Art History 7 AM

"Come inside." "Inside." You echo the word- a promise.

The two flights of stairs to the third story are endlessly longer than ever before. The key seems to slide into the lock for centuries. Life in slow motion. In the movies everything slows in those moments before triumph or defeat. I realize I'm holding my breath. I mourn for those who have never experienced a moment or two of wonder.

My apartment. Comfortable, familiar. It's different with you in the equation. It's different with you. Your hand is at the back of my neck, sliding into my hair, fisting there slowly, fingers tightening around silky strands. I draw a breath, prepared to ask for your kiss, but your lips are on mine, and we're tasting again. Feasting. My soft moan, yours lower, deeper, tangle together and echo through the room, the sound finding its way into corners. Lingering there, making itself at home.

Your mouth. I'm lost in it again. That soft wet meeting of tongues as I explore the depth of it, swallow your groan. Yes it was yours this time but there's enough for both of us. More than enough. The kiss turns quietly into another struggle for control. My teeth, your tongue. Both of us probing, taking, waging the most devastating war. In this particular case I revel in the taste of battle.

We pull back, panting, desperate, both gathering our forces. I already know there will be other times for gentleness. Not now. Your eyes are dark, glowing with flashes of gold- violence- the kind that releases itself only in knife-edged passion. I tremble. From want, not fear.

"A drink Jack? I have wine?" "I thought you didn't drink." "I don't." Low-toned, amused laughter. I've learned already to love that sound. "Wine. Alright, white?" "Yes, I'll get it. Have a seat."

Your dinner jacket discarded, draped over the back of a chair. I step out of my high heels as I return with the open bottle, two glasses. "I make an exception for a toast or two now and then-- on special occasions."

Your gaze shifted, moments ago to the red painted toenails now visible through the smoky black sheer of my stockings. It lingers there while I pour the wine. "A toast then, little girl. To surrender." I pull my glass back before crystal glasses chime together.

"Mine or yours?" "Yours of course darling. It will be exquisite." "Hmm..." Biting my bottom lip, considering. "I can definitely drink to the exquisite. We'll just wait and see about the rest."

Crystal tapping lightly to crystal. The smooth, cool taste of wine.

You waged your battle with words, with those devastating eyes, but my fingers have been busy. My free hand slides into the opening freed buttons have left in your dress shirt. Fingers threading through the dark mat of hair on your chest, finding your right nipple, teasing it, squeezing, rolling. I'm content with the way your flesh hardens and your muscles tense, even if I don't manage to elicit from you another one of those delicious moans.

My wine forgotten, I drink from your skin, trailing kisses along your throat, skimming down the now open path to your collarbone. I lick you there, nipping, pressing a kiss to the tender flesh where the two bones meet. Its not a moan that rises in your throat, but a growl. Your fingers slide into my hair again, gathering, twisting until I feel the first tingle of pain. I'm prepared for the tug, for you to lift my mouth from your body, but it never comes. I continue my exploration, licking a slow path down the center of your chest, both hands wander inside your shirt, over your naked torso.

Did I set down the wine glass? Drop it? Letting that golden liquid spill across the floor to gleam in rivulets on polished wood? I don't know. I never felt you pluck the glass from my fingers. I know only that I'm touching you, hands, mouth, teeth, tongue. You're letting me. I can see by the way you're watching me that you're giving me this taste of you I take it, without reservation. The gasp of pleasure I've been waiting for comes in the form of an oath. My mouth, having found its way to your nipple. Flick of tongue, scrape of teeth, gentle suction of soft, warm lips. Another sharp oath and I raise my head, smiling dazzlingly.

I don't know when I came to kneel, there, between your legs while you lounged in the corner of the couch, but here I am. You're so utterly male, sitting there, naked to the waist, one knee bent, leg resting against the back of the couch. I can feel the sole of your shoe biting lightly into my thigh. Your other leg is draped over the edge of the couch, foot resting on the floor. Dress slacks stretched tight over the rising bulge beneath your fly. My mouth waters. I want it- all of it. All of you.

I'm on my knees for you after all. We both knew it would come to this. You didn't ask or order. I didn't obey, or beg. It simply is. Will be. It's inevitable. My hand moves to the buckle of your belt. The tiny straps of my dress straining at my shoulders as I slide the thin leather free.

There's something mesmerizing about this disrobing- your clothes strewn on my living room floor. It makes the need to see you- touch you- feel the weight of your sex in my hands so intense it borders on pain. My fingers work to free your cock from its confines. Both of us shiver at the brush of flesh against flesh. My warm fingers seem cool against the heat of your arousal.

