The Failing Hours

“I cannot fucking believe you’re getting naked in my bed.” Zeke sounds giddy and excited while shucking his pants, fingers frantically working the zipper, pushing them down over his lean hips. His muscular thighs. He hops on one leg, kicking and shaking the offending jeans off and across the room toward his desk.

His body is a true work of art, flawless.

The mattress dips with his weight when he crawls toward me on all fours in nothing but his tight boxers. He seeks my mouth.

Our lips meet, but not in a frantic crush.

It’s more of a slow burn.

Tongue. Lips. Pressing together, spreading apart. Sucking. Delectable, wet kisses. His mouth drifts down my neck, and I recline onto his stack of pillows, fingers threading through his hair. His thick, silky hair.

Zeke’s nose nuzzles the curve of my neck, running the length of skin just under my ear. I can hear him breathing in the smell of my hair, my perfume, my collarbone, groaning like he’s losing his mind.

I raise my arms so they’re above my head, watching when his flat tongue glides up the underside of my bicep, back down again, palms pushing down the black sheets I’ve drawn up for modesty.

Drags the sheet down my thighs.

Digs his hands under my ass and lifts my hips, dragging me toward him so I’m lying horizontally on the bed. Inches over me, rising to his knees. One leg braced on either side of me, the massive, broody boy looks down at me.

I can’t imagine what he sees, watching me with those insightful eyes. Long pale hair spread out on his black pillow. My slender, willowy figure lain out beneath him. My small, sun-deprived breasts.

“You should see yourself, Vi. Fucking hot.”

He leans down for an open-mouthed kiss, all tongue and teeth. It’s sloppy and delicious, and his lips begin a slow trail over my bare flesh, across my shoulders, over the curve of my breasts. His tongue doesn’t stop until it reaches my nipples. He sucks gently, his palm drifting up my torso to cup the other breast.

His boxer brief-covered erection rubs my crotch and I lift my hips toward it, the throbbing between my legs getting more unbearable by the second. He’s taking his time, planting indulgent kisses on my body—all over my body—the scruff of his five o’clock shadow leaving tiny beard rash as a delicious parting gift.

“I want to go down on you, Pixie. I’ve never seen a girl with hair on her pussy and it’s driving me insane—will you let me?”

I just barely manage a nod, biting down on my bottom lip when he drags his hard length along my thigh, kisses creeping lower and lower.

Belly button. Abs.

Zeke’s palms spread my legs farther apart. Head lowers between my open thighs, tongue licking my bikini line. His thumbs track together up the center of my slit, spreading me apart. Tongue flicks my—“Oh shit!” I gasp, breathless. “Oh my god, oh my god!”

He raises his head. “Not even close, baby.”

There is no headboard to grab on to. No bedposts. No pillow or sheet to bite down on. “Oh god Zeke…oh god that feels so gooood…”

“What is this smell?”

“I-I…”

“Do you put perfume on this shit? It’s like pussy crack.”

Oh god, that horrible word is turning me on.

“It…it’s b-baby pow…derrrr,” I moan. My neck thrashes on the mattress, head thrown back, lips hissing when he finally stops licking long enough to suck my clit. “Baby powder.”

“This baby powder-covered sweet spot is fucking amazing,” he says, burying his face and sucking hard. “Mmm…”

His hand drifts, sinking into my pelvis, applying pressure.

My toes curl.

My spine tingles.

“Yes…yes…right there, oh yes…” I’m loud and I don’t care.

Zeke hums into me as my legs instinctively spread farther apart.

The orgasm builds, starting in my…e-e-everywhere…

The orgasm is everywhere, every cell inside me shot up with sparks. My nerves buzz. Quiver. Ache.

Vibrate.

I moan and moan and moan until I’m finally, “C-Coming, oh god, I’m coming…”

Zeke

Violet comes in my mouth—hard—swollen clit throbbing against my tongue as I suck it to a climax. She smells so good. So fucking good I could eat her out all night, over and over again, the amount of intensity I’m feeling indescribable. Surreal.

Having her in my bed, under me.

The taste of her cum, fresh on my mouth? Delicious.

Blonde hair spread across my pillows, she’s pale on every part of her body, excluding the spots where she’s blushing—those are rosy, pink, and ten different shades of peach.

The contrast of her porcelain flesh against my black bed sheets is stark; she looks like an angel lying here.

A pretty angel I want to stick my dick in and fuck.

I rise to my knees. Bend my head to suck on one of her tits, earning me a moan so throaty it gives me pause. Lips puffy from my mouth, eyes glazed over from her orgasm, I flick her nipple with my tongue and blow, the cool air making it pucker, stiff as my swollen cock.

She watches me stroke it, the widest eyes I’ve ever seen. I move to retrieve a condom from the bedside table.

I fucking hate these things.

Nonetheless, I tear it open, toss the wrapper over my shoulder, and slide that motherfucker on, teeth dragging across my bottom lip.

Her hazel eyes are glassed over and she nods, arching her back and rubbing her small breasts against my chest.