Page 81 of Serenade Me

But even my mental health has to take a backseat to my need for her at times.

“Hey!” Anca squeals as I slide onto the floor in front of her, pulling her crossed legs straight and up over mine so she’s straddling my lap.

“Shhhh,” I whisper, pulling her mouth down to mine.

She responds to me instantly, and I can taste her own need in her kiss, her body arching against mine, her hips grinding down to meet the gentle rocking of my body.

“Marius… we don’t have time,” she argues, pulling her mouth off mine for a quick breath before crushing her lips against me again.

I don’t say a word, I don’t need to.

We understand each other perfectly when we’re locked together like this.

Her hand tear at my shirt and we rip, then hear the pop of a button as she lifts it over my head. Her hands then pull at her own dress, bunching it up around her waist as I trace my tongue along the length of her gorgeous, smooth neck. God, that smell, I still can’t get enough of the sweet, heady vanilla scent that lingers around her like a soft, talcum cloud. It heats my blood and hardens my cock.

Which, right now, can’t get much harder.

She lifts her hip, just high enough for me to slide the zipper down on my jeans. Suddenly her hands are around me, stroking me, and it takes all that I have not to push her down onto the floor and take her. But I know her, she likes to take her time with me, tease me, feel like she’s in control, taking me to the point where I can’t control myself, and I can’t wait to be inside her.

I close my eyes and bite my tongue, feel her slide off me, as she lowers herself to the ground between my legs. Her hands fumble with my belt buckle until she can free the button of my pants. I lift my hips, helping her slide my jeans down my legs.

And then she’s there, her mouth hot over my cock, taking me deep.

“Fuck. Anca… oh god.” I can’t help but moan, as she giggles, her mouth tightening around the tip, making the breath catch in my throat.

“What? You want me to stop?” She teases me, whispering mere inches from my hardness, her hot breath washing over me, making me squirm.

“No, seriously, what are you, some kind of witch?” I struggle to say.

“No, I’m just, you know, practicing my meditation and yoga, to prepare me for the concert.”

“Well, what the fuck kind of position do you call this?”

“Oh, I call it the ‘make the viola player beg me to fuck him’ pose.”

“Yeah, well, I think you’ve got it down.”

I flip her over to the sound of her squeals and slide down her body, pushing her knees apart as I slide the flimsy material of her panties to the side.

God, she’s so fucking sexy, I can’t help but think to myself as I lower my tongue to trace along her slit.

“Oh, God, Marius!”

“Shhh, I’m meditating,” I tell her, as my tongue wriggles between the softness of her labia.

She squirms again, pushing her hips down, forcing contact of my tongue against her clit. “Fuck,” she moans, as I pull away.

“This is MY move, ‘make the harpy harpist beg the viola player to make her come,’ pose,” I taunt her, sliding my finger against the opening of her sex, dipping the tip into her wetness.

“I’ve never heard of that pose before, it mustn’t be very effective,” she says, pushing herself up on her elbows and glaring at me.

“Oh? Let me show you how it’s done then,” I grin, pushing her back down onto the floor as my finger spread her wide, my tongue pressing hard against her aching button.

“Oh, god… Marius…. fuck.”

I pull off and circle her clit with the tip of my tongue, one, two, three times as she squirms, threatening to crush my head with her thighs.

“MARIUS!”