Total pages in book: 28
Estimated words: 27128 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 136(@200wpm)___ 109(@250wpm)___ 90(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27128 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 136(@200wpm)___ 109(@250wpm)___ 90(@300wpm)
“Put your feet on my knees, preciosa.” The command is followed by a firm choke. “Do it, now!”
As I look at Antonio from the side of my face, muscles ribbon beneath his gorgeous taut jaw. The erotic scenario sends me scrambling to place my bare feet up.
He pulls at my spaghetti strap until it pops, and one of my breasts is exposed. The hand clasping my neck slides there to taunt my nipple. All while my heartbeat claws up my throat.
“Manny—”
“Don’t you think you’ve done enough talking?”
“I...”
One last hard pinch causes my nipple to pebble. Antonio secures the raging pearl with a tit clamp I never saw coming. Perhaps the tiny contraption was in his pocket all along. He’s holding up the pink vibrator with its dual clitoral action.
“Now, if you do not cooperate, I may screw you so long your throat may bleed from screams of pleasure. Would you like that?”
Who’s to say I wouldn’t? How many orgasms would—I stop my racing thoughts. That was rhetorical.
Antonio yanks my hair back with one hand, twining the tresses around his fists, then eases the battery-operated dildo inside of me. I grind vigorously downward. With his steely body behind me, I writhe in his lap. My ass is haunted by the monster in his pants.
We stay in this position until my back bows. I’m sunk into Antonio’s lap, with the vibrator forced most of the way inside me.
He clasps my throat. “Look, preciosa.”
I look toward a mirror across the room and can see us perfectly. Antonio’s wildly erotic eyes slide over my reflection as he says, “I’m dressed. You’re naked and being fucked. If you were to paint this—”
“I wouldn’t—”
He reaches forward, pressing a button on the dildo to change the pulses. The sleek contraption has another orgasm charging through me.
“Look. You’d pay special attention to my glower and gritted teeth, preciosa. This painting would display a very jealous man, would it not?”
“Yes!” I revel in the sight of Antonio antagonized by me getting off without him.
“An envious man and a woman fucked so blissfully; her dark, rich skin is all dewy. Pleasure in her eyes. You’d capture that, sí?”
My face falls, chin against my chest, as another orgasm knots up every muscle in my body.
For the longest time, I endure the pleasures of Antonio penetrating me with the vibrator. He moves out of the chair, and I wilt against the seat, hardly able to hold myself up. I’m beginning to see why he’d sat behind me. So nurturing. Now, I’m alone, looking like a haggard little toad. I definitely wouldn’t paint this mess.
Hmmm… am I saying I’d paint the image of Antonio seated behind me as the sex toy dips in and out of my pussy?
I gasp when Antonio removes the dual-action clit stimulator to place his lips there.
“I can’t take... anymore,” I ground out. “I’m so thirsty.”
“Aye, I’ll help you.” Antonio unzips his pants, ramming his cock down my throat. Next, he readjusts the piece between my legs. My exhausted pussy lips quiver over the vibrator, and my mouth follows the same path over Antonio’s dick. He alternated between pumps and harsh hip swirls. With liquid dribbling from my chin, I suck him down while my walls convulse in ultimate bliss. And when he cums, it moisturizes the depth of my throat.
Sometime later, I’m deliciously and utterly broken. Never felt like this before. Gustavo never came close, and the bitch stole my paintings!
I’ve showered with Antonio and slid into a robe softer than the clouds in heaven. His bedroom is a mixture of neutral colors, a glass wall, and it overlooks an endless ocean.
While my fingers brush over a half sun molded from clay, I ask, “There aren’t any paintings here. Why?”
“To be honest, you’ll be the first to use this easel.” He stirs me toward a stand and asks if I prefer a canvas or —
“I’d rather model for you.”
“Shall I find your gift?” Antonio’s brow cocks up in question.
“The vibrator? Hell no! I could hardly stand in the shower long enough to get—”
“Alright, let me go find it.”
I sulk and relent to say, “Grab a canvas.”
A few minutes later, he hands over a color palette.
I run a thumb over the brand. “Oh, you’re fancy?”
“Only the best for my preciosa.”
“Thank you.” I smile, removing the paints from the cellophane wrapper.
Out of the blue, Antonio says, “I was 15 when I got Alexis’ mother pregnant. Don’t give me that look. You asked why there’s no art here. I’ll get to that. I’m setting the scene.”
“Where is her mom?” I’m not duking it out with a jilted baby momma regardless of Alexis' age.
“Who knows? Who cares?”
“Oh.” I move his arm.
“Like this?” Antonio asks in frustration, leaning his chin on his fist like a Greek statue.
“Be natural, and get on with the story, Manny.”