The iced tea left a mark on the white table cloth as Katniss lifted the ornate glass to her lips. The drink was sweet and then again it wasn't really iced tea. It was the house specialty at the Roosevelt Hotel.
"Long Island Iced Tea" our waiter called it, I drew from memory.
The staff had brought us a glass pitcher of it, on the house, for the newlyweds.
Katniss took another sip and eyed me from under her tilted hat brim. We splurged earlier that day in Jackson Square, finding a hat in her favorite shade of green with feathers. The verdant color sat atop her dark hair like a crown. Her braid was pinned into a bun at the nape of her neck.
My fingers itched to sketch this moment. The coy look on her face, the elegant goblet in her hand, and the tiny beads of perspiration dotting her décolletage.
A cocktail napkin and a hotel pen substituted for my pad and charcoals, tucked away in our honeymoon suite - or 'love nest' as Katniss referred to it.
"What on Earth are you sketching now, Peeta?" she laughed.
"The humidity here does things to you dear, I'm just trying to capture the beauty," I replied.
"Everyone here seems to have a weakness for something: gambling, drink….beauty," she mused.
This comment has recaptured my attention. "Having an eye for beauty is not the same thing as weakness," I pointed out. "Except possibly when it comes to you."
She nodded in response, allowing my compliment.
I began roughing in the forms when Katniss asked "Hmmm. It's our last night in the city. What do you want to do before we visit Annie?"
The truth was I wanted to toss her over my shoulder and retreat to our room. Asking her to don the orange chemise in her trousseau again. Make love to her until we lose all strength in our limbs. Quench my thirst for her essence.
Our private time is limited since we opted to split our vacation between the city and the lower delta, to visit Annie and little Finn. Well, little now bigger Finn, since his dad was taken in the war we fought so valiantly in together.
Honestly, I'd be content to spend rest the week buried inside of her, making love to her with every flick of my tongue, twist of my wrist, and thrust of my hips. "Maybe a night parade? Or a stroll along the river?" I suggested.
She considered these possibilities and gazed out across the parlor, soaking in the ambiance.
I tipped my own glass to my mouth after I finished the small sketch. The sweet-tart combination bursts on my tongue and the liquor races through my veins as I take my last sip. I smacked my lips together.
I saw the subtle shift in her seat. I knew she was thinking what I was thinking.
We ambled out of the parlor and pawed at each other in the elevator. My palm strayed and slid across her ass. A brush of her hand down the front of my slacks. My cock twitched in response. The operator in the art deco lift had a knowing smile on her face when we exited the car. Once the elevator doors shut behind us, she cupped me through my pants. I nipped at her neck. She gripped me firmly and led me down the empty hallway, taking backwards steps toward our suite. I smirked at her and then down to the hold she had on me.
"I don't want to let go," she conceded.
We reached the door and she struggled first to fish the room key out of her purse and then to get it in the door knob. It dropped to the floor with her blind grappling.
She bent over to reach it and I grasped her hips from behind, rubbing myself through the cleft of her rump. She steadied herself against the door while I continued to glide over her skirt.
She ripped the door open and we stumbled inside. I leaned against the door to shut it and she flung her purse to the bed. She reached up to unpin her hat.
"No, leave it on." I commanded. "You can leave your hat on."
Katniss sunk to her knees before me, my back still wedged against the hotel room door and wall. She unbuttoned my pants and yanked them down my thighs, the material catching on my battle-won prosthesis. It didn't matter because her warm hands were diving into my cotton boxers, which were also tugged down without ceremony. And then her mouth was on me. Her tongue was still cool from the tea as it met the hot flesh of my cock.
There was no teasing as there had been the other night as she took in as much as she could. One of her hands fondled my sac while the other reached through my legs to grab my ass. I tried not to buck into her mouth as she sucked. My hands fought to find purchase, knowing I couldn't grab her head and risk mangling her hat. One palm flattened against the wall and the other crushing the door knob, I silently cursed my decision to not be able to run my fingers through her hair and help guide her to my orgasm – but that was part of the fun – letting Katniss be in control.
She started to moan around my cock and the vibrations nearly sent me to the brink. She pulled all the way off of me for just a beat before descending again with her tongue, swirling the tip and then
swabbing the ridge.
"Katniss, please," I begged.
She looked up again, one silver eye twinkling at me from under that hat and returned to my dick to finish me off. She had to have been nearly choking but her enthusiastic grip on my hips told me she was enjoying this as much as I was.
She moaned one final time while I was completely encased in her mouth and the familiar tingling in the same balls she was stroking crept up my spine. I squeezed my eyes shut to prolong the feeling just a bit longer. Suddenly color was bursting behind my eyelids as I released down her throat. She swallowed and suctioned until I was spent. She dotted kisses along my hips and reached down to grab my boxers and pants. She can be so primal and dutiful at the same time. She tucked my shirt and refastened my slacks.
"Now how about that parade?" she inquired as she reached for our souvenir masks.