belt loops, pulling her closer and trying to kiss her again.
She placed one palm on his chest, teasing him with tiny, fleeting kisses, and slowly trailed the fingers of her other hand downwards. He growled with frustration.
“When we first met,” she said, her lips a scant inch from his, tempting him beyond endurance, “I said I was going to blow your brains out.”
Then she slithered down his body until she was kneeling at his feet, her hands working at his belt buckle.
Art almost came then and there.
* * * * *
Charlie took Art’s erect cock in her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze and smiling when it twitched in her hand and he gave a low, tortured groan. She allowed her breath to ghost over the slick head, deliberately teasing him. He buried his fingers in her hair, and she ran her palm from the tip of his length to the base and back again, coaxing a pearly drop of fluid from the slit.
She ran her free hand up the inside of his strong thigh, taking his balls in her palm and gently rolling them, making him groan and gasp again. She circled her tongue over the head of his cock, delicately dipping her tongue into the slit at its tip with shallow, darting movements, then sucked on the dark, bulbous tip like a lollipop.
Art gasped, his fingers tightening in her hair as she slid her lips down his shaft, taking him all the way in, humming to herself. She felt the petals of her sex dampen as the vibration made the little muscles in his belly twitch, her excitement feeding on his.
His breathing was ragged, and she could feel him trembling as he resisted the urge to thrust. She bobbed her head, taking him in and releasing him again, his length sticky with saliva and precum. As she moved, she hollowed her cheeks, sucking him and tonguing him.
Art moaned, his voice becoming more urgent as she moved, his hips rolling slightly even as he fought to stay still, to let her blow him.
Within moments, his moans turned to a hoarse, helpless groan, and he jolted and shuddered with his climax, alternately cursing incoherently and murmuring sweet nothings as Charlie swallowed down his cum.
* * * * *
Later – much later – Charlie propped herself on Art’s chest, gazing down at him and smiling contentedly. She was sore and aching and sated. There was nothing but a blanket between them and the night air.
He smiled back at her…but she could see something haunted in the depths of those dark eyes.
“What’s wrong?” she asked him. She stroked his high cheekbone with the backs of her fingers. “Do you feel sick? Are you worried I won’t come back with Starweed for you? Because I will. I sw—”
He placed his fingers over her lips, cutting off her promise. “Starweed isn’t my priority. Haven’t I proved that? I’m not worried about myself. I’m worried about you . It’s a dangerous game we’re playing, Charlie. You’re going to be shining a light on plans Dynamic Earth wants to stay in the dark, and if they find out what you know…” He trailed off. Then he took her face in his hands and gave her a sweet, lingering kiss. “You don’t have to come back for me…but Charlie, you have to come back.”
Before she could open her mouth to reply, a familiar voice piped up from behind her.
“Oh, blech. Romance. I could be scarred for life. Won’t somebody think of the children?”
Art and Charlie scrambled to make sure all the important bits were covered by the blanket as Titch plunked herself down by the ashes of the campfire and started to rifle through Art’s pack.
“Got anything to eat?”
Chapter Eleven
Charlie had wrapped the blanket around her as a sort of itchy sarong, and Art had yanked on his jeans. They stood staring down at Titch, who was perched casually on a rock, munching nonchalantly on a granola bar. She’d obviously bathed and been given clean clothes to wear. Her hair was clean and fluffy-looking, though still a dark dishwater blonde. The too-long jeans had been rolled up and the hems
She placed one palm on his chest, teasing him with tiny, fleeting kisses, and slowly trailed the fingers of her other hand downwards. He growled with frustration.
“When we first met,” she said, her lips a scant inch from his, tempting him beyond endurance, “I said I was going to blow your brains out.”
Then she slithered down his body until she was kneeling at his feet, her hands working at his belt buckle.
Art almost came then and there.
* * * * *
Charlie took Art’s erect cock in her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze and smiling when it twitched in her hand and he gave a low, tortured groan. She allowed her breath to ghost over the slick head, deliberately teasing him. He buried his fingers in her hair, and she ran her palm from the tip of his length to the base and back again, coaxing a pearly drop of fluid from the slit.
She ran her free hand up the inside of his strong thigh, taking his balls in her palm and gently rolling them, making him groan and gasp again. She circled her tongue over the head of his cock, delicately dipping her tongue into the slit at its tip with shallow, darting movements, then sucked on the dark, bulbous tip like a lollipop.
Art gasped, his fingers tightening in her hair as she slid her lips down his shaft, taking him all the way in, humming to herself. She felt the petals of her sex dampen as the vibration made the little muscles in his belly twitch, her excitement feeding on his.
His breathing was ragged, and she could feel him trembling as he resisted the urge to thrust. She bobbed her head, taking him in and releasing him again, his length sticky with saliva and precum. As she moved, she hollowed her cheeks, sucking him and tonguing him.
Art moaned, his voice becoming more urgent as she moved, his hips rolling slightly even as he fought to stay still, to let her blow him.
Within moments, his moans turned to a hoarse, helpless groan, and he jolted and shuddered with his climax, alternately cursing incoherently and murmuring sweet nothings as Charlie swallowed down his cum.
* * * * *
Later – much later – Charlie propped herself on Art’s chest, gazing down at him and smiling contentedly. She was sore and aching and sated. There was nothing but a blanket between them and the night air.
He smiled back at her…but she could see something haunted in the depths of those dark eyes.
“What’s wrong?” she asked him. She stroked his high cheekbone with the backs of her fingers. “Do you feel sick? Are you worried I won’t come back with Starweed for you? Because I will. I sw—”
He placed his fingers over her lips, cutting off her promise. “Starweed isn’t my priority. Haven’t I proved that? I’m not worried about myself. I’m worried about you . It’s a dangerous game we’re playing, Charlie. You’re going to be shining a light on plans Dynamic Earth wants to stay in the dark, and if they find out what you know…” He trailed off. Then he took her face in his hands and gave her a sweet, lingering kiss. “You don’t have to come back for me…but Charlie, you have to come back.”
Before she could open her mouth to reply, a familiar voice piped up from behind her.
“Oh, blech. Romance. I could be scarred for life. Won’t somebody think of the children?”
Art and Charlie scrambled to make sure all the important bits were covered by the blanket as Titch plunked herself down by the ashes of the campfire and started to rifle through Art’s pack.
“Got anything to eat?”
Chapter Eleven
Charlie had wrapped the blanket around her as a sort of itchy sarong, and Art had yanked on his jeans. They stood staring down at Titch, who was perched casually on a rock, munching nonchalantly on a granola bar. She’d obviously bathed and been given clean clothes to wear. Her hair was clean and fluffy-looking, though still a dark dishwater blonde. The too-long jeans had been rolled up and the hems
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