Anna hadn't expected him to be so assertive, but she liked it all the same. She wasn't properly surprised at the strength of his need, it easily mirrored her own, but it pleased her that he seemed less fettered by the fears that held him in check the last go around.
Her hands searched out the textures of him. Eyes closed she was sensate again, her mind magnified the way he covered the length of her neck in slow, wet kisses, gentle nips. She felt the blooming of what was between them, electric and throbbing.
Once in the heat of summer they met in the darkness of the courtyard long after everyone had gone to bed. They had let things get away from them and he dipped his head to her breast, nipped and mouthed it through her nightdress and she'd cried out from the forbidden pleasure of it, had frightening them both to their senses.
Now. Now there was no need to stymie herself, to hold herself in check and she felt herself undulate against him, his touches, his trail of kisses stoked her desire.
"I've thought of us, like this, so many times," she whispered, her eyes still tightly shut. It made her heart pound to say it out loud. She wouldn't have been able to say it with her eyes open.
He hummed against her rib-cage, she could feel his smile on her skin. He painted her with the barest touches, eliciting breathy gasps, velvet moans. So often had she let her gaze linger on his hands as they polished buttons or shoes, mended tears, turn pages and every time she wondered what it would feel like for him to touch her. To feel his fingerprints burning into the skin of her belly or thigh, raising goose-flesh on her arms, pebbling her nipples.
Over the years, in the quiet of night she traced the places she imagined he'd touch her. But it hadn't come close to the sensations he evoked, couldn't compare to the look on his face. He was playing her, she realized, like an instrument, watching, feeling, listening, responding. His profession was anticipating needs and wants, reading nonverbal cues, and when he turned his skills on her it was all encompassing. His hands were large. They spanned her stomach, warmed the tender flesh there. His mouth was wet and open on her hip, his teeth and tongue marked a path down her thigh and she gasped when long, graceful fingers teased her most intimately.
Anna's pleasure left her in sighs and gasps, in soft hums and whining cries. And his mouth. He was insistent, and made satisfied noises into her skin when she bucked against him. She could feel herself clench around his fingers and he slowed but didn't stop, not for long. Again and again he wrung climax after climax from her, pushing her over the edge and letting her settle down only to tease her to heights again, until she was weeping and gasping, quaking from the pleasure of it. And all she could do was laugh, toes still curled, sheepish for losing herself so utterly and deliriously in this beautiful man who loved her.
When her trembling stilled, he rested his head on her hipbone and looked at her. She caressed him where her hands fell, sated for now, lazy, but wide awake. He watched her and sighed, smiled, his adoration warming her skin as much as the fire.
"Let me look at you, my beauty. Please. Just let me look at you," he said, in a quiet voice.
Where'd you go? Y'all ok? It got realllll quiet in here.