Page 54 of Forbidden Fruit

“What are you doing?” she whisper-yells.

With sharp and frantic movements, I bunch her dress at her waist, then lick a path up her inner thighs and kiss her pussy above the fabric of her underwear. She might hesitate, but her hands grasp the material nonetheless, giving me full access to where I want to bury myself.

“I’m starving,zitella. Please let me taste you.” I don’t recognise myself. I’m desperate for her. I need to gorge myself on her taste to satiate the hunger building inside me.

“What about the kids?” she murmurs, sounding uncertain.

“You’ll have to be very quick, and very quiet. But you’ll do that for me, won’t you,zitella?”

Her pupils darken with lust as she nods.

My hands caress her thick and smooth thighs as I glide them up, then hook the fabric of her panties and drag them down her legs. I pocket them without thought before diving into her sweet cunt.

The sweet tang of her taste explodes on my tongue, and I suppress a groan. I wish I could take my time, bring her to the edge dozens of times, and refuse her what she craves until shebegs for it with her sweet whimpers. We’re already pushing our luck. The threat of being discovered by my kids could paralyse me if she didn’t writhe so prettily on my mouth.

“Throw your leg over my shoulder and open for me,” I command in between licks.

Her hips search for more friction with frenzied back and forth motions. With the new position, I gently insert a digit into her pussy while lapping at her clit in a figure of eight loop that drives her mad.

Vanessa grasps my hair in a tight fist while her other hand covers her mouth. Her breathing picks up.

Our gazes lock as I increase the pace with my finger and beg her to come with my eyes. Hers close as she throws her head back and she clamps on the digit, her pussy pulsating with the force of her climax.

She’s stunning, abandon written across her soft features in the most exquisite portrait of pleasure. I regret not having time to luxuriate in this moment and committing all her reactions to memory, though I already know they are engraved in my brain. She’s carving a place under my skin, reaching for the heart. I’ve never been so scared, but I’m helpless to stop it.

I remove my finger from inside her and stand, slipping it into my mouth. I’m not willing to waste a drop of her.

Vanessa clamps her lips shut, but the spark of desire that still resides there shines bright. She stands on her toes and smacks her lips onto mine, licking herself from my mouth, making me painfully harder. Without a shy bone in her body, her hand finds my aching cock, but I stop her.

“I need to touch you, Daddy. Please,” she begs.

I close my eyes to gather myself. We’ve already been gone too long. “Come to me, tonight. They go to bed at eight.”

It’s an order but also a question. It’s everything I told her not to do weeks ago, but I need her like air. And she needs me, too. Ihaven’t felt genuinely desire for so long. It gets me light-headed and ready to take risks. Whatever I got at the club was a band-aid, a release, a transaction. Nothing like the dizzying newness of what Vanessa and I are creating with stolen kisses and secret trysts.

She beams at me and kisses me again, brief and promising. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” she says loud enough for the kids to hear. She kisses them goodbye and leaves with a wink.

I will my cock to soften and lose myself in my parental duty until I see her again. Time flies without me bracing for the upcoming gloom. And the next time I see her, she will know how much I want her.

TWENTY-NINE

AT THIS POINT, LINO HAS BLUE BALLS

My hand trembles on the keys as I enter the house, shrouded in darkness. Unlike last time, I don’t hesitate on the main floor and make my way up the stairs and to Lino’s bedroom with single-minded focus. Light streams under the threshold. After one sharp soft knock, I let myself in, need coursing through my veins and short-circuiting my rational mind.

Lino’s reading a book by the window, relaxed back in a lounge chair made of dark blue velvet. He hasn’t changed into more comfortable clothes, but the first three buttons of his white pressed shirt are open to reveal salt and pepper chest hair that makes me feel weak at the knees. His neat black slacks cling to his muscular thighs like second skin and I can’t wait to peel them off.

His steel-grey eyes focus on me when I close the door behind me. With deliberate movement, Lino bookmarks the page and discards it. His attention sets my skin on fire and I lick my lips. I wait for him and bask in his perusal, desire coating me and the room like a heady perfume.

I intentionally put on a short black dress that hugs my form and leaves my legs bare. The chilly night is long forgotten as Linoremains seated and silent. I squirm under his scrutiny but don’t make a move.

Lino lifts his index and middle finger and motions for me to approach, the gesture intentional and salacious. I bite my lip, smile coyly and obey, my heart buzzing with anticipation. When I’m within reaching distance, Lino’s patience frays. He grasps me by the back of my thighs and moves me to straddle him, my core lining up with his already hard cock.

We don’t kiss nor talk, suspended in the in-between.

Every other moment between us was pure opportunism.

This is intentional.

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