Licked the column of my throat. He held the weight of my breast in his big palm. Unfastened my bra with a snick, drew it down my arms, and flung it away.
I watched, heart thundering against his lips as he licked a lazy trail between my breasts. His broad shoulders bulged and flexed as he shifted down my body, his hands deft as he worked my pants down my legs until they were gone and my panties along with them. I was arrested by the sight of his big fingers hooked in the delicate lace, the tan of his skin against the pale of mine.
One of those hands splayed across the inside of my thigh to open me up. Then the other—anticipation locked my lungs. His eyes were down, regarding my body with delicate heat, every place his gaze brushed licking fire on my skin.
I couldn’t seem to breathe. The fire had consumed all the air.
His hair hung around his face, shrouding him in the slightest of shadows, darkening his already dark features.
Exposed and unafraid, I lay before him, sacred and invulnerable. He settled between my legs, spread wide to accommodate the breadth of his chest. His arms hooked outside my thighs, the motion squeezing my thighs in the vise of his arms, my body locked down by nothing more than his biceps and forearms. I shifted impatiently against his hold, knowing it would do no good, begging him to do what he intended all the same.
He obliged. His lips descended, his breath hot against the edge of me, my own breath still with anticipation. And he closed his eyes just as his tongue brushed its silken tip to my center.
A gasp of pleasure shot my lungs open, a sigh eased them again, the relief of contact mingling with the possession of his mouth. My hands slipped into his glossy black hair, fingers raking through the thick locks as I watched him, felt his tongue trace the ridges and valleys of my flesh, taking his time with the swollen tip of me that craved his attention so desperately.
My awareness slipped, my body no longer under my control. But my hips shifted and bucked, seeking pressure, needing his weight on me. I wanted him in a way that his lips and tongue, though expert, could not provide.
I whispered his name, twisted my fingers in his hair, but he didn’t stop. Laid a hand on his shoulder, lifting my torso to reach him, to pull him, to beg him without words to come to me.
For a moment, he didn’t heed, though I knew he’d heard. So with a restive shift of my hips, I unlatched him.
His eyes were molten, ebony shot with crimson, his lips glistening with my sex. I wanted to taste them.
So I did.
Swollen and lush were his sensual lips, slick with the salty taste of my body. My arms locked around his neck, and when I shifted my weight to lie back, he let me take him with me, one hand planted in the bed, the other removing his pants.
He laid his glorious weight on me, the crush of his body stealing my senses. His hips rested between my legs, his torso so much longer than mine that, even with that misalignment of our hips, my face was tilted up to carry on kissing him. I was surrounded by him, held captive by his body. His arms caged me. His broad chest was my shelter. His lips occupied my heart.
My hips shifted, cradling his hard length in the cleft of my body, and his hips answered every flex with one of their own in opposite direction and equal force.
With a hard stroke, his body lifted from mine, the cold air cutting between us.
I mewled at the loss, admiring the long stretch of his body as he reached for the nightstand, the rippling muscles over his ribs, the heavy curves of his chest. He knelt between my legs, the thick cords of his thighs like pillars, his lids heavy, eyes hooded. The rasp of his hands rubbing together, the shine of the lube on his skin. The sight of his cock filling his big hand, the pink tip appearing and disappearing in his fist.
I rose again, unable to keep watching without touching him. His lips met mine, my hands covered his, then replaced them as he braced himself, lowered us. But I didn’t let him go—instead, I brought the tip of his crown to the threshold of my body, shifted