Page 28 of The Muse
“And what comes after death?” she asks.
“Cleansing. Knowing Shaun, probably rebirth. He does love an awakening.”
She stops dead the moment we clear the foliage, her arse knocking into my quite hard cock because of the abrupt movement. “That’s a lake,” she says, looking around for another pathway. There isn’t one. I chuckle and find myself smiling again,dragging her back onto my cock. “Stop it,” she says. “Not here, for God’s sake.”
“God has nothing to do with my current thoughts.”
“I doubt he ever has.” She looks around again, trying to gauge a way forward. “How do we get out?”
“Maybe we don’t. Maybe I drag you back under that tree and we fuck instead.”
“Scott!” she says, turning to face me.
“What?”
“That’s … you’re–”
My mouth’s on hers before she finishes whatever she was going to call me, my hands pulling her in tight. They’re actually damn close to rucking the dress up and getting on with my thoughts, regardless of this public setting. My fingers travel lower until the light material is scooped out of the way slightly so I can feel the silk of her thigh.
She moans and shivers under me, hands tangling in my hair to deepen the kiss. It’s not something I’m used to, not something I’ve ever cared that much for either, but now I seem mesmerised by it—by her maybe.
We slowly break apart, eyes watching each other carefully. I’m not sure where she’s at, but I’m at home in my bed, with her frame draped all over me like those blossoms were over that rigid piece earlier. Soft on hard. Gentle on rough. Raw innocence on practised experience. The thoughts are sending all kinds of ideas to my brain, all kinds of art and textures.
She blushes about something, a wry smile creeping over her lips.
“What was that thought?” I ask.
She bites her lip. “Nothing.”
“Liar.”
Another smile. Another blush rising through her as she fiddles with her top. “Soooo, how do you think we get out?”
“We go forward. Without fear, apparently.”
I chuckle, as she turns to look at the calm lake again and frowns, and mull over my own words. Forward. Interesting concept given where we’re at in this dynamic we’ve arrived in. Just fucking her doesn’t seem enough now, as proved by my reaction to her wandering around this art. She’s consuming me, and not just because I want to get inside her again. The painting at home. The sketches. And now it’s been her laughs, her sway—her hardened feet landing delicately on the ground as if caressing it gently.
“Walk forward, Seffi,” I murmur, pushing on her lower back. She back steps into me, toes refusing to inch into the murky water at all. “Do you need me to carry you?”
Her blonde hair flicks over her shoulder, eyes coming back to mine. “Carry me?”
“You don’t trust me?”
“I don’t know you enough for trust.”
“She says, having ridden my cock for a night.”
She’s up and over my shoulder before she gets the next response out of her mouth, her body light as a damn feather. “Ready?”
“No. Oh, God.” She grabs hold of my belt, hips squirming about on me until she nearly falls off. “We’re going to drown!” I chuckle and shunt her back into position, arm clamped over her thighs. "And this dress is expensive, Scott, and that water is filthy–”
I look at her arse in my face, tempted to bite it. “What was that you were saying about spanking?”
“Don't you dare!” My foot drops down into the murky water as she starts wriggling again, a smile on my face at what might happen next. Maybe we will drown. Unlikely given it’s only about four feet deep if the signs are to be believed, but who bloody knows. It’s all new, as is she, and I’m damned if I’m going backwards for a while if this laughter keeps edging me forwards.
Luckily, there’s only a foot of water that washes over my ankles before I hit solid ground. I stop and look down, watching the waves of water that ripple across the rest of the twenty feet left to go. He must have put a wide bridge under the surface, rough chicken wire or something on it to stabilise my grip.
“Good lord, that’s amazing. I’d never have seen that,” her voice says behind me.
