Free A Taste of Utopia by L. Duarte Page A

on the moisture along her clit, lubricating the tip of my cock.
    “Fuck.” With a grunt, I thrust hard and deep into the hot depth of her.
    Her body coils, taut and tense. Her mouth lets out a cry. It carries the sound of pain and pleasure. I capture her lips and thrust my tongue into her mouth. My hands shackle her wrists, and my hips pin her to the mattress.
    My thrusts are merciless—hard and fast.
    Her cunt convulses around my dick. I want to slow down, savor and lengthen our pleasure. But my body wants what it wants.
    I release her wrists. Her hands, so small and delicate, grab my biceps, her legs wrap around my hips urging me closer, deeper.
    My name becomes a liturgy on her tongue as she cries out repeatedly.
    My mind borderlines complete insanity. My body, bursting with energy, is as uncontrollable as a ruptured live wire is.
    “Goddamnit, woman,” I grunt, plunging my tongue back in her mouth.
    She sucks my tongue, her nails sink into the skin of my arms. Her pussy, tight and warm, clenches, throbs and grips my dick as she rides her orgasm.
    I come. Hard.
    I lower my face to the valley of her breasts. My panted breaths are blowing on her skin, my hips making slow, short thrusts as I too, ride the remnant of my orgasm.
    We are silent.
    There is nothing to be said. The feelings of what transcribed between us transcend words. Render them useless.
    “Good morning,” I finally say.
    “Morning.” Her voice is raw from screaming my name.
    I withdraw from her. And the absence of her surrounding me makes me feel as naked as Adam must have felt that day in Eden.
    I snatch the condom off my dick and dispose of it in the wastebasket next the bed. A soft purr from Lottie calls attention to my semi-erection. I glance at her.
    Her hair is tumbled with sleep, her lips are red and swollen, and her face is flushed. But I’m drawn to her eyes. They are wide, innocent, and full of sunshine. It sends a shiver up my spine.
    Has a virgin pussy whipped my dick into submission? I shake off the line of thought.
    “Baby, if you make another sound like that I’ll have to take you again. You’re sore, I’m hungry, and we both need a shower. ” I gather her in my arms, so she is lying on top of me, and kiss the top of her head. “So hush.”
    She stretches and nuzzles into my chest making another lazy and quiet purr.
    “I’m warning you.”
    She raises her hand, and her index finger starts to draw loops on my chest.
    “Is this real?” she asks in that raspy voice of hers.
    “Pretty sure it is.” Unless it’s a utopian dream and I’ll wake up.
    “Are we insane?”
    “Pretty sure we are.”
    “Are we really married?”
    “Baby, I have the certificate that says so, and the bloody sheets to prove the consummation.”
    “We need to talk about it.”
    “No, we don’t.”
    Ignoring me, she slips off my lap and sits on the bed. Her hair falls over her shoulders, covering her breasts. I want to reach up and brush it away so it won’t obstruct my vision of her gorgeous tits. But her face is grave. She’s intent on having this conversation.
    However I’m not ready to address the damn white elephant sitting in the middle of the room, so with swift movements I stand, scoop her up and take her to the bathroom.
    “First things first: Shower, food, conversation.”
    “But—”
    I kiss her open lips midsentence.
    “In this order: shower, food, talk.”
    I place her on the marble floor. Inside the shower stall, I switch on the water, flip on all the jets, adjust the temperature, and say, “Get your gorgeous behind in.” I smack her ass as she steps into the stream. “I’ll order breakfast and will come back to shower with you,” I say, closing the door.
    After ordering breakfast, I fish in my wallet for another condom. I should have specified that a shower included wet, steamy, vertical sex.
    An urgent pounding at the door bursts the bubble that had been keeping us isolated from the world.
    “It can’t be room service. I