Page 20 of The Guy Sure Looks Like Plant Food To Me
It does the opposite, only doubling her excitement. “So it’sdefinitelygoing to happen then?” She squeals.
I grab her by the waist and bring her into me, tired of dancing around the obstacles thrown in our path today. “Can I have you to myself yet?”
Runa’s smirk is seductive, so confident and sultry it just makes me want her more. “Since you’re asking so nicely.” She tucks a pink strand of hair behind my ear. “We’re gonna have to figure out a way to get this color in town. I’m absolutely obsessed with it.”
At this point she’s messing with me, delaying the inevitable just to see how frustrated she can make me now that I’ve voiced my physical need for her. “I’ll shave it off right now if you don’t kiss me.”
She throws her head back, letting out a perfectly cinematic witchy cackle. Before I’ve even taken a full inhale she’s already stolen it from my lungs, capturing my mouth in a kiss so full of fire my entire center heats. I feel her hands under my thighs, scooping me and lifting me up. Every inch of my body immediately becomes hot upon contact with her. My legs squeeze her hips, my ankles cross behind her back, and only the thin fabric of my underwear separates her flesh from mine.
I devour her, shaky hands carving along her flesh with a hungry need while my lips make unspoken promises to her mouth. Runa moans, the sound vibrating through my being directly into my core. “I need you, now.”
My plea is all the time I can suffer to spend away from her lips, a smile tugging at the corner of hers as she walks us into the bedroom.
Runa drops me to the bed gently before taking a few steps back. She pulls her hair down from the claw clip that’s held itin place all day, the long, raven strands tussling softly down to her low back. She gazes down at me, the attention of her stare forcing me to come up to my elbows.
It feels like a thousand spotlights on me, drying my mouth, forcing me to lick my lips while I wait for her to make the next move.
“Take your clothes off.” Runa’s voice is commanding, but gentle, and she hums appreciatively when I move without any delay.
A crooked smirk paints her face, satisfaction at the way I don’t hesitate.
Not when it comes to her.
“You too,” I muster out my own shaky command.
My heart races, Runa’s movements so slow and deliberate that it feels like thousands of beats pass between her reaching for her shoulder strap and pulling it down.
I want to tear her clothes off. I want to rip them off her body with my own hands and then stare at her until I’ve memorized every inch of her skin.
Instead, I just watch, biting my cheek and breathing through a pounding in my chest that’s so intense it feels like I may faint at any moment.
“Breathe,” she reminds me, a soft smile on her face as she drops the last piece of clothing still on her.
There’s no point though.
Why breathe when there’s no air left in the room? Why breathe when dying right here, right now, would ensure I’d die the happiest I could ever possibly be?
Runa slowly climbs onto the bed, one knee at a time before she crawls over me, forcing me to drop all the way to my back. “Is there anything you don’t like?” She asks, her eyes scanning over every part of me.
The question takes me aback because it’s not something I’ve been asked before, not something I’ve thought about or taken the time to explore with previous partners or myself. “I-I don’t really know.”
My confession is just as uncertain as I am.
She smiles like she understands, “We’ll figure it out together then, just let me know and I’ll stop, okay?”
I nod, watching her as she lowers herself closer to me. When her lips touch my breast, I hiss, the soft, pillowy flesh so warm as she parts them slightly through the kiss.
“Ah!” The gasp is involuntary, a feeling building through my spine each time she pulls away and presses her lips to me again.
Her left knee moves to where my thighs split, resting right against the place where my heat builds.
I feel the wet of her tongue when her mouth closes around my nipple, my back arching on command from the ripple of pleasure. Runa’s chuckle grows from a quiet to a dark and seductive sound, tantalizing, as if to say everything she does is now on purpose.
There are no mistakes here.
I whine, squirming with each flick of her tongue against the hardened bead, my core tightening as each wave of pleasure rises higher and higher than the next, waiting for the tidal wave to crash down.
“Runa,” I whimper her name past my lips, grinding against her leg to feel some sort of relief but only making it worse.
