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A man believes he is seducing his muse, only to find himself caught in her seductive web.

Lost for the moment in her own thoughts, Larissa ignored the icy wind as it teased a tendril of blonde hair from the chignon caught low on her slim neck, and sent it dancing across her cheek and into her eyes. Larissa shivered and clasped her woolen coat tighter to her slim frame, but not before the cold wind managed to work its way under the fur trimmed collar, eliciting a shiver as it caressed the warm skin of her neck. She moved quickly and slipped through the wide front doors and out of the cold. The heavy doors slammed behind her as a sudden gust of wind tore them from her grasp.

Shimming out of her coat she hung it on the hook by the door, before she made her way across the wide foyer towards the ancient desk and the roaring wood fire. Mrs James, ensconced in an ancient chair, waited patiently, warming her feet on the hearth; her birdlike frame lost amongst the pile of bright cushions.

“Back again Larissa, although I should’ve guessed, it is Friday. I could set my calendar by you girl, you know…regular as clockwork,” Mrs James cackled to herself as her ancient head nodded its agreement. “Yep, Friday seems to come around quicker and quicker every week. Hmm hmm, yes it does.” Without pausing for a breath she continued, “You’ve got the place to yourself again, girl. Should I make us a cup of tea?” It was the same comment she made every Friday and Larissa obligingly laughed.

She warmed her chilled fingers over the crackling flames and grinned her approval of the offer, “I’d love one Mrs James; I stayed outside too long and the wind coming in off the water is bitterly cold this evening, but please, let me make it?”

“No, no, I need to get these old bones moving, I’ll bring it to you…the Blue room?”

Not really waiting for an answer, she bustled out of the room and into the small kitchen; the sound of off key singing accompanied the clinking of china as she set about making tea.

“Thanks, Mrs James." Larissa called out over the clanking of cups, not really expecting an answer as she made her way out of the foyer.

Larissa loved this old house; converted at some point into a small gallery which show cased the talents of local artisans. The quiet building echoed with Larissa’s footsteps as she strolled along the familiar halls. Glancing now and again at a favourite painting or the occasional new display, she made her way slowly from one room to the next, absorbing the peace and quiet.

She loved coming here, particularly during winter when it was so quiet, the rush of tourists over and the island once again restored to the locals. The peace of the old house soaked into her soul, easing the pain of the last few months.

Although she ambled somewhat aimlessly through the house, her slow steps took her on a steady path towards the ‘Blue Room’. Larissa smiled fondly at the rather fanciful name Mrs James had saddled upon, what was in reality, a rather unpretentious room; it’s one redeeming feature the rather spectacular view of the Island’s wind swept beach.

A new painting caught Larissa’s attention as she moved down the long, wide hallway. It looked to be by the new artist who’d moved to the island a month or so back, ‘Patrick Wynter something or other,‘she thought. It was quite different to the typical Australian bush landscapes and ocean sunsets that normally graced the walls of Emerald Island’s one and only gallery. It was vivid and wild, flowing colours and bold brush strokes. Passionate, was the word that sprung to mind.

Larissa was distracted from a closer inspection by a sudden movement out of the corner of her eye, a security camera twisted on its mount, focusing in on her. Larissa’s forehead creased, it was a pity that the gallery needed to install the intrusive things, but with the tourist rush due in the next few months, and the risk of theft growing, the younger artists had requested an upgrade in security.

Feeling a little cheeky and sure that it was only ol’ John, the long suffering Mr James, Larissa lay the tips of her fingers on her pouting lips and blew a kiss at the watching lens. She smirked at what she imagined was John’s answering toothless grin, she winked and continued down the hall. She deliberately rolled her hips so as to enhance the swirl of her skirts and draw attention to the rounded curves of her bottom. Larissa held back a laugh as the camera swivelled on its mount; the whir of the lens zooming in, had her glancing back over her shoulder.

Her sultry blue eyes locked with the lens and she slid her tongue slowly between her teeth, pausing momentarily before caressing her plump lower lip with the pink tip. With the devil in her well and truly taking control, Larissa drew the palm of her hand up the length of her leg and over the rise of her hip and brought it down with a sharp crack against the curve of her bottom. She threw her head back and laughed, delighted with herself, before she twirled and danced through the door way into the Blue room, the echo of her giggle disappearing with her.


