Page 23 of Mine for 24 Hella-Hours
I’ve never done that before but I’m willing to try. “Yes,” I reply in a delighted tone.
Stacking the oranges in a bowl, he adds several strawberries, frozen grapes, and pomegranate seeds to the mix.
The bowl rests next to me as he flashes a devious grin. Planting himself between my legs, his breath in my ear, “You’re going to enjoy this, wildflower.”
The pulse between my legs increases, ticking like a time bomb.
“What’s your safeword?”
“Kawasaki,” I respond quicker than lightning.
A half-choked laugh erupts from his chest. “Alright. Are you allergic to any of this?” He nods to the bowl and I decline. “I like smoothies, I have every imaginable fruit you’d like in my freezer.”
“This looks great,” my reassurance coaxes a grin and an appreciative nod.
Gripping the orange in the palm of his large hand, he starts fingering the sliced fruit.
The veins in my cheeks boil, painting my skin ruby.
“You want me to do this to your pussy,” he demonstrates what he’s about to do to me. Rubbing the gap in the middle and inserting two fingers inside.
Goddammit.
The potent scent of the orange is coating the air with a fresh erotic scene. The dripping liquid slightly relieves the high degrees my body creates when I’m near this man. He hasn’t even touched me and I’m on edge.
Slick wetness gathers between my thighs. The erotic sensation of the orange droplets prickling my breast and stomach is coming from the squeezed fruit in his hand.
His murky eyes dart from my body and lock with my eyes as he devours me with them. Swiping his tongue across his bottom lip, he bites the edge.
The sweet juice cascades down the valley of my breasts and over my navel. His dark eyes catch the movement the second his other hand stops it and smears the fluids away.
“I’ll do the tasting down there.” His hand reaches for my breast but instead of meeting his warm touch, I’m under the mercy of the frozen grape he presses to my pebbled nipple.
The frosty ache sends pleasurable waves to my clit. Soft moans grace us as he continues the sweet assault on my other nipple with a second grape after ditching the orange.
It feels so fucking good.
I’m sensitive and awakened. The overthinking and the anxiety are long gone. I’m flooded with pleasure.
“You like being at my mercy without knowing what’s to come?”
“Y—yes.” Another moan slips past my lips as he trails the frozen fruits down my abdomen. My body writhes underneath him. He’s not touching me and I’m barely hanging on, ready to beg for whatever he would be willing to give.
The chill is only eliciting my desire the lower he drags it down my body. Luka takes his time. Getting to know my reactions; Getting to know the vessel before him.
The cool grapes vanish and that’s when my eyelids unlock.
Luka peers at me through hooded eyes of his own. I’m not the only one affected by this.
“With your permission, I’m going to tear these stockings.” The authoritative manner he maintains altogether with respect toward me and my belongings is an energy I want to seal in a bottle for later use.
“Do it.”
Tenderly, he stretches the thin fabric over my unwounded thigh, and a hole rips apart. He does it again. And again. The lovely curling line on his face appreciates his dirty deeds as he continues tearing through my stockings. “This is just the beginning.”
My ankles are next in line for attention. He kisses each, removing my heels carefully along with the remains of the torn fabric. “Are you wet enough for me?” A knowing expression contours his face. In a swift motion, my panties are plucked from my body.
“Much better,” his gaze hovers all over my curvy, petite frame. “I prefer you naked.” Eyes meeting mine, he adds, “Your beauty emanates in all its forms, Dylan.”
