On Every Street (The Artists Trilogy #0)

On Every Street (The Artists Trilogy #0) Page 10

He slowly slid his thumb out of my mouth and put his lips to my ear.

“Don’t worry,” he said softly. He took his dripping thumb and started to slide it and his fingers down the front of my pants. “My angel will always come before me.”

Then he kissed me, delicate lips and strong tongue. I seemed to draw energy from his mouth, heat and warmth and stars filling me from the inside. It was a kiss unlike any kiss I’d ever had. It made me addicted, like my own mouth would forever be lonely without his there.

Suddenly my pants were loose; the drawstring that held it together was being undone. I started clamming up, my body stiffening, my heart racing. I didn’t want him to stop, but I was scared to death by what was about to happen. I was truly about to go into the unknown and losing control was risky.

His fingers found me wet and slid smoothly against my clit. He pulled back from my lips and let out a harsh sigh, his eyes closed. “Drenched, just for me.”

I let out a similar sound, relishing the foreign sensation of his skilled fingers, my cheeks flaming over how damn vocal he was, like he didn’t have a care in the world. Before I really started grinding against him, he pulled his fingers out and lifted them to my lips.

“Taste yourself,” he commanded softly, rubbing his wet fingers on me. “Do you taste as sweet as I think?”

I couldn’t even form words. I couldn’t even be repulsed. I couldn’t even think. All I could do was realize I tasted not sweet, but tangy and soapy, and thanked myself for taking an extra-long bath that morning.

He was watching me carefully. “You’ve never tasted yourself before?”

I shook my head, clearing my throat, finding my words. “No. Should I have?”

A grin slowly spread across his face, and he gave a quick shake of his head. “Ah, dear, sweet Eden. To quote the great Rhett Butler, you need to be fucked and by someone who knows how.”

“What version of Gone with the Wind did you grow up watching?” I squeaked out.

He bit his lip and pulled down the edge of my tube top. “There are a lot of liberties taken with Spanish subtitles.”

Then his lips were on my nipple, his mouth engulfing it, hot and wet, his tongue flicking as it hardened beneath it. Fizzing sparks fluttered down my limbs. Heat built up between my legs again, wanting his fingers to come back. Wanting him. It was too much.

As he lightly bit around my breast, I threw my head back and blurted out, “I’m a virgin.”

He stopped dead. He lifted his head and I slowly raised mine to face him. I expected him to look disgusted or disappointed or at least surprised, but he didn’t look like any of those. He looked…happy.

His mouth twisted into a smirk. “You just get more perfect with every passing second, don’t you?”

I chewed on my lips, conscious of my breast being exposed, just inches from his face.

“Don’t worry. You are an angel and I’ll keep you that way. For now, your virtue will remain intact.”

He suddenly scooped me up into his arms and I let out a small cry of surprise. I gripped him, my hands feeling the hard lines of his back as he carried me a few feet over to a log lying in the sand. This was someone’s beachfront, I could tell, but their house was dark and far back from the water.

He placed me on the log and then gently pushed against my chest until I was bending over backward. My head was in the sand, my hips and ass on the log.

“Relax. Let me take care of you now. And tomorrow I’ll take everything.”

I had a feeling I knew what that meant, but I couldn’t say anything because suddenly he was peeling off my pants, pulling them down. I thought of my scars, praying he wouldn’t notice them, my heart racing at the thought of him seeing them and being turned off.

But he stopped removing them just below the knees and gently spread my legs. I felt like I was offering my vagina up on a wooden platter. Talk about heading into the unknown.

“You’re beautiful,” I heard him whisper. “So beautiful.” I felt his fingers run up and down the slash, teasing me. I pressed my head further into the sand and closed my eyes. All thoughts about my leg disappeared.

Then he lowered his head and his tongue was on me. I gasped from the shock and gasped again from the sensation. His lips coaxed mine, drawing me out, making me fill with blood and pressure. It was better than anything I had ever felt before. Better than a million golden sunsets, better than chocolate and wine and towels warm from the dryer. It made my legs spread further, my hips bucking into his mouth.

I moaned loudly, then tried to stifle it for fear of the houses nearby.

He pulled away a few inches and said, “You can scream, angel. I love the sound of my name coming from your lips, especially while I’m occupied with these ones.”

It didn’t take long before that happened. His lips, his tongue, his own moans and groans—it was too much for me to take, to hold on to. My orgasm ripped through me with startling ferocity. I cried out his name in passion and in fear. I thought, for a second, as the waves grew more violent, that I was permanently damaged, like I was being ripped in two and could never be put back together. It was an out of body experience, and when I came back to reality, when I realized I was still whole and still me, tears leaked from the corners of my eyes. Everything felt unleashed.

I lay there for a few moments, sand all over my hair, until I saw Javier poke his head up, getting to his feet.

“Take your time, angel,” he said, looming over me. “I’ve never heard such purity before.”