Patrick almost swallowed his tongue when the elegant blonde spanked her arse and twirled through the doorway, to be honest his cock had twitched the moment he’d caught sight of her as she stopped in front of his painting. He’d focused in on her face; he was man enough to admit to wanting to stroke his ego, he’d been hoping for a touch of admiration, but had gotten far more than he’d bargained for when she’d played up to the camera in such a provocative way.

He’d spotted her as she swayed down the hallway; a tall, willowy blonde, sleek and refined, dressed in black from head to toe, hair caught loosely, with curls escaping from some bun thingie at her neck. And then in the blink of an eye she’d exploded into a wanton vixen. Her skirt, twirled, lifted and exposed a seductive flash of creamy thigh; she possessed a wicked grin and blue eyes that captured a man’s soul. Okay, so he exaggerated, it wasn’t his soul, but his cock that she now owned.

Flicking the switch from camera four to seven, he observed her as she stood entranced by the ocean vista framed by the wide expanse of floor to ceiling windows; her whole demeanour showed a woman deep in thought.

When her fingers clenched and she spoke over her shoulder, Patrick quickly adjusted the volume. Her voice was low and carefully modulated, as if she held herself together by the slimmest of threads.

He unabashedly listened in on the couple’s conversation; watching the woman transform from cool, reserved beauty to a passionate woman in the blink of an eye. The contrast fascinated him. As he listened, heard her anger and bitterness erupt, he wondered how she could’ve ever believed she was to blame, or for that matter, believe the excuses this Michael had used. Any red blooded man with half a brain could see she oozed passion.


Larissa stood quietly, hands clasped behind her, gazing at the storm tossed waves as they battered against the rocks, sending spumes of white foam high into the air. She loved this view more than any other on the island; it always granted her a moment's respite from the torment that she kept hidden.

With an impatient toss of her head, Larissa shook off her melancholy. No more, that’s it, over and done. He’d moved on, was in fact getting married; she’d heard that delightful tit bit of gossip only this morning over the water cooler at work, then again at the fuel pump, and yet again when she was buying her groceries. The gossips passing on the juicy details; in that ‘just thought you’d want to know’ sympathetic tone, eyes avid and searching.


Only one person ever called her that. Larissa crumpled slightly inside at the sound of Michael’s hesitant query. God, why today of all days, did he have to search her out?

She straightened her shoulders and plastered on a cool smile as she glanced over her shoulder.

“Hello, Michael." She turned slowly, and let her eyes drift over the man she’d thought she was going to spend her life with. “Congratulations, I hear you and Mandy are to be married?”

Michael winced, “Ah, you’ve heard. I wanted to be the one to tell you but…,” his voice trailed off awkwardly, as his eyes shifted uncomfortably under her steady gaze.

“Yes, well you know Emerald, everyone knows what you had for dinner before you’ve even cooked it.” Larissa’s attempt at humour felt flat, even to her own ears.

“I’m sorry, I really am. You shouldn’t have had to hear it from someone else.”

“Four someones actually,” Larissa a couldn’t help the dry comment. ”Why are you really here Michael?”

Michael’s imploring eyes met hers, "I just wanted…. needed to speak to you, Rissa. I wanted to tell you how much I miss you, how much I,” he stumbled to a stop, his big hands open wide, held out towards her in a helpless gesture, as if he’d run out of words, “How much I love you.”

Larissa couldn’t help her jaw falling open and the shocked laugh that escaped before she clapped her hand over her lips. “What! What did you just say?” her voice sounded strangely high and pitchy, even to her own ears as she stalked across the room.

Her finger jabbed furiously into his chest as she let him have it with both barrels.

“You left me, remember? Had an affair. Remember?” Larissa took several deep breaths and reigned in her fury. Her fists clenched and unclenched as she took in several more slow, calming breaths.

“I seem to remember your excuses when I found you both fucking in my bed; 'She was young and exciting' you said, the sex out of this world... that I was staid, unadventurous, and just a little, what was the word…ah, that’s right, boring. You said I was a fucking boring lay, and now you come here, and …and … You love me! Are you serious?” she couldn’t help but laugh, and even though it was tinged with a touch of madness, she enjoyed the release.

“She’s pregnant, Rissa, that’s the only reason why we’re getting married. I never wanted to marry her, and honey, she’s driving me crazy!” Michael’s astonished face pleaded with Larissa to understand. “You would not believe what I have to put up with; her constant talking, she never stops, all day long, nagging me to take her shopping, wanting to change my clothes, forever going on about this friend or that being mean to her. Mean to her, what are we, high school?”

