Lunging forward, he grabs me by my waist.
Letting out a breathless squeal, my hands grip his broad shoulders as he hoists me up onto the kitchen island.
The sound of my laughter bounces off the high ceilings, dying in my throat the second his playful grin vanishes, only to be replaced by a look of pure, unadulterated hunger.
Hazel eyes darken to the color of burnt sugar as he steps flush between the V of my legs. Quirking an eyebrow, he slowly, deliberately, swipes his tongue over the strawberry paint on his bottom lip as his gaze rakes over my naked skin.
“Mmm,” he hums, reaching over to twist the lids off the other two jars. The rich, decadent scent of dark chocolate and sweet strawberry fills the air.
“What. No paintbrush?” I ask, breath catching as I watch him dip two long fingers intoone.
“No,” he replies, his voice a dark rumble. “I want to feel, touch and taste every inch of my canvas. And said canvas...” He flattens the palms of my hands against the counter. “...keeps her hands to herself.”
He lifts his coated fingers to my collarbone, drawing a slow, deliberate line of warm chocolate across my skin. The contrast between the coolness of the air, the paint, and the heat of his touch sends a violent shiver down my spine.
His eyelids hood as he traces the swell of my breasts, knuckles brushing over the sensitive peaks, pebbling them into tight, aching buds.
“Ro,” I gasp, gripping the edge of the island.
“Hold still,” he commands softly. He dips his fingers into the strawberry jar next, bringing the bright red paint down the center of my stomach, swirling it around my navel before dragging it dangerously close to the lacy edge of my panties.
My hips buck, seeking the friction of his thick ridge pressed between my thighs. He chuckles, a wicked, knowing sound as he hooks his fingers into the sides, dragging them down my legs and tossing them to the floor.
“Time for the critique,” he whispers.
Dropping to his knees, he palms my thighs, spreading them wide. Mouth on my stomach, his hot, wet tongue licks the swipe of strawberry paint from my skin, sending a jolt of electricity straight to my core.
Working his way up, he licks the chocolate off my breasts, teeth grazing over my nipple before sucking it deep into his mouth, all while his hands grip my thighs tight, holding me in place.
Then, gently but firmly, he pushes me back with one hand until I’m lying flat, pinching a nipple as he reaches for the last jar on the counter.
“What flavor is that?” I barely manage to ask, voice weak and breathless.
“Blueberry,” he murmurs.
His eyes gleam wickedly as he drizzles thick, sticky paint over my ribs and stomach. The liquid pools in my belly button before he pours a slow, agonizing line further south. I watch, completely mesmerized, as the vibrant blue trail stops dangerously close to my aching pussy.
“So fucking good,” he whispers reverently.
Leaning over me, using the blistering heat of his mouth, he kisses and licks his way down my quivering stomach, lapping up the sweet blue paint. Every drag of his tongue sends a fresh jolt of electricity straight to my core.
My legs flex, begging him to close what’s left of the distance between us. “Oh my god, Ro. Please,” I moan.
He takes his sweet, agonizing time, savoring me as if I’m a Michelin-star meal, until he finally reaches the apex of my thighs. His large hands grip my hips, anchoring me to the counter as he dives in, swiping his hot, wet tongue through my slick, swollen pussy.
“Fuck!” I shriek, my fingers instantly tangling in his hair.
He hums in response, the deep vibration buzzing over my clit. But he doesn’t stop. His tongue is relentless, lapping sweeping strokes from my entrance back up to my clit before sucking it between his lips.
Growling, he alternates between suckling my sensitive ball of nerves and swirling his tongue with firm, rhythmic pressure, making my vision blur before he plunges two thick fingers deep inside my cunt.
A strangled scream rips from my throat, my back arching as my inner walls instantly clamp around his thick digits.
“Fuck, you’re so perfectly wet for me, Sunshine,” he growls,his voice a filthy, gravelly rumble against my soaking flesh. He pumps his fingers in and out in brutal thrusts, his thumb resuming its relentless assault on my clit. “Such a good, needy little canvas. You like how my fingers feel inside your tight little pussy?”
“Yes,” I sob, my heels digging into his lower back as I thrash against his iron grip. My brain is practically melting out of my ears. “Please...”
“Please, what?” he taunts, curling his fingers to drag across that elusive sweet spot, making my entire body convulse in response. “Tell me exactly what you need me to do to you. Tell me how bad you want it.”
