... feminine.” So goddamn hot.
“Keller,” she whispers as I cup her breast harder. Shit, I need to stop. I don’t think this is the comfort Theo was talking about but, hell, I’ve dreamed of what it would feel like to hold her tits in my hand, and now that it’s happening, I’m having a hard time letting go. “When you play with my nipples like that,” she hums, her chest lifting as her hands sift through her wet hair, “you make me want so much more.”
One taste.
Just lean forward once and take her tit in your mouth.
You know you want to.
I wet my lips, my body barely leaning forward, my mind at war with itself.
“Yes,” she says, encouraging me, her chest now rising and falling more rapidly.
Fuck, this is getting out of hand.
Before I can stop myself, I take a deep breath and reluctantly remove my hand and tuck it away behind my back.
Her eyes pop open in protest. “What are you doing?” she asks.
I swallow hard as I try to gain control of my tongue. “That was, uh, that was more than ten descriptions. I held up my end of the bargain.”
Still breathing heavily, her eyes heady, she asks, “You’re just going to end it like that?”
“Yes, that was the deal.”
“But... you turned me on.”
“Welcome to my hell, Lilly. I’m fucking turned on every goddamn time I’m around you.”
“You know there’s a way to fix that.”
“Yes, I’m aware.” I blow out a heavy breath. “But once again, we’re not going there, so change the subject, and sit over there.” I point to the other end of the spring.
“I don’t want to sit over there. I’d rather sit on your lap.”