Larissa held up her hand, laughing “I dont know what you expect from me Michael? It's your bed, you made it, now you get to live in it. This is what happens when a 38 year old man sleeps with a 21 year old girl. Consequences are a bitch, Mike.”

Larissa felt the months of self-blame lift from her in a rush. It had never been her fault that this child of a man had left her; it was his immaturity and constant need for adoration that had caused the split.

“I thought that we...?”

Larissa cut him off, “Stop right there Michael, I’m done. Your problems are no longer mine; I wish you and Mandy the best of luck, I really do, but I’m just not interested anymore. Goodbye, Michael.”

“Rissa?” Michael tried again, his smile, the same one that used to melt her heart only a few months ago, now only left her annoyed. What grown man pouts for goodness sake?

“One more thing, Michael, don’t call me Rissa - Okay.”

Michael swung away on his heels, brushing past Mrs James and her husband. John held out the steaming cup of tea, “You all right, sweet cheeks?” His concern for her evident in the angry look he sent Michael’s retreating back.

“You know, John, I really am.” Larissa smiled naturally, for what felt like the first time since she’d walked into her bedroom and been confronted with the Mandy’s smug smile and jiggling breasts; her lithe, young body riding shamelessly upon Michael’s rigid cock.

Larissa sipped her tea, laughing softly “Did you see the look on his face when I told him not to call me Rissa anymore? I thought his head was going to explode,” Larissa giggled in nervous relief, “My God that felt good,” she sighed softly, as she glanced around the room once again.

The camera abruptly shifted on its mount. Frowning slightly, Larissa took a couple of slow steps toward it, glancing curiously back at John. “Who’s working the security cameras?”

John smiled indulgently, “Ah, that would be my sister’s son, Patrick, he loves his gadgets. When I mentioned we were putting them in he said he’d hook it all up for me. I jumped at the chance, seeing as I don’t know squat about that techno stuff.”

John glanced at his wife, wrapping his arm around her narrow shoulders “Come on ol’girl, let me take you home, so you can make me dinner. I’m starving.”

“Don’t ol' girl me, or I’ll make you eat brussel sprouts for a week!” Mrs James cackled evilly at the look of mock horror on her husband’s face. She glanced at Larissa, “Gotta keep him in his place, otherwise he takes advantage. Stay a little longer Larissa, Patrick's still here playing with his toys. Just snip the door; he’ll lock up when he leaves.”

“Thank you Mrs James, I will.” Larissa listened to their affectionate bickering echoing down the hall.

Left alone with her thoughts, she sipped her steaming tea, drifting back to stand before the windows. The sea still looked wild, but she felt truly at peace.

Larissa didn’t hear the heavy tread of footsteps as Patrick walked down the hall towards the Blue room, and when he entered he was able to observe her quietly for a moment. She was truly a beautiful woman.

Startled by a movement out of the corner of her eye, Larissa turned quickly with a surprised gasp. Stood quietly just inside the doorway was a tall, dark haired man. He had an intense face, which looked a little intimidating until the corners of his full lips twitched slightly and he smiled. The smile did something to the harsh angles, rearranging them to create a devilish grin. The deep creases at his eyes fanned out; ‘laugh lines’, the idle thought skittered briefly through her mind, she rather liked them as they hinted at a roguish side and enticed her to smile back.

“I’m Patrick Wynter, I think you noticed my painting a while back?”

His grin was infectious, and the way his hazel eyes roamed appreciatively over her face had Larissa reaching up to adjust the wayward lock of hair hanging over her eyes.

“Sorry?” Larissa arched a single eye brow, as she tried to follow the man’s train of thought.

“The painting of the woman dancing under the autumn leaves; you don’t remember do you?” he sighed. “I’m crushed; I thought it made rather an impact, the way in which you licked your lower lip I thought…”

Confusion cleared as Larissa put the pieces together under Patrick’s laughing gaze.

“Ah, your John’s nephew, I didn’t realise you were also, ‘the Patrick Wynter’, the artist everyone’s been raving about. Welcome to Emerald Island, I’m Larissa.”