I felt anything but pure. I raised my brows, questioning him, out of breath and words.

“The sounds you make as you come,” he explained, voice low and guttural. “Better than any symphony.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat then quickly sat up, realizing how exposed I was. My head spun and sand scattered everywhere as I fastened my pants and pulled up my tube top. He moved over and suddenly I was face to face with his crotch. I could see his erection straining against his jeans. I was going to have to do something about that, wasn’t I?

With newfound boldness, I put my hand on him, feeling how hard he was beneath my fingers. It’s not like I had a lot to compare to, but size-wise he seemed more than adequate.

He groaned softly and gripped the back of my head, driving grains of sand in further.

“Careful, now. You’ll make me come before I’m ready, and then you’ll only create a mess that you’d have to lick up.”

I quickly removed my hand, but he grabbed it with his free one and placed my fingers on his belt buckle.

“Unbuckle me,” he whispered, keeping his hand in my hair, making a new fist in it. “Take me out into your hands.”

With shaking fingers, the adrenaline of the orgasm still running through me, I did as he said. I undid the button, unzipped the fly, and was taken by surprise to see he was going commando. I reached in and took his thick, hard length out, holding it in my hands, feeling its heavy weight, the smooth skin. The head was shiny with pre-cum, waiting for my mouth.

“Lick the tip,” he said. “Slowly. Only your tongue.”

I licked it, tasting the salt from the slit. He moaned. “Yes,” he hissed through his teeth. “Now use your beautiful lips.”

I placed my lips around the purple head and then slowly slid them down, making sure it was as wet as possible. I felt his veins underneath my lips as I took him all in, as far as he could go.

The fist in my hair tightened and he yanked it slightly. I let out a small cry of pain but he ignored it. “Now, make a tight circle with your hand and squeeze me, like an extension of your sweet, sweet mouth.”

I complied, and as I worked away at him, my confidence built up. I could hear how turned on he was from his groaning and grunts, the way he told me he loved fucking my warm mouth. Finally, just when I was certain he was about to come, he yanked my head back and ordered me to lie back on the sand.

“And lift up your shirt,” he commanded, getting down on his knees between my legs.

He started stroking himself, his hand going faster and faster, his grunts louder and shorter.

“Keep looking at me while I stain you,” he grunted through his clenched jaw.

I did, watching his gleaming eyes go from wild with lust to pinched with pleasure as he spasmed. His load shot out of him in hot spurts, streaming onto my stomach and tits. I was enthralled and embarrassed at the same time. The one thing I wasn’t, which surprised me, was humiliated. I didn’t feel defiled, just possessed, like he really was marking me as his. And at that moment, drunk on wine and lust, the beach at my back, his seed still hot on my skin, I didn’t mind being Javier’s.

In fact, I kind of loved it.

He collapsed on the sand beside me, breathing laboriously for a few moments. Then he took a handkerchief out of his jacket pocket and very tenderly, wiped it all off of me. From the gentle look in his eyes, you would have thought he was applying a band-aid on a child instead of mopping up his own cum.

“We’ll get us both sorted out soon,” he said softly as he pulled my shirt back down. Then he leaned over and kissed me, nice and slow, before getting to his feet and pulling me up with him.

Hand in hand we made our way back down the beach, back to the Crab Hut, back to Jose, back to his house, and eventually, to his bed.

When I woke up the next morning, it took me a few moments to realize where I was. Nothing was familiar: the soft light coming in through the large windows, the whitewashed walls, the black satin bed sheets and matching down comforter. The dark-haired head between my legs.

“What are you doing?” I asked groggily, leaning back on my elbows.

Javier’s head lifted, a teasing smile on his face. My underwear were still on, but he seemed to be in the process of moving it to the side with his fingers.

“Good morning.” He greeted me like nothing was out of the ordinary, like he wasn’t about to go down on me while I was asleep. This man certainly had balls, I had to give him that. Well, that and a lot of other things.

After we returned to his house last night, I was insisting I should go home while he insisted that I stay overnight with him. He promised he wouldn’t try and take my virtue in my sleep, but it seemed he had no problem licking it out of me in the morning.

He went back to work, his tongue lapping at me like a giant cat. He took his fingers and slowly inserted them until it pinched uncomfortably.

“I’m just warming you up for later,” he said before diving back down.

I moaned despite myself, lifting up my hips and widening my legs to give him more access. It felt just as good as the night before and I wasn’t in the mood to make him stop.

“I have to work later,” I managed to say while his tongue flicked.

“There’s always a later after later,” he mumbled into me.

I couldn’t argue with that. He kept going until I was coming again, not as violently as the night before, but enough to make me grip the sheets between my hands, to make me call out his name, swearing; enough to make me blush when I realized how loud and uninhibited I was. I was going to have to get over that pretty fast because it seemed like Javier was just getting started with me. What was it going to be like to actually have sex with him? My imagination didn’t even stretch that far.