Page 40 of Portrait of A Lost Artist
“Ha-ha.” Veronica lays the words sarcastically in the air. “I don’t hear any complaints from you.”
“That’s ‘cause I don’t have any.” I retort, watching her eyes trail from my pupils down to my lips before she leans forward.
In the dim lights of the bedroom, Veronica kisses me with fervor. Slow and meticulous, as per usual with her. She languidly wets my bottom lip with hers, a small gasp escaping her as I place a hand on her hip, her thigh sliding up my side until the sole of her foot presses against my ass. I intensify the kiss, drawing her waist firmly against mine and exploring the depths of her mouth with my tongue.
I register the subtle movement of her chest against mine with each passing minute, the unspoken plea for ‘more’ a tangible thing I savor. She offers a tentative bite to my bottom lip, but I return the gesture against her full mouth, using my free hand to elevate myself slightly, seeking a more intimate angle for our kiss.
Much to my internal liking but external distaste, Veronica lifts her hips just the slightest, grinding them upwards and earning a sharp intake of breath from me. I haven’t been with anyone in so long, and none of the ones I had before had made me feel just like she does.
Even more surprising, it is, when I try to continue kissing her, but she speaks against my mouth before I engulf it whole. “You’re hard.” She points out the obvious, though I feel the tips of my ears heating at the notice.
I pull away cleanly at that moment, establishing a bit of distance between us. “I’m sorry. Uh, shit, I think I ruined the moment...”
Veronica laughs softly, huskily, going straight to my stomach when her arms wrap around my waist to bring me over her, in between her parted legs. “You haven’t ruined a thing. I—It’s gotten difficult to resist as of late.” She’s out of breath as she speaks, earning some chuckles from me when she looks down at the tent on my pants.
“Stop looking at it.”
“Why? Does it make you shy?”
“It gets me horny, which is even worse.”
“Well, I think it’s time we talk about this.” Veronica lets her ankles roam over my uncovered legs, and I try not to get lost in the expanse of her soft-looking thighs as my shorts ride up her skin from how loose they are, resting at her hips, showing a glimpse of her pink underwear. “I think it’s too soon for me to, you know, go all the way.”
“I get that.” I interrupt her quickly, but she doesn’t let me move.
“I didn’t say we couldn’t do anything else.” She mumbles groggily, placing both ankles on the back of my thighs and caging me in before she brings her hips up once again, humming at the way we feel when connecting in the middle. Heat spreads through my body, causing me to close my eyes at the slightest touch. “I want you to get off with me, Nathan.”
I hiss at her words, expanding my hands on her ribcage, pushing forwards and opening my eyes to look at her. “Illustrate here, sunshine. My mind can go a million ways we can get off without actually having sex.”
She pivots, her hips shifting back as she arches her back, then takes my hands and wraps them around her head, hiding her face in the crook of my arm before pressing her body against mine. “Please, just touch me.”
Despite being lost in the desire she stirs in me, I rest my head on hers. This electrified and connected sensation is unlike anything I’ve known; I typically avert my gaze when sex is involved in my life. But in this moment of pure ecstasy, I feel a pull to open up to her, at least this small fraction of who I am.
But my voice doesn’t let me, trapping my bottom lip in between my teeth and doing my best to listen to her. To the soft ‘please’ that she lets out every once in a while, between us, calling my name, securing me in place.
I am head over heels for Veronica Del Real.
And I’m not sure I’ll ever get to leave Havana if I continue down this path.
