Chapter 4
Iswear. I am not sitting at this man”s kitchen table, masturbating under the cover of the lacy table cloth.
Something about Augustus just has me feeling restless. My skin feels hot and prickly everywhere, but there”s a pressure built up in my core that has me desperate for some relief.
When my fingers first pushed between my thighs, I didn”t even realize what I was doing.
But the man is hotness incarnate and he”s been leaning against the counter, all stretched out with his ankles crossed, those muscles on casual display like he”s a model in a photo shoot. It”s more than I can handle and I guess pressing my fingers against my clit to try to relieve the pressure there is probably a saner option than, say, climbing him like a tree.
I really did not think he could tell what I was doing and it is so not polite of him to call me out like this.
”Come here, fiore.”
When he calls me flower in Italian like that? Every time he says it, his voice goes to gravel and it comes out in a melodic accent that isn”t as noticeable in his usual voice. It does things to me that have me acting purely on instinct.
Augustus pulls me off the chair and I”m hoping for hungry kissing.
Instead, he leads me around the table and lifts me surprisingly easily so that I”m sitting on top of the table cloth I was just hiding under.
Again, I”m hoping to feel his lips against mine. I want the short scruff of his beard scrubbing my skin. I want--
He doesn”t move between my knees as my legs dangle off the edge of the table. Instead, he turns one of the chairs sideways so that I can rest my feet on it.
Warm hands grip my knees and I feel calluses as they slide up the outside of my thighs as he pushes the hem of my skirt up.
Thick fingers climb up my hips and hook into the elastic of my panties.
I”m all too eager to shimmy my hips helpfully as he works them off my ass and down my legs, his eyes never leaving mine.
Those heavy hands fold the fabric of my skirt up high on my thighs, till it”s neatly gathered in my lap and I can feel the cool air of the room against my bare pussy.
But instead of moving close to touch me like I need him to, August rests those large hands on top of my thighs, only letting the rough pads of his thumbs barely brush me before he takes a step back.
His eyes sweep down my entire body, lingering on the place between my legs before taking my hand to his mouth, then they close tightly as he inhales the scent of me still on my fingertips before placing my own hand back to my center.
Augustus settles back in the same spot, leaning back against the counter a few feet in front of me. Only this time, the table isn”t between us and I”ve been carefully arranged to be on full display for him.
My panties are a small wad of white satin in his hand as he raises them to his face and inhales deeply-- his eyes still on mine.
”Show me, fiore.”
His voice is soft, but there”s no mistaking its command-- or his meaning-- as his eyes glance between my legs.
He...wants to watch me touch myself?
My knees fall together, my hand still wedged between them but far from where he put it.
”Why?”
I don”t understand why he”d rather watch me than do it himself and I”m feeling silly and self-conscious.
”Because it”s hot, and I want to watch,” he answers with a sinful little grin as he lifts his water glass to his lips.
I”m shaking my head. It”s never made sense to me why a guy would want to watch this. I don”t think I can do this. Not even for Augustus Diamani”s hungry eyes.
”I don”t-- how”s it hot?”
Oh fuck.
Augustus sets the water aside, his fingers sliding through the condensation that”s built up on the outside of the glass as his hand moves off of it. It”s surprisingly sensual and I feel my throat work in a hard swallow.
Then he pulls the hem of his shirt up and peels it over his head, letting it drop on the floor beside him.
Whoa. It”s like a wall of eye candy. Inked up, olive skin stretched over defined muscles, and a perfect T of dark hair across flat pecs and trailing down between abs like a stack of bricks.
He stays casually reclined against the counter, his eyes never leaving my face, as his hands work his buckle and pull the leather belt free of the loops on his jeans before letting it drop on the floor by his shirt.
My eyes are glued to his hands as they undo the button on his waist band, lower the zipper, and reach beneath the black fabric of his boxer briefs to take his cock in hand.
* * *
Augustus
To be clear;fiore mio started this.
As soon as I realized what her hand was busy with under the table, I needed to see her. So this is her show and if she wants to know why it”s one I want to watch, I”m happy to demonstrate for her.