Larissa felt her slim hand engulfed in the heat of Patrick's; pleasure tingled and surged through her system, as she tilted her head up to smile her welcome. ‘Such beautiful eyes,’ she thought. Her smile turned into a soft huffing laugh when Patrick raised the back of her hand to his mouth. The press of his warm lips created an unexpected surge of liquid heat to pool between her thighs.

Slipping her hand out of his, Larissa placed a small distance between the two of them and with a sheepish smile explained her actions.

“I thought it was John, operating the camera I mean. If I’d of known it was someone other than him I would never have…,” she shrugged slightly, “Well, you know,” she smiled ruefully as she mimicked the spank to her rear end.

Patrick grinned, and his eyes stayed locked on the curve of her hip.

“Oh, I don’t know, I kind of liked the flash of thigh myself, and ah, the sexy mouth pouting, licking thing you did.” Patrick’s deep chuckle had Larissa’s lips tugging into a small grin, “Well, feel free to do that anytime you wish.”

Heat surged through Larissa, as she realised that Patrick was flirting, she laughed, delighted at the notion. It had been too many years to count since a man had done that.


Patrick stayed with Larissa until she left ten minutes later; he was fascinated by the contrast of cool, untouchable blonde and fiery, sensual woman. He returned to the security room, drawn to once again view the footage of Larissa as she flirted with the camera.

The paint stained fingers of his right hand clasped the stick of charcoal loosely, as it flew over the page. His eyes never left the screen as he constantly rewound the tape, back to that moment where it captured her while she glanced over her shoulder; her smile….lord that smile, it made his cock twitch and his gut clench every time. He drew her as he imagined her, naked and wild, lost in her own pleasure. Larissa's thighs were splayed, her back arched and her head was thrown back in release as her fingers worked her own flesh.

The fingers of his free hand absently stroked his hardened flesh, and ran along the thick ridge slowly, as his other hand flew across page after page, creating images of a Larissa in varying degrees of abandonment.

She inspired him, had his creative juices flowing, not to mention other things, he thought with a dirty smirk. He groaned softly as the image of Larissa licking her lips flickered once more upon the screen , those ‘fuck me’ eyes stared at him from the monitor. Jesus, he wanted those sweet lips wrapped around his cock. Her cool, blue eyes turning molten, as she knelt between his knees, pouty lips wrapped firmly around his rigid length. Just the thought of pulling those blonde tresses free and feeling the silk curls brush his thighs as she loved him with her mouth had his cock throbbing.

Patrick's hand beat furiously, eyes locked to the screen, and with a final groan his head fell back as he came in a blinding rush. His heart thundered, and his cock erupted in thick, white splashes across the monitor, covering Larissa’s face in his release.

Patrick laughed at himself; he hadn’t fantasised about a woman like that since he was seventeen. Mrs Morgan, his year twelve maths teacher; the woman had been a goddess. She had lush curves wrapped up in conservative suits, black rimmed glasses and a severe hairstyle. None of it had hidden her beauty; just like Larissa couldn’t hide the seductive creature she was under the cool exterior. Unlike his unrequited crush on Mrs Swift, he was going to have his cool, contained blonde.

Hastily tucking his softening cock back into his jeans, Patrick gathered up his sketches and set about planning the seduction of Larissa.


Larissa’s breathing stalled as she entered the hall, she angled her head slightly so that her dark blue eyes peeked up from under thick lashes towards the waiting camera. Her smile was triumphant as the lens followed her progress. Relief fluttered in Larissa’s chest; Patrick was here.

Her smile blossomed, and she altered her pace to a seductive prowl. Her hips began a slow, rocking grind over the measured strut of long legs. She revelled in the movement of her breasts; she knew that every sway of her hips sent the soft flesh trembling in the shallow lace cup of her bra. The sensation of cool silk skimming her pale thighs only heightened her awareness of the heat as it poured through her aroused body.

It felt strangely natural to be so overtly sexual, to let the passion she’d always kept hidden flow unchecked. Heat pervaded her body, the all seeing eye of the glass lens highlighted her newly found exhibitionistic tendencies. Patrick was watching, and it thrilled her to her very core.

There, on the wall!

Just as there had been for the previous three weeks, another sketch waited. This drawing like all the others was unmistakably her. The curve of the cheek bone, the high forehead and straight nose, right down to the stubborn tilt of the chin. Larissa blushed, not for the first time. The four works of art all depicted Larissa gradually evolving from an elegant, almost regal beauty into a lush, ripe sexual creature.

