After the premiere. Billy's mouth was merely an instrument for his tongue to twist and swirl with exquisite precision—those circles left her lips parched, as they hadn't competed in such a contest for quite some time. Billy gazed at Scarlett's completely surrendered body, now stripped of all clothing, shedding the strength she customarily displayed after the red carpet. He simply massaged her with affection and lethal tenderness; she was particularly sensitive in her nerve endings, which circled against Scarlett as she tried to temper Billy's fervor and not lose himself in the pleasure it sparked in her.
He was understandably desirous of every feature of the woman who gave herself fully to him. She shifted and now straddled him; her light thong was white and sheer. As she pressed her body forcefully against his, every brush became a fantasy he would never forget. He noticed her ears then, exposed—one of her most sensitive spots—and he pursued them; his tongue was what beckoned.
The music drawing near in curiosity was a French record, but Scarlett felt herself melting amid the amorous melodies.
Billy moved downward then, along her neck, and kissed her breasts. His firm tongue traced every inch of the girl until it reached below her navel, while she clutched his hair, fingering the delicate lace. He could see how wet she was; the precum soaked her underwear, and her eager lips glistened fully. He tasted her slowly and played, gently biting her thighs, pressing his hand on her stomach while his tongue explored that marvelous button of pleasure. His finger reached it too, that G-spot, which brought her to intense orgasms after just two minutes—two, in fact.
Two orgasms she tried to fend off; the urge to urinate ignited her, and she attempted to pull away, but then came the boom, and she cried out. A gush—a famous squirt—struck Billy's nose as she, filled with shame, turned away. It was the second time she had experienced such a release.
Billy, devoted to drinking from her and aware that her sensitivity worked against her, didn't notice when a finger slipped calmly into his anus. When both fingers touched that delicate wall, she bit the pillow hard. Billy, on the other hand, released as he sensed it was time to turn his attentions to himself. He positioned his member, which collided; she felt its hardness, its heat against her rear. The mere way she closed her eyes, the music, the scents—everything filled her with a mysterious madness.
He took her from behind, feeling her lift one leg over his back and press her foot against his neck. Something in her broke—not related to submission or the act itself, but simply a biological and natural response that emerged when everything hung suspended in the air, when something in her adapted to feel only the powerful rhythm. Her reddened eyes seized the pleasure surging through her, claiming it while the rest exploded in her body—the insecurity of being torn, the faint hint of being tamed stirring repulsion. But now, taken this way, something primal and instinctive drove her to clench tightly and heat up like a furnace, releasing gentle orgasms.
Everything had been so good, she replayed in her mind. His behavior toward her in public was impeccable; he treated her better than a lady, always so attentive and loving. He devoted his art to her, addressed her concerns, and handled the uncomfortable interviews on his own without her needing to ask. He was subtle; his eyes always watched her in silence, strong and confident. Mysterious, and when he satisfied her in every way, something in him—when they dwelt as lovers—unleashed the beast within that bit, gripped, and dominated during the act. She let go completely; she didn't like being restrained or blindfolded—none of that appealed to her.
But the way he took her from behind like an animal, like a dog simply unleashing its heat—that excited her, short-circuiting her mind. Thousands of nerve endings fired across her body, pushing the boundaries of decency into a lovers' song that brought them pleasure too profound to question for its simplicity. Billy finished deep in her belly, but that was just the start; they engaged in two more rounds while sweat bathed them, and pleasure touched heights never reached before. When one is in love, the body tends to savor ecstasy more intensely, and their mutual delight was powerful, turning everything into a ceremony of lived bliss.
"-Dawn is almost here," Billy commented, wrapping himself in Scarlett's skin as she leaned against him—a shy gesture that decided for her, deciding in some way.
"-I'm exhausted, but sleep won't come; sometimes I fear I won't sleep at all," Scarlett told him.
"-You know, I think I'm fortunate to sleep whenever I want. I believe I love my life."
"-Maybe today is our last day together," Scarlett replied, a bit nervous. She hadn't expected time to pass so quickly. Detachment didn't sit well with her at all; it was something she needed to work on.
"-You have photos from my concert—I sent plenty, and my agent sent others. You can pass them to someone; I hear they're hugely popular among older adults. I think they're legendary in their own way; it might come in handy as an extra card," Bill remarked.
"-Recordings and more recordings, no break until June," Scarlett whispered to him. "They paused one recording for me, and it makes me feel a little guilty, but I have the contract."
"-Then let distance make us love each other more," Billy whispered, kissing her sweetly.
"-It doesn't do it justice," Scarlett responded, utterly lost. His words crushed her; the distance she felt every time they were in different places was unbearable, and their schedules only hindered their love. While Billy, in his madness, attended parties, she felt embarrassed—and that was utterly deplorable for her, who anxiously awaited seeing him.
How intimate it was then when their faces drew close for the opportunity to spark between them. The flash of shared living was strong, simply autonomous for each of them.