Atop the ruffled bed sheets of such a pale and unusual green, the dog-eared pilllows swelling with curved indents, a man, who, still lolling in the blanketing rays of sleep, could not perceive the eyes of his wife, searing with concentration with an occasional wash of tenderness as she relaxed her head to a tilt to softly curve her pencil into the air over the contours and sweeps of Edward's face, slipping her propped up feet further onto the mattress as the sound of her pencil continued its songs of variation, sometimes scratching jaggedly, other times stroking her sketchpad paper with a spraying sound both gentle and monotonous.
She would breathe an inward chortle to herself when the curves of his body deepen as he stretched, the sun rather beautifully slipping along them, emphasising the portions of him that she often took great pleasure in admiring.
Her mind flashed with reminiscence of the night before, of when they had both been getting ready for bed, as her nightgown swished down around her, she had turned to snake her vision up his thighs, powerful, muscular, but with an elegance that, in its new availability to her as her husband, tinted his bronze skin with vulnerability.
Her gaze travelled to his eyes, which were fixed sharply on hers. She smiled as she realised that he was fully aware of her heated stare, devoid of shame or embarrassment.
"Do you like what you see, Jane?"
His voice was dripping in a husky swirl of dark pleasure.
Slowly turning his body to her, he pasted his hands to his hips, inching them up to gradually slip his shirt open, stopping fleetingly at his trouser button to tease it only slightly out of its notch, and then leaving it there, begging to be fully slid free.
Never taking her eyes off of his body as it moved purposefully, slowly, his hips swaying in hypnotic, sultry circles, Jane watched as he submitted instinctively to the dark intoxicating nature of her sexuality.
He eased his shirt past his shoulders, masterfully teasing it downward, until he it dropped softly to the floor, both hands stretched behind his back returned again to a caress of his torso, sculpting each muscle and rise as one hand swam up his body to scrape itself under a gush of thick black hair, drawing his head back forcefully and emitting a low, breathless groan as his other hand drifted underneath the waistband of his trouser to gently and cleanly pop his trouser button free, edging them down his waist to provide her with a fleeting glimpse of the sensual dips of his pelvis which bordered his sex.
"Well Jane?" he sighed, rising his head forward to monitor her reactions.
She said nothing. She stood still, heaving with heavy, growling breaths. Her lips twitched as she flashed her attention to his mouth. Full, curving outward with a pouting, sweet pink tint, a tiny dot of black at the centre which silently called to her that they would open easily and fully at her word.
Jane felt her body and mind strain to maintain their intended atmosphere of casual, romantic sweetness as the demand to devour him whole with her body tried to engulf her diffusedly as she stepped close to him, her hand rose, aiming to caress his face, but instead was drawn instinctively, inevitably to his lips.
Her breaths were edging closer and closer to snarls as they gusted through gritted teeth as she felt her fingertips sink slightly onto the soft moistness of his mouth, until she felt them effortlessly ply beneath her touch to have them dip inside him and swim in his scalding heat. "I'll open for you, Jane" she felt his words, low and moaning, whip past her fingers.
The last dregs of self-control dissolving within the rush of desire made her impulsively and forcefully slam her body into his, snatching his earlobe in her teeth and chewing lightly as she whispered deeply and demandingly "get on your knees".
Jane was wafted out of this glorious memory as she saw Edward stir, his head grind against the pillow as his eyes peered open to set over her, tracing the top of her toes to her legs, and finally to her face, drifting momentarily over the sketchbook and pencil resting in her hold. He grinned with an almost boyish mischief.
"Well Jane" he said, adopting the same teasing tone that he had soaked his voice in the night before
"Do you like what you see?".
In the blankets of morning light, the relaxed remnants of sleep still bathing in his look, she consumed him with a look of tender, protective adoration
"I love it"