The single, "Yes" was still hanging in the sweet air when Dante moved.
There was no hesitation, no gentlemanly pause. The floodgates of his desire had been obliterated, and he was swept away in the current.
He closed the small distance between them, his hands finding her waist, a shock of warm, impossibly soft skin, and pulled her against him.
His mouth found hers in a desperate, claiming kiss. It was not gentle or exploratory; it was a consummation of the raw need that had been burning through him since the moment her floral form had solidified into this divine flesh.
Her lips were soft and sweet, yielding to his fervent pressure.
His hands began to roam, learning the geography of her body as if mapping a sacred text.
One hand slid up the elegant curve of her back, while the other journeyed upward, over the swell of her ribs, until his palm cupped the full, heavy weight of her breast.
He squeezed, a testing, possessive gesture, and was rewarded with a sharp, delightful hitch of her breath against his lips.
Mmmh!
She broke the kiss, a low, throaty chuckle escaping her. "Eager, are we?"
He didn't hear her. His hands were already moving on, driven by an insatiable hunger.
They slid down the small of her back, over the perfect, generous curve of her hips, and finally gripped her ass.
It was plump, magnificently shaped, and filled his hands completely.
He squeezed, kneading the firm yet yielding flesh as if trying to mold himself to her, to memorize every contour through touch alone.
A low groan rumbled in his chest, the feeling of her in his hands more intoxicating than any dream.
She paused, placing a gentle, calming hand on his chest. "Shhh, calm down."
A wave of serene control washed over Dante, instantly dousing the frantic, burning edge of his lust.
He took a sharp, sudden breath, only now realizing he had been completely losing himself. It was like her very presence was an aphrodisiac, pulling a more primal, animalistic version of him to the surface.
He wasn't a guy who thought with his lower head; he was logical, usually in control. This felt...weird. And incredibly potent.
Before he could process it further, she gave him a gentle push. He fell backward, expecting a jarring impact with the ground. Instead, the bed of glowing flowers beneath him softened his fall, their petals cushioning him as if he were floating on a cloud.
In that moment of falling, his clothes simply dissolved into pink light, leaving him completely exposed.
And there it was: a tower of throbbing, rock-hard need, standing at full attention and ready for penetration.
She descended upon him, not with haste, but with a slow, sensual grace. She moved down his body until she was between his legs, her long, pink hair falling over his thighs. The silken strands tickled his skin, sending another shiver of anticipation through him.
It was as if she had read his mind, as if the hundred positions he had imagined were now a script she was perfectly following.
Her hand found his length, her fingers wrapping around him. Her touch was goddamn soft, a perfect, warm pressure that felt impossibly good.
It was so intense he could almost imagine he was already inside her. The thought made his mind race: if her hand felt like this, what would she really feel like?
'Her mouth,' he thought, the image flashing unbidden in his mind.
As if she had heard him, and perhaps she had, she began to stroke him slowly, then lowered her head. Her tongue, impossibly long and agile, snaked out and wrapped around the head of his cock, applying a delicious, wet pressure.
She slurped.
~~~!!
A lewd, wet sound filled the quiet air.
Gwark.
Her head bobbed down, taking him deeper into the unbelievable warmth of her mouth.
Gwuk.
She moved with a rhythm that was both expert and ravenous, her tongue coiling and massaging his shaft.
Sshhrulpp.
Every pull of her lips, every flick of her tongue, was designed to draw every ounce of pleasure from him.
~~~!! Gwark-gwuk-ssslurp! ~~~!!
She slumped over him, completely dedicated to her task, the sounds of her blowjob creating sounds of desire that sounded through the pink-hued landscape.
Dante could only groan, his hands tangling in her hair as he was swept away by the sensation.
The initial, expert rhythm dissolved into something far more primal.
She pulled back until just the tip of him rested between her swollen lips, her eyes locked on his with a look of pure hunger.
Then, with a wet, shuddering gasp, she plunged forward.
There was no hesitation, no gradual taking. She took his entire length in one smooth, deep glide, until his hips met her face and the head of his cock nudged the deep, tight entrance of her throat.
Dante's back arched off the bed of flowers, a guttural cry tearing from his lips. The feeling was beyond anything he could have conceived, a tight all-consuming heat that surrounded him completely.
She held herself there for a long, breathtaking moment, her throat muscles fluttering wildly around him, before pulling back with a loud, sloppy
SLLLUURRP.
Strings of saliva and pre-cum connected her lips to his shaft for a fleeting second before she dove down again, even faster, even messier.
GWAARK!
The sound was thick and wet as she hilted him once more. Her nose was buried in the coarse hair at his base, and her eyes began to water, the tears mixing with the copious drool slicking his cock and dripping down his balls.
She was making a mess of him, of herself, and it was the most erotic thing he had ever witnessed.
Her breathing was a series of ragged, choked gasps between descents, each one a symphony of desperate, wet noise.
SHLLLUCK-GWUK-GWUK
Dante's hands, which had been tangled gently in her hair, now fisted the pink strands.
His hips began to buck involuntarily, meeting her frantic pace thrust for thrust.
The coil of pleasure in his gut, which had been winding tighter and tighter, was now a screaming, white-hot knot.
The world had shrunk to this single, overwhelming sensation, the sight of her taking him, the sounds of her slobbering devotion, the feeling of her throat milking him.
"I'm—I'm gonna cum!" he grunted, the warning ripped from him.
She didn't remove him. Instead, she let out a muffled, encouraging moan and pressed down even deeper, swallowing convulsively around him as he erupted.
Rope after hot rope of his release shot directly down her throat.
He felt her swallow once, twice, a third time, drinking every last drop as his body shuddered through the most powerful, mind-shattering orgasm of his life.
She stayed there until the very last tremor had subsided, finally pulling back with a final, wet pop and a deep, satisfied breath.
A single, glistening trail of white escaped the corner of her lips, which she casually licked away with a smile.
For Dante, his mind was an empty void. This was only foreplay, but in his reeling, overwhelmed mind, it was already, without a doubt, the best sex he had ever had.