I explore you thoroughly, excitedly. A child in a candy store. Even then I had a sweet tooth, it's just that my tastes have changed. No longer can I suppress the urge to *taste* you. My eyes on yours as I lower my mouth, my tongue flicking slowly around the swollen head, bathing it, moaning as the flavor of you runs through me. I'm more dizzy than I would be from the entire bottle of wine. Drunk on you. On that first taste and the way you mutter, gravel voiced, when my tongue probes into the tender slit.

"You sweet little bitch."

Oh wait darling, there's more- oh so much more. I lap at you, a cat licking cream. I wet every inch of your rigid shaft. It glistens in the wake of my ever moving, ever spiraling tongue. Your moans are more frequent now, your breathing uneven. Uttered curses, threats. Pleas are conspicuously absent. I don't mind. I'm patient, and relentless. Both of your wide-palmed hands tangled in my hair now, forcing me down slightly, urging me closer. "Suck it," you growl. "Suck my cock slut." It's clearly an order.

"I will." My words muffled against your sex as my tongue works its way down the underside of your cock. "Now girl" "Soon. I promise." My fingertips cup your balls, massaging them, tugging lightly on the delicate sacs, tracing the contours with a fingertip. My mouth waters and I lower my head yet again. The taste, the texture as I draw one warm orb into my mouth and suck is beyond description. My moans vibrate your flesh. The soft wet sounds of my mouth on your balls filling my ears, filling yours.

Lost in you again. Always I'll be lost in you. I can see that clearly even when I see nothing else. Dimly I realize you're panting, rolling your hips, muscles tensed. Rock hard thigh under my free hand. Lick, suck, squeeze- I feel those hard muscles quiver.

"I want you honey. Want to be in your mouth." I know that, have know it for days. Since our eyes first met we've wanted. There's more for us now. There's another level. You know it darling know what it's like to take someone there, know what it's like to feel it. I don't have to say the words my eyes are eloquent. Dark sapphire sparkles as my tongue works its way up spirals the tip.

"Oh god I need you girl. Need your mouth. Need to feel it." Magic words. Want- Need. The next level. I knew we'd find it together.

Open mouthed kisses and I draw you in. Soft pink lips stretched around you, warm tongue lapping and the gentle suction you crave pulling at the swollen head, daring you to slide deeper. And so you do- go deeper. Both hands on the back of my head and you arch your hips. I growl softly as your cock head prods the back of my throat. Amazing isn't it how, being fed, the hunger only multiplies on itself, grows stronger.

You're content to watch for a few moments, eyes wide. Your mouth opens on a groan as I work my lips slowly up and down as your cock moves slowly in and out. Wet heat, cool air, your glistening flesh alive on my tongue. Air, fire, water- all the elements in this one long, sucking kiss.

You move. Your hips rolling, fucking my soft mouth. Not roughly but deeply so that I gag a little before my throat adjusts to take you. I'm drowning. This pleasure- the kind I'm already finding with you swamps me so always I feel like I'm clawing my way to the surface of a rough sea.

Ragged breaths. Panting around your cock, gasping choking. Your dark laughter makes my most intimate muscles contract, ache. You push my mouth down, pull it back up your fingers knotted in my hair. My muffled whimpers in perfect concert with your moans, your sharply drawn breaths when I suck hard, scrape lightly with sharp white teeth.

Your balls, heavy and hot in my hand, tighten, draw up and I know. I can feel your shaft swelling in my mouth, twitching in my throat. I gag on the length- that one helpless sound sending you over the edge. Your hips buck hard, bruising my lips and you cry out as the first thick, hot stream splashes against the back of my throat. I use both hands now, stroking your balls, holding the base of your cock. Swallowing over and over, drinking you. Salty-sweet. Your seed coats my tongue, my lips, drips from the corners of my mouth to run down my chin. I take my time, the gentle suction of my mouth drawing on you, pulling out every drop.

You drag my mouth away with a growl, but I fight my way back to lick at you. Greedy. I know I am. I want everything, every last taste. When I push the tip of my tongue into the tender slit to catch the last glistening drop your cry is sharp- the oath vicious. I yelp as you pull my hair hard enough to make my eyes water.

"Quite the little cumslut aren't you honey?" I only smile, nod. My tongue slips out to lick my lips. We watch each other for a moment, systems leveling slightly. I don't know when exactly you shrugged out of your shirt, but there you are, a naked God. Still half aroused, that glitter of violent passion still in your eyes. I'm tempted to ask you if you will demand a sacrifice. The words stick in my throat as my eyes meet yours- hold. I already know the answer.