Eyes narrowed, Larissa intensely studied the now familiar works. The first was a study of a woman, quiet and still, contemplating some unknown object, one pale rounded shoulder was bare, a hint of one long, lean thigh protruded through the gape of the fur throw, honey coloured hair hung straight as a silk waterfall down her back, hinting at a hidden sexuality.

The second sketch was a little more provocative, a bare breast cupped by slim fingers, proffered up for the viewer’s pleasure. Blood red fingertips tweezed the flushed aching buds and a lock of blonde hair only partially obscured the desire ridden expression on her averted face.

The third drew Larissa like a moth to a flame, she could see herself in every line, the naked curve of her spine, the slim hips and proud thrust of full breasts. The drawing was elegant and refined. Beautiful in a way she had never imagined herself to be.

The final piece had her losing her breath, unlike the previous sketches where Patrick had only hinted at the woman’s sexual nature. This time the woman, Larissa, was in the blatant throes of her release. Her legs were splayed wide, hands slid along pale thighs, and her back arched in pleasure. It was raw and passionate... wild.

Larissa felt the throb of her pulse beat between her thighs, the ache built, as her eyes travelled from one sketch to the next. Each in the series showed the progression of a woman’s metamorphosis from cool and contained beauty to a blatant display of a woman confident in her own sexuality.

Her original shock three weeks ago at finding what was so obviously her, provocative and wanton, there naked for all to observe, quickly became a source of constant arousal. Every Friday for the last four weeks she’d raced through her day, tumultuous desire roiling in her belly, building to an almost frantic need to experience her passion through another’s eyes.

Larissa stepped closer, fingertips reaching for the folded parchment wedged into the artwork’s frame. Another note; Larissa wondered if it contained the same words of desire that the previous three had. Larissa flicked the edge with her fingertip, dragging out the moment, nervousness fluttered low in her belly. With a quick breath she flipped it open, but before reading the messily scrawled note, Larissa let her eyes search out the blank gaze of the camera; she pictured Patrick leaning over the desk, as he watched her every move .


Your beauty astounds me, the passion that exudes from you fills me with an unholy desire to taste, conquer and control. I watch you; I see you as you truly are: Beautiful, Passionate and Wild .

I crave you; the way your eyes smoulder and burn with passion, the sensual way in which your lower lip curves as you smile.

I need to see you, just like this, show me girl; set yourself free .


Larissa’s heart fluttered in her chest, as her imagination took flight. The framed sketch drew her heated gaze and she saw herself as Patrick did; a woman who revelled in her sensual side, who experienced her passion fully, never holding back, always striving, grasping, wringing every drop of excitement from life .

Yes,’ she thought, ‘This is who I want to be.’


Patrick’s avid gaze remained riveted on the screen, the tension in his shoulders extended down his spine and into the valley between his thighs. He was excruciatingly hard, his cock throbbed, an unceasing reminder of his growing need to have this woman.

With sure, confident strokes, Patrick pleasured himself while watching Larissa’s reaction to his work. It was there, written all over her elegant features. Her reaction stunned him; the widening of her eyes, the dilation of her pupils, and her pulse that beat out a rapid tattoo against the slim column of her throat as her breasts rapidly rose and fell under the black silk of her dress. And finally, the way in which her even, white teeth gnawed on the pouting flesh of her full lower lip.

With a smug smile Patrick rocked back into his chair, his hands left his rigid shaft for the moment, as he clasped his fists behind his head.

“You’re almost mine, girl. Another few weeks and you’ll be ripe for the plucking.” His tone was cocky and sure, as he continued to rock back on the rear legs of his chair.

A sudden lurch and the chair settled back onto all four legs with a jaw snapping crunch; Patrick watched as Larissa walked determinedly to the doorway, his brow furrowed in confusion, as he observed her poke her head down the corridor, he wasn’t quick enough to catch her conversation entirely, but he did hear her last words, as he flicked the volume switch on.

“…night, Mrs James. Yes, I’ll be sure to snip the door. Yes, I know Patrick is here.” With those words her eyes locked on the black lens of the camera, a sinful smile gracing her patrician features.

Patrick swallowed audibly, as he watched Larissa prowl through the room, her hips undulated hypnotically, and her back was arched subtly, so that her firm breasts captured his ardent gaze. Patrick's entire being was focused on her slow movements; he came to the abrupt conclusion that he was no longer seducing Larissa, it was in fact she who was now seducing him. A siren wrapped in black silk.

