Page 87 of The Painter and His Poet

My ears fill with the frantic throb of my pulse as I slide my palms underneath her arse perched on the edge of the lid, then throw her legs over my shoulders. The action makes Harlow fall backwards onto the piano lid, her arms no longer able to hold her upright as I bury my face into her delectable cunt and feast on her pussy like a manobsessed.

Her taste explodes on my tongue, musky, feminine, fucking delicious, and it drives me wild. Every bottled up, hidden away, disguised and suppressed part of me breaks free from the constraints I’ve locked myself up in, and colour explodes behind my eyelids, like a New Year’s Eve night sky lit up with fireworks.

I feel free. Unchained.

Free to claim Harlow.

Free to give in to my base desires.

I’m wild. I feel raw.Untethered.

I’m fucking crazy in my lust.

So fucking crazy that I frantically lick her pussy, alternating between plunging my tongue into her hole, and sucking on her puffy, swollen clit as I fuck her with my fingers.

She thrashes beneath me, her fingers curling into my hair as she bucks her hips and cries out with pleasure. I can feel her internal walls tightening around my fingers, her heels digginginto my back, and her thighs tightening around my head until I almost can’t breathe.

But I give her what she wants.

I don’t let up.

My fingers pump inside of her in a steady, firm rhythm as I flick her clit with my tongue so fast that her whole body begins to tremble. Fuck, she’s going to come soon and when she does I’m going to take my fill of her. But not yet. Not yet.

“Still my favourite colour,” I murmur as my fingers still inside of her, and I press a kiss against her clit, savouring the moment, enjoying how she quakes beneath me.

“Sterling,” she begs. “Don’t stop.”

“Look at you,” I groan, my cock begging for relief as I remove my fingers and place the flat of my tongue against her hole. I hold it there, nudging the tip of my nose against her clit as she rocks her hips for some relief.

“Sterling, please!” she cries, her fingers yanking at my hair as she makes her needs known.

And I give her everything she desires, knowing that I will do anything to make her happy, to make her mine.

With colours tumbling behind my closed eyelids, I lick up her slit over and over again, lapping at her like a starved animal. I don’t care how feral this makes me look, how base, how fucking unhinged. I just give in to this animalistic desire and lap at her, slaking my thirst on her wetness, slipping my tongue into her core whilst my hands curl over her upper thighs.

“Like that… Oh God, Sterling, just like that!” she moans, her hips undulating against my face, seeking more stimulation.

My thumb finds her clit, my fingers spread out across her lower belly as I circle the tight bundle of nerves and fuck her hole with my tongue. I don’t recognise the sounds emanating from my chest, all I know is that I won’t stop until she comes apart screaming my name.

I won’t stop until her body is lax from an orgasm, until her muscles are nothing but water, and even then I won’t give her any respite, because I intend on pulling my cock free from the confines of these fucking trousers and impaling her on my dick.

“Sterling, Sterling, Sterling,” she pants, and with every flick of my tongue, she climbs higher and higher until I suck her swollen clit into my mouth, forcing her over the edge.

With her hips jerking and her fingers gripping my hair tight, Harlow comes loudly, screaming my name and that makes me want to roar with pride, withownership.

Every scream. Every cry of pleasure. Every moan, groan and whimper. They’re all mine. I’m claiming them right here and now.

“Mine,” I mutter against her pussy, pressing a gentle kiss against her clit as she releases my hair.

Her body goes lax, her muscles turning liquid as her legs slide from my shoulders and she lets out a soft breath. Gently, I place her feet on the fallboard, pressing a kiss against each knee. She needs a moment, and I’ll give her one. But that’s all she’s getting. Just a moment, because we’re not done. Hell, we’re only just beginning.

Stepping back slightly, I reach for the button of my trousers, unhooking the clasp and unzipping them, before shoving both my trousers and boxers past my hips and down my legs, Harlow’s cum seeping into the material, and scenting the air.

“Fuck,” I groan, my cock springing free as I grip the base, giving it a squeeze as my gaze travels over the dips and curves of Harlow’s body. She’s draped across the lid of the piano like a decadent renaissance painting, her beautiful features painted with orgasmic bliss.

I can’t wait to paint her like this.

“You’re so damn beautiful,” I say, bridging the gap between us, not willing to allow another moment to pass. I release my cock, kicking off my trousers and boxers.

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