It also provides sweet relief to my aching cock that”s been hard for her since we met on the hillside.
Keeping my movements slow and intentional, I keep my eyes on the beautiful young woman sitting on my kitchen table as I take myself in hand for her to see.
Zephyr”s lips part softly at the sight of me. The pink tip of her tongue slides across the edge of her upper lip appreciatively, making my cock surge thicker in my grip as I slide my fist up my length, finishing the first full stroke with a firm tug over the pulsing head.
It”s obvious from the hooded gaze and the heavy rise and fall of her full breasts that she”s learning the answer to her question; how it”s hot to watch someone you find attractive taking their pleasure into their own hands-- especially while they leave no room to doubt that they are thinking of you while they do so.
My hand staggers on my second slow stroke. I have to hold my grip and squeeze my tip to hold myself in check as Zephyr”s knees part before me. Thick, shapely thighs fall open, making room for her hand to slip between them and giving me a view even better than the mountains outside my windows.
Everything in front of me is perfection: the fine beads of perspiration that have formed along the crease of her cleavage, the goose-flesh covering her exposed upper arms, pebbled nipples straining under the dress, and the heavy-lidded, foggy gaze that”s so focused on the movements of my hand as it works my cock, she might not even realize that she”s lost her self-consciousness.
Those thighs fall wider, the yellow dress rucked up around her waist. Her delicate fingers slide between pussy lips that are swollen and dark with her desire, her honey glistening on her fingers as the wet sounds of her work fill my ears.
If you ask me, Nonna”s hand-crocheted table cloth has never had a finer centerpiece set upon it.
When fiore comes on her own hand her body shakes violently with my name on her lips like an agonized plea as if I”m the only thing can ease her ache.
Even from six feet across the fucking room, her orgasm is more than I can last through. My free hand clutches at the counter under me as I fuck my own hand relentlessly, matching her rhythm while I watch her make herself come to the sight of me.
Cum shoots from me, arcing into the air like a fountain before splattering on the floor between us. I”ll have a hard time mopping the floor later without adding to the mess at the memory of our afternoon.
For a long moment, both of us are still, our eyes locked on one another, both of us breathing heavily.
Zephyr”s eyes slide down my chest and watch as I tuck my dick back into my briefs. The damn thing”s still half hard and when Zephyr pulls her lower lip between her teeth and parts her knees so I can see her juices still glistening on her inner thighs, I know it won”t be going soft soon.
”I need to taste you, fiore.”
The words are a prayer, falling from my lips as I slide onto the chair in front of her, swinging her leg over my shoulder and taking her by the back of the thighs to bring her to my mouth.
She”s as sweet as I knew she would be.
My mouth collides with her center, my tongue seeking to savor every drop of her pleasure that still sweetens her skin.
”Ohmygod, that really does feel good.”
Zephyr”s hands tangle into my hair, her short nails scraping the back of my neck as she moves in my hands to give me more of her.
I”m so fucking lost in her that I miss any nuance there is to be found in her sweet cries. I only need her next climax and I need it on my tongue. This time, I need to be the reason her thighs are spread wide and when her body begins to shake and her cries become shouts, I have to be the only one bringing her such pleasure.
When her body has stilled, I continue kissing and lapping against every part of her that still carried the flavor of her orgasm.
My dick is hard again and begging for its turn with her.
Reminding myself-- and my cock-- that I am not an overeager school boy with no self-control, I reluctantly take my mouth off Zephyr”s thigh. Leaning back, I take her hand and help her to sit up before carefully moving her skirt back down to cover the temptation in front of me.
I”m determine to let her rest but she”s off the table and in my lap.
Her lips come to mine with a near violent force, her hands at the sides of my head with her thumbs brushing the stubble on my cheeks.
I”ve never had a woman kiss me like this. Fiore leaves me breathless, with her hot little pussy finding my length and moving against it insistently.
In this moment, rational thought is a myth. I think I would grant this wildflower anything she asks of me.
”Augustus,” she purrs, even as I continue to nibble at her sweet lips, ”I want you to be my first.”