She's shaking. Pleading. And I'm so hard I'm in pain.
I break away, both of us panting. I’m losing control. My restraint is fraying, the raw need to be inside her threatening to consume me.
I spin her back around to face me, and she falls back against the wall, weak and needy.
And I just look at her.
She's wearing the garter belt, stockings, and heels. And nothing else.
The way her hair is a mess, the way her cheeks are flushed, the way her lips are swollen and red, the way her pupils are blown with lust, her chest is heaving.
She's a goddess.
"God, you're gorgeous," I say, my voice rough with emotion.
She looks at me, her eyes dark, her lips parted.
I want to remember her like this forever.
I sweep her into my arms, one arm under her knees, the other behind her back, and she lets out a small squeak of surprise.
Her arms wrap around my neck, her head against my chest. I can feel her heart beating against mine.
I carry her to the bedroom, leaving her dress in a heap on the floor. The garter belt, stockings, and heels, however, stay on.
The bedroom is a mess of boxes and packing tape, but I don't see anyof it.
I only see her.
I lay her down on the bed gently, my eyes drinking her in. She looks up at me, her gaze soft and trusting.
I take her heels off and toss them aside, followed by the garter belt and stockings. Then I pull my shirt over my head.
My muscles ripple as I move. I'm in shape, I know it.
But the way she's looking at me... It makes me feel like a god.
Wanted.
Desired.
Needed.
I push my pants off, get on the bed, and crawl over her, caging her in with my body.
She’s not trapped, she’s where she wants to be. Where she belongs.
She wants this. Wants me.
I lower my head, and my lips find her collarbone. I trail kisses over her skin, tasting her, feeling her shudder under my touch. My hands roam her body, exploring, learning. Memorizing.
"I love the feel of your skin, the way you respond to me, the little sounds you make," I murmur. "I could spend days exploring you, mapping out every inch of your body with my hands and my tongue."
I lower my head, and my lips find her breast. I take her nipple into my mouth, my tongue swirling around the sensitive peak. She gasps, her back arching, her fingers tangling in my hair.
"And your breasts. They're perfect. The perfect size to fit in my hands, the perfect weight. I love the way they feel, the way they taste."
I spend a long time there, lavishing attention on them until she's writhing beneath me, her body a taut string of need.