Patrick’s fingers trembled, as he manually adjusted the focus on the camera. The lens followed Larissa as she made her way to the chaise lounge; the same one that graced his latest sketch. Almost of its own accord his hand made its way to the rigid shaft of his cock, absently he stroked it slowly, as he watched Larissa turn and stare up into the lens. He felt as if she could see into his soul with her piercing blue eyes, and he had a moments pause, feeling almost ashamed of the way in which his hand leisurely caressed his hard length. This moment should be shared; she had the right to see the effect her passion had on a man.


Larissa’s heart raced in her chest and was echoed in the aching pulse between her thighs, with slow, unhurried grace she raised her slim fingers to the tie at her side, with a simple tug on the knot her dress began to unravel, leaving her standing almost naked in the harsh, unwavering glare of the camera. 

Long, lean legs were encased in sheer, black stockings, the pale flesh of her thighs exposed to the hungry gaze of the camera. The mound of her sex was barely covered by the minuscule scrap of black silk and her full breasts quivered within the tight confines of the delicate black bra; the peaks of her rose tinted nipples standing hard within its lace confines.

With a confidence she wans’t all together feeling, Larissa sat upon the lounge, her knees pressed tightly together as she maintained eye contact with Patrick through the camera. The lens made a slight hissing noise, as it focused in on her; just knowing that Patrick observed her gave Larissa a surge of power and she set about recreating Patrick's view of her.

Larissa placed her fingertips on her knees; with slow, deliberate precision she allowed a final glance up into the blank gaze of the lens before losing herself in the moment.

She slowly pulled her thighs wide, allowing her fingers to rest on her knees before sliding her nails, with controlled purpose, up the inside of her thigh. The pleasure rippled through out her body, and shocked her with its intensity. She was molten heat, and she revelled in the sensation of her desire as it slowly seeped from her nether lips, and dampened the gusset of her black satin panties; all from the knowledge that behind the gaze of the lens, Patrick watched, and wanted.

Lust surged, creating a rush of heat that radiated from her womanly core; with animalistic need Larissa spread her thighs wider, as she peeled the sticky gusset of her panties to the side, which revealed the plump petals of her sex liberally coated in her slick essence.

She felt beautiful in a way she never had, it was sinful to be so displayed, so open, so vulnerable, and yet so powerful. Slim fingers slid the length of her sopping slit, spread wide her folds, and she gently stroked the tip of one finger against her clit. Whimpering softly, Larissa’s head fell back, her wheat coloured hair cascaded in a silken wave down her arched spine, the movement thrust out her small, firm breasts. She cupped one breast, still encased in black lace, and teased the turgid nipple free, it ached delightfully as she squeezed and manipulated the sensitive nub.

Larissa succumbed to her need, lost herself completely in the moment, soft moans and sighs slipped from her parted lips, as a slim finger danced within her sex, teasing out her pleasure with slow, sure stokes.

I am sin,’ she thought, as her finger drove deep, a second joining the probing of her molten depths.


The gravelly voice startled Larissa, which caused her to wrench her fingers free of her moist depths; her breath came in panicked pants as her gaze flew to Patrick stood in the doorway. Her eyes ran the length of his body locking on his hand which gripped his rampant cock, before sliding back up to search his face for a hint of what he was thinking. His face was etched with desperate need and his hand continued to slide along his impressive length.

“Take off your panties, girl, I want to see you like my drawing; fucking naked, and wild”

Larissa felt her self standing on quivering legs, and without a word she did as she was bidden. She kept her eyes locked with Patrick’s as she flicked the clasp between her breasts letting the filmy fabric slip away, exposing her rose tipped breasts to Patrick's avid gaze.

“Don’t stop now, I said naked, Rissa.” Patrick’s voice was deep and controlling, sending dark pleasure skittering along Larissa's spine.

Larissa felt a shudder of desire roll through her as she perched on the edge of the couch. She stood to remove her damp panties and presented her trim rear to Patrick, and with a heated glance over her shoulder, she bent at the hips and drew the silk slowly down the length of her legs. Larissa arched her back knowing that her pouting sex lips could be seen between the vee of her taut thighs.

Patrick smiled as she taunted and teased, his eyes roved over the delicious display laid out before him, his hand slowly pumped his cock as he contemplated his next move,“That’s it, my girl, show me everything, show me just how passionate you really are.”

