Page 17 of The Painter and His Poet

I cock my head to the side, a questioning look on my face.

“It’s as though you’ve been carved out of stone,” she explains.

“I’m certainly rock hard for you, Friday,” I blurt out, heat rising up my cheeks.

Fuck, she must think I’m a fool.

“There’s no denying that,” she replies with a soft laugh, not an ounce of judgement in her voice at my stupid remark as she shifts on the bed, moving to reach for me. I shake my head.

“Stay right where you are, I need to taste you first,” I say, pressing my knees against the edge of the mattress as I adjust myself between her legs and kiss her inner thigh.

“Are you sure?”

I lift my head, frowning. “You don’t want me to?”

“Yes,please, more than anything. It’s just…” She brings her hands up to cover her face, but not before I see her blush deeply.

“Just what?” I ask, pressing more kisses against her inner thighs, rising up her stomach until my mouth latches on to her nipple and I suck her beautiful tit into my mouth.

She moans, forgetting my question as I lave her nipple with my tongue, swirling around the tight bud, moving from one breast to the other, sucking and licking.

“Just what, Friday?” I persist, brushing my cheek against her breast, pressing kisses down her sternum, dragging my lips over her stomach towards the place I want to taste the most.

“I’ve only had one person go down on me before,” she admits, “And, honestly, I don’t think he enjoyed it very much. He gave up after a minute. I always wanted to try again…”

“Please tell me you’re lying,” I say, settling between her legs once more.

“I wish I were,” she murmurs, peeking through her hands, her voice trailing off as I press a kiss against her mound unashamedly, the soft curls tickling my skin.

I shake my head. “Whoever that prick was, he clearly has no idea that your pussy is fucking delectable.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

“His loss is my gain,” I say, swiping my nose along her slit, breathing her in, shuddering from her scent.

She gasps and I look up at her, the view fucking perfect as I gaze up and over her stomach, meeting her eyes.

“Did you just smell me?”

“Fuck, yes I did.”

She giggles then, and I already know that it’s a nervous kind of laughter, that she isn’t laughing at me but the fact she hasn’t ever had a man do something so fucking feral. Believe me, this isn’t usually part of my repertoire. Usually I forgo talking, given I’m not particularly good at it, and fuck,hard. But there’s something so refreshing about Friday’s reactions to my words, my touch, and I vow there and then that I’m going to show her just what it means to be adored. Selfishly, I’m glad she’s had sub-par sex, because tonight I’m going to show her just what it means to truly feel wanted, and fuck,I want her.

“Do you always say what’s on your mind?” she asks, resting her hands by her side.

“I try not to most of the time,” I reply. “You seem to bring out the worst in me.”

“Not the worst, not at all. Keep doing what you’re doing, I like it,” she mutters, and I reward her with a swipe of my tongue up her slit, her musky taste exploding on my tongue. She shudders, her whole body reacting beautifully.

“Your scent is the perfect mixture of feminine musk and sweet,sweetarousal,” I say, refusing to curb my thoughts given how much she seems to like them.

“You really do have a way with words,” she replies breathily.

I can’t ever say that anyone has said that to me before, and I reward her with another swipe of my tongue, this time dragging the flat of my tongue slowly from crack to slit, swirling her clit before sucking on the tiny nub gently. She gasps, and I groan against her skin, my dick pressing against the mattress as I rock my hips for some relief.

“And you taste delicious, Friday,” I say, lifting my head, and grasping her breast, squeezing gently. “I’m going to eat you out now, then I’m going to kiss you so you can taste yourself, so you know that I’m telling you the truth.”

“Please,” she moans, her hands flying to my head, her fingers curling into my hair, displacing the colour wrapped around her into a plume of jewel-coloured tones of sapphire blue, amethyst purple and rich, emerald green. The more turned on she is, that I am, the deeper, more vibrant the colours appear to be until she’s glimmering in opalescent, iridescent colour.

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