Who Names The Colors

Persephone

He seemed to have. But not for food when he found her in the kitchen in his sheer shirt and pants. Harry wrapped her up from behind and the hug might have been filial, except for the presence of his hard dick against her ass and his open mouth on her jaw.

"What're you doing?" His voice creaked like an old man's bones.

"Making you breakfast." Jo found she didn't even want to stop herself from pressing back into him, from placing her pelvis within the bowl of his.

"In my shirt?" Jo felt his hands on the back of her thighs and then he pulled his hips back just enough to fill his hands with her ass. She could feel, practically see, the overflow of her flesh between his fingers.

"It was that or naked." She teased. Jo had little idea where her dress had wound up or how it had fared last night.

"Ughhhh! Zoe?" The ring of his voice was an alarm.

Jo pointed at her handy monitor. Zoe was still in the bed he had helped fashion for her.

"Good." Was all he said before he caught a hand and turned her with more grace than a waltz but the heat of a salsa, and grabbed her by the back of her thighs to carry her into the studio.

The door thudded like a untuned piano, but it was still music to her ears before she remembered one thing. "Harry, you have a sore."

"I know, I don't care." He said into her neck where the few hairs of his stubble were trying their best to irritate the skin.

"Well, I do. If we go again, you'll not heal for far too long."

Harry pulled back then and stared at her, "What's that mean ,then?" His smile was hopeful, and one sided, the left dimple was popped, but she knew just what would bring out its twin.

She placed her mouth against his and said, "It means, much as another go right now would be lovely, I think the whole week's worth of sex is worth more. Because I'm grown up, and can delay gratification. Can you?" She licked his open mouth, caught his tongue and one canine.

"You want me to delay your gratification?" He chicken necked to look at her, "I can do that."
And he dropped to his knees me pulled her pants with his gravity as he slid her to a stop over his mouth. "Great angle to get my mouth and hands in you."

That idea was thrilling, and the reality was amazing! He was right about the angle, it seemed to take away any of the awkwardness of sliding his fingers inside of her while getting his mouth around her center. It felt so good, she was near her edge quickly. Harry just didn't let her cascade over it. Jo was sure he had ever intention to edge her, but the smell of burning egg and bread did his job for him.

"Harry!" He stopped abruptly at her tone and she slid off him, she heard the squelch of his fingers when she uncoupled them.

Jo was moving fast and Harry looked around bewildered and nervous, like they had been discovered by an inquisitive three year old.

She was pulling the ruined food from the stove and trying to scrape off the caked on parts. "There goes another spatula." Jo held up the twisted implement for his inspection and found herself laughing despite her irritation at herself when he started humming 'another one bites the dust'. He took the pan out of her hand and danced her around to the song he was now singing in his surprisingly good Freddie Mercury imitation. He spun her out and back to him in a grapple like hug.

"Sorry, baby. I didn't mean to distract you." She pulled back and narrowed her eyes at him. "Well, I did, but... anyway, Do you have another pan and spatula." Jo lay back against his chest and breathed in the warm morning scent of him. She wasn't sure exactly what he smelled like, maybe sleep-stained sheets, a linger of sex, a tang of her, his old cologne, toothpaste, and an under layer of paint. It was the best smell in the world. She pressed her nose to the depression in his chest and inhaled then pressed a moist kiss to his heart.