Her pussy is so perfect it looks like one of O’Keeffe’s paintings. It glistens with her juices, her thighs coated with them, shiny smears on my coffee table as I admire the sight while pumping my cock.
Kat raises her head, looking at me expectingly.
“Why did you stop?” Her abdomen rises and falls as she breathes heavily. My kitten is all stirred up, and I’m hard as steel, stroking myself slowly more to calm my cock than to get off.
“Tell me again how much you don’t want me.” I can’t hold back a smile.
There is a flash of annoyance in her eyes.
“Because your body is clearly not getting the message.”
I glide my hand along her thighs, my thumb tugging at her pussy lips but not touching where she wants it so bad.
“You are an open book, kitten.”
“With many pages.”
I actually have to hold back laughter. “Did I tell you speed reading is my forte?”
I give her plump clit a soft caress with my thumb.
Her thighs fall open wider. She is so shameless I might come just at the sight of her.
“Say it, coward,” I tease her.
Her gaze hardens. “If you don’t keep going, I’ll kill you.”
I can’t help grinning, giving her another soft stroke with my finger, watching her squirm for more, as I keep pumping my dick.
“Is that what you learned on the streets of Bangkok? Teasing, running away, and hiding?” I press my thumb to her clit and hold it there. “What else did you learn?”
She starts pushing into my hand.
I lean and give her slit a long lick, but don’t stop and keep going, rising above her, dragging my tongue up her belly, between her breasts, then up her neck and finish at her chin.
She grabs the Cuban links around my neck and yanks me down, kissing me impatiently.
But I pull back and drop to my knees again.
“You are so wet, kitten, there is a puddle on my coffee table,” I say with a smile as I kiss the inside of her thigh. Teasing her might be my favorite thing from now on.
“It’s just a table,” she murmurs.
“It’s an antique.” I plant little kisses on her skin, stroking my erection.
“Is that a problem?”
“No.” I lick the skin around her pussy, and she mewls. “Not if you tell me it’s because you are soaked for me.Only me, kitten.”
There’s a fucking ocean on my table. Anyone who’s ever been to this villa knows not to touch my coffee table. Days ago, thiswould’vebeen a problem.
“This coffee table is imported from Iceland,” I explain and do a long lick on the spot where her legs connects with her body, “and made out of volcanic rock”—I repeat the motion on the other side—“from a volcano that erupted a thousand years ago.”
I drag my tongue along her center, licking up her juices.
Kat moans and lifts her hips off the table, pushing herself into my face.
“Ar-cher,” she whispers forcefully, grabbing my hair and pressing my face to her. “Fuck… Please.”