I bite back the beginnings of a smile as I spread the sides of the white cotton, drinking in the sight of her pale pink knickers and bare skin. I place my palm over her breastbone, the tanned skin of my hand a sharp contrast to the pale colour of her skin and in my shirt. Her heart beats steadily, her eyes darkening as though a little drugged. A little lust drunk.
‘Slide down your knickers.’ Without a word of protest, she slips her thumbs into the sides, slipping them partway down her thighs. ‘That’s enough.’ If she takes them off, this might not go the way I plan.
I inhale deeply because I can smell her. Smell the remains of her lingering floral perfume. Smell the evidence of our night.
‘Do you have any idea how you look right now?’
She laughs huskily. ‘Probably pretty ridiculous.’
‘Wrong, trouble. So wrong,’ I say, taking her hands and curling them around the edge of the countertop. ‘Now, close your eyes and don’t let go.’ As she does as I ask, I lean behind her and take the top off the bowl, lifting out a piece of frozen ruby red fruit. ‘No peeking,’ I whisper, rolling the frozen grape over her nipple.
‘That’s. .. ’ Her whole body stiffens. ‘That’s so cold.’ Without a reply, I roll the grape over her other nipple, taking the first hardened bud into my mouth.
‘Keir!’ Her whole demeanour is conflicted. Hot and wet, cold and a little torturous, she doesn’t know how to react, though I sense she’s about to lift her hands.
‘No cheating. No peeking and no moving your hands.’ I pop the grape between my teeth, reaching around her and grabbing another from the bowl. This time, I press the coldness against both nipples at the same time. Paisley hums her appreciation—pants a little as I ghost my mouth over hers.
‘Want a taste?’ She nods, and I burst the grape with my teeth, kissing her, feeding her the cold sweetness from my tongue.... as I swap the warmed grape in my hand for a colder one.
‘That’s not too bad.’ Eyes still closed, Paisley smiles to herself as she chews, and all I can think is how beautiful this all is. This time, we’re getting together. The things we’re discovering. The unexpected joy in each moment.
As I trail the new frozen grape the length of her body, she whimpers a little.
Moans as I trail it over her pussy.
Gasps as I part her lips.
Cries out as I press it to her clit.
Rub. Glide. Slide.
I press my mouth to hers. Kiss her. Suck her tongue. Lick the sweetness from the seam of her lips. Trail my cold fingers all over her heated skin.
‘More,’ she whispers as I pull my fingers away.
‘Greedy.’ Chastisement or delight? Definitely the latter, but she’s sore. So I won’t do what I want to do.What I long to do.
‘Touch me,’ she says, rocking against my fingers and the cool grape. When I don’t answer, her eyes flutter open. ‘Please.’
I don’t trust myself to speak, so I pull the grape from between her legs. Her breath halts as I paint her arousal over her lips. She’s smiling a lazy half smile, her lips shiny and wet. I want to devour her—bend her over the worktop and make her beg. But this morning is more than that.She’smore than that, I think, as I pop the grape into my mouth, splitting it between my molars to feed her again.She whimpers so beautifully; her chest heaves between us, and the sound of her need echoes through the room. I can almost taste it, and it’s such a sweet agony.
I press my lips to hers in a passionate kiss. The earthy salt of her and the sweetness of the grape, her soft cries and how she tries to press her body against me are satisfactions of the sweetest kind. My heart swells, my cock like a pole between us, rock hard for my little deviant.
‘Here endeth the fruit lesson.’ I pull her panties back up her thighs, unable to conceal my smirk as I pull away, reminding myself that I’m trying to be good.Even if she isn’t.
‘Fruit lessons, huh?’ Before I can answer, she has the bowl gripped to her chest and is flicking the little frozen cannonballs at my head.
‘Oh! Fuck! You’ll put someone’s eye out!’
‘I know something else that’d put someone’s eye out,’ she taunts, her gaze on my dick, tenting in the soft cotton of my shorts. ‘Butnooo,’ she taunts. ‘Instead, someone’s being a big. Fat. Tease!’
She punctuates her words with grapes pinging off my thighs. Gives a whole new meaning to grapeshot. And, ‘Fuck!’ her aim is good, and her tits bounce so perfectly as she moves. ‘Ow, watch out!’ I round the breakfast bar as she continues to hammer me with grapes.
‘You’re running scared!’ She giggles delightedly, following me to the other side of the room.
‘I most certainly am. I might never father a child again—not if you catch me wi’ one or two well-aimed grapes.’
‘You can see yourself having more kids?’ she asks, suddenly halting and momentarily lowering the bowl.