Patrick slumped down into the chair facing Larissa, their eyes meshed, as she slowly lowered her now bare form upon the chaise lounge. Her slumbering gaze roamed over Patrick before it locked onto his thick cock encased in his paint stained fingers. Her tongue snuck out to dampen her lower lip and Patrick’s cock responded by oozing clear, slick fluid that dripped down the thick, veined shaft. Patrick couldn’t help but groan at the image of her on her knees, mouth locked around his throbbing shaft, licking and begging for the taste of him.

She tore her gaze from temptation, draped her naked form across the surface of the lounge, and parted her legs which invited Patrick’s gaze to wander up her pale thighs to her core. Bare, smooth flesh, parted to reveal what could only be described as Nirvana. Perfect, pale lips pouted, revealing swollen, drenched folds that begged for the touch that would release her passion.

“Larissa, you know what I want, don’t make me tell you again,” Patrick's voice rumbled, causing her sex to clench in a spasm of need.

Slim fingers trailed across the hard peaks of her breasts and then journeyed down the curve of her waist dragging Patrick’s hungry gaze with them. Without pausing Larissa dipped two fingers straight into her heated center. She hissed in pleasure and thrust her breasts forward, unconsciously mimicking the sketches mounted on the wall behind her.

Patrick's satisfied smirk disappeared, as hunger etched lines around his compressed lips, his fist tightened on his shaft while he watched Larissa burn. She was lost, long fingers disappeared into her slit, her thighs quivered and plaintive whimpers and hungry growls escaped her pouted mouth.

Her whispered, “Patrick,” had him standing and dropping his jeans to the floor, his shirt quickly followed, as he covered the short distance to her in long, easy strides. His cock proudly thrust forward, claimed Larissa’s gaze and she parted her lips, waiting for him to fill the heated cavern of her mouth.

Patrick growled, as he watched his siren continue to pleasure her sex; her wide spread thighs glistened with the evidence of her need while her fingers thrust deep within her clasping slit. She would pull them out occasionally to paint her desire across the engorged nub. Larissa rubbed gentle circles over her outer lips and clit before dipping inside once more. He was torn between watching her fingers play and observing the obvious pleasure she took in having his rigid manhood filling her mouth.

Her eyes were slumberous, heavy eyelids lowered so that only the occasional flash of her sapphire orbs clashed with his. Her full lips were locked around his thickness, her busy, little tongue traced lines of pleasure on the underside of his shaft. The way she hummed deep in her throat every time he pushed deeper rocked him to his core; it sent jolts of sensation straight to his balls, and tightened every muscle in his body. Her head moved with slow deliberate glides, engulfing his cock in her wet heat.

Patrick grasped thick handfuls of her cascading hair, and thrust his manhood deep into her throat, feeling her muscles contract around the head. He jerked reflexively as slim fingers fluttered to the root of his cock, circling him as she fought not to gag around the solid thickness that filled her. Her hand began to fondle and tease his balls, the orbs tightened in pleasure as her nails scrapped across the inside of his thighs. Patrick eased slowly from her mouth, smiled slightly, as she licked the head of his cock and tried to enclose him once more between her begging lips. He laughed at her frustrated attempts to recapture his bobbing cock with her mouth, and when she glared up at him through narrowed eyes he relented and let her run her tongue slowly up his full length. It took all his control not to close his eyes in pleasure; she was a sight to behold.

Larissa was naked, passionate, wild, and demanding; just as he’d pictured her. Her blonde tresses wrapped wildly around her shoulders, the tips of her breasts peeked through the curtain of hair, and one hand wrapped around the base of his cock as her lips and tongue made love to the mushroomed head. His eyes flickered between her mouth engulfing his cock and watching her dainty fingers delve between her thighs, stroking, teasing and disappearing into her slit.

“Enough, Rissa, I need to be inside you. I want to watch you come apart around my cock. Show me how wild and beautiful you are, girl. ”

Tossing back her hair, Larissa contemplated Patrick, as she slowly reclined into the lounge she continued to idly pleasure her pussy by teasing her swollen, flushed folds and dipping her fingers deep. Dragging her fingers from her wet depths, she painted lines of passion from the tips of her nipples to her mouth, tasting, licking and savouring her flavour.

