He lets go of my wrists and shoves my lounge pants down my hips. They pool at my ankles. Then his hand is between my legs, cupping me, and I cry out at the contact. He strokes me through my panties, which are already soaked.
“Tell me you want this,” he says, but it isn’t a question. He knows I want this.
“Yes,” I moan, and I’m trying to get friction against his hand, trying to get more.
He pulls my panties aside and slides a finger through my wet folds. He circles my clit with a slow touch that has my hips bucking.
“More,” I demand. “Please.”
He slides a finger inside me, and I gasp. He’s not gentle. He’s not careful. He’s taking what he wants, and I want to give him everything.
Ifeel another finger join the first, and he starts to pump them in and out, hard and fast. His thumb finds my clit and rubs, pressing down just the way I like it.
My hands find the hem of his shirt, and I yank it up to run my hands over his chest, feel the hard muscle. I want to feel all of him. I need to feel all of him.
He pulls away from me, just long enough to drag his shirt over his head and drop it on the floor. Then he’s back, and I’m finally running my hands over all that skin, the hard ridges of his abs, the solid muscle of his back. I keep my fingers gentle over the still-healing wound on his torso.
He yanks my own shirt over my head, and then his mouth is on my breast, sucking my nipple through the thin material of my bra.
“Off,” I say, and I’m fumbling with the clasp. I get it open, and he pushes the straps down my arms.
He doesn’t waste any more time. He lifts me onto the counter and shoves my legs apart to step between them as he removes the last of my pants and panties, which cling to my wet pussy before he yanks them down my legs and drops them on the floor.
He takes a nipple into his mouth and sucks hard, and I arch my back, a cry escaping my lips. He pinches my other nipple, and the pleasure is so sharp it borders on pain.
He’s a man starved, and I’m the feast. And I’ve never been so turned on in my life.
“Antonio,” I gasp. “I need you inside me.”
He lifts his head, and his eyes are dark with desire. “Not yet.”
Then he's spreading my legs wider, and I think he's going to dive right in. Instead, he grabs the can of whipped cream and shakes it, a slow, wicked smile spreading across his face.
“No,” I say, a laugh bubbling up. “You wouldn’t.”
“Oh, I would,” he says, and sprays a line of whipped cream down my stomach. Then he adds a dollop on each nipple.
He sets the can down and looks at me like he’s admiring a work of art.
"I believe I was robbed of my dessert," he says, then lowers his head.
He licks the whipped cream off my stomach in one stroke. Then he moves up to my breasts, and I feel the soft tickle of the cream before I feel the firm stroke of his tongue. He takes a nipple into his mouth and sucks hard, and my hips buck off the counter. I cry out, my fingers tangling in his hair.
He gives the same attention to my other breast before he moves lower, spreading my legs wide.
I’m bare and open to him, and the way he’s looking at me makes me feel like the most desirable woman in the world. The can is in his hand again, and he sprays a generous dollop of the cold cream right on my clit. I gasp at the shock and jump, but his firm hold keeps me in place.
He sets the can down again, then hooks my legs over his shoulders. He looks up at me, eyes dark.
“Antonio,” I whisper, and it’s a plea. A prayer.
He leans in and licks the whipped cream off my clit.
I cry out, dropping back to the counter on my elbows with a thud. His tongue is hot against my cold skin, and the contrast is dizzying. He licks and sucks, and I’m writhing against him, watching as he feasts on my cunt.
He’s devouring me. He’s eating me like he can’t get enough, like I’m the only thing he’s ever wanted to taste
It’s too much. It’s not enough.
