He rubbed the jam over her nipples and breasts sensually before diving in.
Starting with gentle licks from her nips, he lapped his tongue around the entirety of her breasts, soft moans escaping Mrs. Olivarez's lips encouraging him further.
Resting his weight entirely on her, he came to her lips and pecked her, the scent of jam, sweat, and perfume lingering in the air like an aphrodisiac.
Pulling back, he grabbed her thighs, smooth skin soft over the mass of flesh and muscle, and set them over his shoulder.
With his lips, he pried the latex away from her core, revealing it in all its glistening glory, the taste of her juices stuck on the fabric lingering on his tongue. Without raising his head, he demanded, "Jam."
Mrs. Olivarez looked around, finding it at her hip, easily in Marke's reach. Regardless, she did a crunch and, with a lunge, grabbed the jam, laying back down.
"Don't spill it now," Marke warned, lips just an inch apart from her muff, merely breathing on it, and looking up at her. "The sheet's expensive."
The smile threatening to bloom on her plump lips told Marke all he needed to know about what the woman thought of his words.
One characteristic about Mrs. Olivarez, and even Ms. Terri, was that they never downplayed their wealth. They had it and never pretended that they didn't.
"Of course," she said, offering him the jar while she was lying down.
Marke didn't move and stared at her.
"What?" he asked.
He looked at her muff, breathing a hot breath, then looked back up. The message was clear enough now.
She looked at him with wide eyes, surprised.
If just this was enough to startle her, asking to spit in her mouth when she said he could do anything would earn him a scolding or, worse, a slap. He sighed internally, thankful for his restraint. Maybe he could do that while she was under the influence of hot touch, but not only would that not sit well with Marke himself, but also they would still retain their memory when the effects of hot touch faded.
He blew another breath into her muff, her legs trying to close around his head, but he pried them apart. He knew the limits.
"Fine," she blew a breath, scooping out a handful, and taking a breath to steel her resolve, in one swift motion she tossed it, landing straight on Marke's nose. "Oh," she stifled a chuckle. "A-are you okay?" She snickered. "I—I didn't mean that."
Swiping the jam away, he pushed her legs down and got up, standing beside the bed with arms folded.
Mrs. Olivarez presumed he really was mad. "Hey," she attempted to explain herself, "I was trying to throw it on my...you know..."
"I don't care." Marke shrugged. "Nothing is happening until you apply that jam on your coochie like you would rub cream over your face. Gentle, considerate, all while looking straight at it."
The woman played along. Nodding, she took out another scoop—while Marke laid out a tissue and set the glob of jam on it—and staring at him, she reached for her core.
"Eyes down there." He pointed.
Scrunching her nose at him, she pulled her knees in, cupping her palm and slapping against her muff with a wet thwack.
She glanced at him.
With his brows, he motioned for her to focus.
Her eyes returned to the task at hand. A shaky breath fled her lips, chest undulating as she glided her palm upward—small blobs of orange jam hung between her folds, to the sides, and near her clit.
It wasn't gentle nor considerate. But, he was horny as well, and the foreplay couldn't go on forever.
Swift like a cheetah pouncing on prey, Marke was between her legs, preventing not only the jam from falling onto the bed but also causing the woman to yelp at the sudden assault as he began feasting.
He moved onto the sides, cleaning them foremost with his tongue. Her legs coiled around his head, thighs the same size as his skull, clamping him in place. Then, he pried the folds apart, dragging his tongue down while the tip grazed the vulva. As he did, the jam plopped down on the sheet.
For fu*k's sake. He thought. The sheet really was expensive, made from high-grade silk.
He didn't have time to get them cleaned tomorrow since he had to pay a visit to dear old Miss Ann, and she would no doubt keep him wherever she was for the entire day as interest. It would have to be today. He had planned on rotting away on his couch the entire day. But, this wasn't bad. Not at all.
But he was still annoyed. Let's take it out on her. He decided.
He descended on her muff, licking with a frenzy, legs tightening around his head, the scents drilling into his nostrils and fogging his brain.
He clamped her clit between his lips, sliding his tongue from side to side through the gap.
She grabbed his hair, and with a groan through clenched teeth, her pelvis shuddered against his mouth, a fountain of juices greeting his taste buds and coating the lower half of his face, the muscles of her thighs spasming.
[Stat Point: 8]
He had earned one point.
"Ahh..." she inhaled a long breath, arms blocking her face.
He pushed her legs off, coming up for air, the air shredding through the cacophony of smells in his nose.
"You done?"
"Huh?" She peeked at him.
With no warning whatsoever, Marke got on his knees, and lifting her hips to meet his, he entered.
Mrs. Olivarez stared dumbfounded at the ceiling, breaths erratic as she clenched her core, her insides clamping down upon him.
He took it out.
Her eyes darted to him.
He put it in again.
While their eyes clashed, Mrs. Olivarez exhaled a sharp breath. Her thighs spasmed once more, limp legs carried by Marke's hands, hips in the air, and weight supported entirely by her upper body on the bed. "Fu..." Her features were scrunched up, looking as though she was about to cry. "Fuc..."
With a jolt, as though electricity were coursing through her body, she suddenly clamped her legs around his hips and pulled him down on herself.
"Hold me," she pleaded. "Hold me, please."
He heard the urgency in her voice and did as was instructed. She wrapped her arms behind his head and saw tears forming on the edge of her eyes.
She kissed him with a fury, slobbering all over.
Then, just a second later, she began quivering against him, her throat letting out a guttural groan against his lips. Her hip thrashed, tears running down the side of her eyes as she came like a volcano erupting with his shaft still inside her.
"Okay, okay, it's fine," she told herself as she descended from the heights of pleasure into rationality.