“Some kisses are expensive.”

I adore breasts whose curves promise heaven. Large, small, medium. A handful, a mouthful, a facefull. Breasts with small, dark, large and light nipples. I love them all. But what is it about them that captures me so?

It is the hints they give us as cleavage. A study of lines that pulls the eye downward. They are very hard to hide – they make their presence known through layers of clothing. They are femininity and sensuality. They are a gateway to pleasure. They are a place to rest and a place to get lost in. They are mother, wife, and lover.

In my thoughts, one favored idea is that of tying her up and teasing her breasts until she cannot bear it anymore – and then pushing past. Keeping her captive and seeing just how closely tied are the lines between nipples and clit. Holding her down and nuzzling, licking, sucking, biting, tasting until her nipples ache and her body is taunt with unrelieved tension.

***

D’jaevle pages, “So what do you want for Christmas?”

Isolde pages, “Hmmms…a kiss?

D’jaevle presses in closer, his body warm as he slips behind you, drawing your hair aside, “Some kisses are expensive.”

Isolde pages, “Uh oh. I wasn’t aware of that…” Isolde leans back into you, closing her eyes. “Hmmm…so do you think I’d be able to afford one?”

D’jaevle runs his lips slowly over the curve of your throat, tasting your skin and the subtle heat underneath it. He chuckles softly, his teeth finding a place at the edge of your neck, grazing your skin. “How much can you pay?”

Isolde whimpers, wriggling back against you, reaching back to touch the sides of your thighs, “For one of yours? Any price…”

D’jaevle chuckles softly, his tongue teasing the edge of your ear, tracing it slowly. Hands rest on your waist, drawing you back against his knee. “You say that, but…”

Isolde subtly rubs herself back on your knee, turning your head, her lips almost against your cheek, “But what?”

D’jaevle runs a finger down the side of your neck, following it with small burning kisses that bring the warmth of your skin to the surface, “What if I were to say the price was to hear your ragged breath while I pushed you over the edge?”

Isolde whimpers, “Ooo…you play hardball”

D’jaevle wraps his other hand around you, pressing you back, so that you feel him along your back, a warm presence. “I know of only one way to play.”

Isolde places her hands over yours, running her fingertips over each of your fingers. She presses her lips to your cheek, then whispers, “Such a naughty boy.”

D’jaevle mmmms, his fingers finding their way under your shirt to press against your bare stomache, fingers spread, “Are you still willing to pay any price…for a kiss?”

Isolde whimpers and nods softly. “You drive a hard bargain…but when the timing is right, I think I might just give in.”

D’jaevle speaks softly, “We shall see, M’lady…” and he turns, one hand on the back of your neck, drawing your head back slightly so that when his lips meet yours, your looking up at him; lips part, you taste a hint of cloves and his mouth moves to yours.

Isolde closes her eyes, the softest moan of relief slips between her lips into yours as our mouths hungrily seal.

D’jaevle shares with you his hunger and burning – tongue along yours, pressing slowly, fingers digging into your lower back, feeling your bare skin. He finally draws back, his eyes finding yours before his fingers slip your shirt up and over your head, revealing more skin for his eyes. You can feel his gaze like a touch as it traces your breasts.

Isolde’s arms slip around you, hands curiously wandering over your sides, up your back, tongue rolling around yours lazily as she shift softly, breasts rubbing against your chest. She takes a deep breath, her chest rising, her bared skin still warm despite the cold outside. A small smile spreads across her lips, “Do you like the new bra?”

D’jaevle brings one hand to your shoulder, drawing it slowly to the side, letting it slip across your skin, “Describe it to me.”

Isolde shudders a bit from your light touches. “Amethyst color…lower half of the cups are smooth satin, the top halves lacy…just can barely make out the top of my nipples…plunges in front…lickable amount of cleavage revealed

D’jaevle speaks, his breath tickling your chest as he lowers his head, “I like…” Moist lips find the edge and begin to trace their way down the inside curve of one breast to the edge of your bra, “likable cleavage…”

Isolde lightly tangles her fingers into the back of your hair, cupping your head as your lips spread their warmth across her silky skin. She breathes slowly, deeply, the curve of her breast rising into your face as she inhales.

D’jaevle runs his fingers along your back, finding the catch and loosening it with deft fingers. His mouth slips lower, tracing each inch as more skin is revealed. Finally he pauses, lips brushing the tip of one nipple, and then circling it…

Isolde sighs softly as your lips greet her plumped nipple, her fingers curling into the back of your head. She slips the strap off her arm, then cups her fingers under her full breast, lifting it into your lips.

D’jaevle accepts it as an offering, lips parting around the edges to suckle slowly, taking his time to tease the tip with gentle but persistent licks, then along the side as his mouth draws it deeper, lips pressed against your silken skin.

Isolde closes her eyes as her head rolls back, savoring the pleasure of your lips on her…relieving her ache. She releases her breast, letting it hang softly under its own weight…her hand slips over your shoulder, rubbing your skin while pulling you in closer.

D’jaevle moves to the other nipple, flicking it lightly with the tip of tongue before nibbling, teeth grazing the edges, hungry.

Isolde’s fingertips press into the back of your head, her nails softly scratching along your scalp. The hand on your back slips back over your shoulder, down the front of your shirt…her thumb finds your nipple and circles it roughly.

D’jaevle pauses, her ministrations drawing a bite sharper then intended as he shivers, then leaves your breast wet as he presses his face momentarily between each breast, lost in your heat and scent.

Isolde draws her shoulders together, her elbows pressing the side swells of her breasts, burying you in vanilla scented cleavage.

D’jaevle gasps, his tongue finding a place against your skin as he licks his way back up your chest to your neck, face buried there as his own fingers press lower, into the back of your thighs.

Isolde swivels her hips, backing into your fingertips, so eager for your touch. She cups the nape of your neck, stroking the skin beneath your hair as she feels your hot breaths on her neck.

D’jaevle curls his fingers along the back of your thighs, lifting you slightly as he pulls you close, thigh wedged between yours, “If I had you in my room right now…”

Isolde closes her thighs against yours, whimpering softly as she discovers how wet she is…sure the dampness might even be detectable to your thigh, “Yes? If you had me in your room right now…what?”

D’jaevle slowly works his thigh even deeper, rubbing rhythmically back and forth, his body hard as he holds you against it, “I would take you. Right here, right now.” He grinds a bit harder, his fingers finding your nipples, rolling them along the tips, “I would fuck you. I would make you suffer pleasure.”

Isolde moans, her whole body tensing at the sound of your words. She rocks over your thigh, her panties soaked through now, wincing at the unexpected effects of your words…softly whispering, “Suffer? How cruel…” Her fingers grasp your hair in the back, gathering and tugging it.

D’jaevle drags fingernails down your breasts, catching nipples harshly as they go. His head lowers to your lips, taking a kiss, and another, “I can be very cruel.””

Isolde growls, voice low and guttural, “Beast.”

D’jaevle pants hard against your neck and then tears himself back, his eyes on yours as he gathers his voice, “And now…I must go…I do hope next time…my price will fit your timing.”

Isolde grins against her will, “Damn you.”

D’jaevle allows himself a small smile, his hardness pressed tight against your thigh through the clothing. “Quite likely, yes.”

Isolde sharply raises her thigh against you, her eyes fixed onto yours. “Sweet Dreams, Beast.”