You watch as he looks you over. The laugh in his eyes being replaced with carnal possession.
You had decided on your for-special-occasions-only 'What Katie Did-Coco' lingerie. An art-deco, vintage style set in black and white that showed your curves to their best advantage.
Just in case...
He obviously approved.
For a moment he just sits, tracing the seams that run down the back of your stockings. Then he exhales sharply and speaks, his voice gravelly with lust;
"You. Are in so much trouble."
Without warning, he sharply rises to his feet, strong arms gathering you up as he gets up. You wrap your legs round him and giggle into his ear as he sets off, at a swift pace.
Entering his bedroom, he tosses you, none too lightly down onto his soft bed. Another laugh leaves you as you impact. You watch him, smiling down at you and feel yourself losing control as he peels off his jumper.
His t-shirt goes with it, leaving him topless as he presses himself over you.
Oh God, Oh God, Oh God...
There's next to no time to memorise his body though, as his kisses begin to travel over your collarbones. Then they are marking your shoulders, pushing your bra straps down. You pull your arms out of them and drape them over your head.
His hand runs up your body, over your ribs, before gently nudging down the cup of your bra, releasing your nipple. As he takes it in his mouth, grazing his tongue there, your world blurs and you moan out his name.
He runs a hand under you, as you arch your back, mouth never wavering from your breast, and releases the catch of your bra. He flings it away carelessly and scoops you up against him, relishing the feeling of your skin against his own.
Your hands curl into his hair and let your head fall back, allowing yourself to succumb to the wonderful sensation of his mouth making your nipples hard. He dips his head lower, trailing his tongue down your tummy, ever, ever so close to coming into contact with...
And then he stops, kneeling up with a mischievous grin on his face and flicks open your suspender clips. One. By. One.
He feels like he might burst any second.
She's like a wet dream from his teenage years.
He slides each stocking off her, kissing his way down each newly bare leg. The suspender belt joins them on the floor and he exhales deeply at the sight of her.
Lay there, only in her knickers, chest rising and falling with her heavy breaths. Hands above her head, tangled in, both his bedsheets, and the glorious halo of curls that shone around her face.
I must be the luckiest man in London tonight...
His heart thumps erratically as she raises herself to her knees, mirroring him. She coyly meets his eyes, before leaning into him and letting her lips press the most fragile line of kisses along his jaw.
He lets his eyes close and concentrates on the tantalising feeling of her taking control.
She is just letting her tongue play along his earlobe when he feels the unmistakable tug of her hands at his belt. She pulls it from him, excruciatingly slowly and he has to fight the urge to pin her beneath him and fuck the living daylights out of her.
Let her take her time... let her... Oh, fuck... take... her... time...
He tries to think of something, anything to stop the lascivious animal within him from escaping, but then his fly is down and her hand is running along his length with unfathomable daintiness.
His eyes fly open, and she doesn't stand a chance.
You are flat against the bed before you can even register him moving.
He practically devours you, kissing you with a growl that emanates from deep, deep within him. You feel the sharp pinch at your hips as your knickers are, quite literally, ripped from your body and only have a moment to gather your senses before his fingertips are there, right there, generating a guttural moan from you, unfamiliar to even yourself.
His fingers are firm and urgent against your clit, swooping and skimming over it as he raises his head to watch you as you fall apart beneath him.
Your eyes roll back and you're lost, only vaguely hearing the groaning and panting that you almost don't register as coming from yourself. You grip the sheets above your head, desperately, as if trying to hold on to some small part of reality.
This man knows exactly what he's doing.
You cry out as his fingers slip into you, thumb moving to keep the pressure on your clit. This is too much, him curling inside you, twisting to discover those hidden places that make you bite against your bottom lip, make you push into him.
And then suddenly, before there's much more than a second to register it happening, you are tightening around his long fingers, grasping at his wrist to keep him precisely where he is;
Right there, Oh, JESUS, right there!
And you're groaning out his name, panting, whimpering under him as he murmurs your name in your ear, begging you to come for him.
"That's it, my darling girl, come for me... God, you're glorious."
You've fallen head-first into intoxicating oblivion, and it's all you ever dreamed of.