“Do you enjoy knowing you’ve created a monster, Patrick?” Larissa smiled slowly, drawling in a soft voice, “I’ve discovered that I’m a very naughty girl,” her smile was salacious, and Patrick felt lust drive deep into his belly at the idea that this woman was bent on driving him over the edge.

“It’s you, Patrick, it's how you see me, I want to be that woman.” With that she grasped his hand and gently suckled on the tip of his thumb, tongue circling and teeth nipping, as she drew him down between her thighs.

Patrick payed homage to her breasts with his lips, the faint taste of her sex lingered from her own fingertips and he engulfed as much of her flesh into the heat of his mouth as he could, savouring her unique tang.

Patrick’s rough fingers travelled over the silk of her thighs, spread her wider to accommodate the width of his shoulders, and he lowered his mouth to her sex. His agile tongue worked slowly across her weeping slit; he teased and probed the soft folds until he had Larissa writhing and thrusting against his face. Her fingers buried in his hair pulling and pushing, as she tried to bury him deeper into her sex.

She mewled softly when Patrick thrust two fingers deep into her channel, slipping them slowly back and forth before dragging his body up and over hers. He continued to play with her folds as his mouth claimed hers. His hot tongue slipped over her lips, offered her the taste of her sex as he slipped the head of his cock into her opening.

Patrick pulled back from their kiss, watched her eyelids flutter as he slowly worked his hips, delving deeply into her welcoming heat. Rough hands scrapped across smooth flesh as their bodies worked in unison, the endless glide of steel within soft clasping folds had Patrick gritting his teeth, his need to thrust deep and fill Larissa with his seed an overriding compulsion.

Larissa whispered a never ending litany of filthy, fuck words. The contrast between her elegant looks and the husky way in which she hummed, “Hmm, I love your gorgeous cock, so thick and hard. Oh god, deep, I can feel you reaching so deep inside my cunt, Patrick. Harder, fuck me harder.” had Patrick's cock twitching, he felt humbled and God like all at the same time; to have this beautiful woman mewling and begging was an experience he never wanted to end. 

His thrusting hips drove deep, Larissa urging Patrick on “That’s it baby, just a little more, just a little harder. Let me feel you deep inside. Hmmm, fuck me Patrick, I love being your little slut.”

Upon hearing Larissa whisper, ‘your little slut’, Patrick lost control, he flipped Larissa up and over onto her knees, he re-entered her with one deep thrust, his fingers bitting into the flesh of her hips as he drove repeatedly into her soaked slit.

“Not a slut,” he growled into the valley where her slim neck met her quaking shoulder. “You’re a – oh fuck!” his back arched in pleasure, as he felt Larissa’s slim fingers between her thighs, teasing and playing with his shaft as he pressed into her.

Patrick grasped a fist full of hair and pulled her around to face him, he stilled, hard cock buried to the hilt. His breath whispered across her lips as he bent closer, “You’re a fucking goddess, Larissa. Look at you, you’ve got me on my knees here, woman, worshiping you, fantasising for weeks about having you. Those sketches aren’t how I wish you to be, they are you.”

Kissing her roughly, Patrick resumed his slow loving, his teeth bit down into the curve of shoulder, held her still as his hips shunted his sex rapidly into her drenched depths. Patrick continued to hover over Larissa’s arched back, his fingers traced the delectable curve of her spine and around to her heaving breasts. He pinched the tips, and groaned when she pressed into his chest.

Patrick knew Larissa was close, but he was still surprised when her back arched and her head flung back, her exposed throat begging for the bite of his teeth as her cry of completion echoed around the room. Watching her hips thrash against his drove Patrick over the edge and with four quick thrusts, his groans melded together with her little ragged whimpers and he climaxed.

Patrick’s smug smile resurfaced as he watched tremors skitter down Larissa’s spine, her clenching sex milked the remaining cream from his shaft. Using the pads of his fingertips, he stroked the tense muscles of her back, settled her with his gentle touch.

“Come back to my apartment Larissa, I want to draw you, but this time it will be for our own pleasure. You’re so beautiful when you lose yourself like that…I want to capture that moment as you climax,” Patrick waited anxiously, he realised in that moment, as she breathed quietly beneath him, that her answer was rather important.

“Will you draw us together?” her saucy smile, as she glanced over her shoulder through the veil of tousled curls, had his heart resuming a normal rhythm once more.

“If you ask nicely, Rissa, I’ll do anything you want.”

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