“And kissing?” I take her hips in my hands, brushing my lips over hers, forcing her to give. To bend. “Who gets to kiss you?”
“Only you,” she whispers, her lips chasing mine until I sever the connection between us when I pull back. Her eyes seem suddenly so solemn, but maybe I only see what she wants me to see. “It takes courage to be vulnerable.” My hand seems to lift of its own accord, the backs of my fingers stroking down her neck.
“Are you talking about you or me?” A smile catches at the corner of her mouth. A second later, it’s gone.
“The strengths of reactions, of feelings can be frightening.”
“I know. I’ve never wanted anyone like I want you.” She shakes her head almost ruefully.
“That’s something, at least.”
“But I think you might be too much for me.” She angles her glance away.
“Amelia.” I say her name the way she likes to hear it. Part chastisement, part wonder. “You took meso, so well.” My hand ghosts down her front, snagging on the first of the fastened buttons before my finger and thumb make quick work of it.
“What are you doing?” she asks nervously.
“I would’ve thought that was obvious.” Another button, and again. “But in case it’s not, I’m about to remind you why you’ll only come for me.” Parting the sides of the shirt a little wider, I press my lips to the warm skin of her breastbone. “You can tell me to stop, and I will.”
My gaze lifts, her eyes turning languid, her hands trembling as they fold under the edge of the tabletop.
“Don’t stop. Please.”
With each button, a little more skin is exposed, my lips moving incrementally, tasting her dips and valleys, worshipping her body. The morning sun turns her hair golden, washing her skin in its rays as I drag the sides of my shirt over her hardening nipples.
“You look like you’re made of sunshine.” Her skin dappled by gold, her fine hairs on her arms shimmering.
“I feel kind of exposed.” Her eyes slide to the wall of windows behind me.
“No one can see you from up here,” I whisper, tightening my hands on the cotton to slide it across and back, letting her soak in my attentions. Revel in the sensations. Such secrets I could show her, layers of sensuality she could barely guess.
“No one but you.”
“As it should be. Your body is mine when it’s before me.”
The sound she makes is almost plaintive as I slide my hands under the shirt, curling them once more around her hips. My thumbs caress the protrusion of bones there. I want to bend her until she feels hollow. Until she’s weeping with need to be filled. I reach behind her, and drag a container of fruit closer. Selecting a wedge of mango, I lift it to my mouth. Bright orange and pulpy, the juice drips down my fingers.
“This reminds me of something,” I murmur, sliding it between my lips.
“Of what?” She swallows thickly, prompting me to run my fingers over her bottom lip. Her tongue darts out, licking the sticky juice. I take the opportunity to slide my fingers inside her hot, wet mouth.
“You tell me.” She doesn’t need the instruction, already swirling her tongue.
Selecting another piece, I slide the sticky flesh between her breasts, following it with my tongue.
“Are you going to eat it or torment me?” It doesn’t sound at all like a complaint.
“Eat it or eat you, should be the question.”
She releases a delicate moan as I glide the fruit around one of her nipples. “It’s so chilly,” she whimpers, her body an elegant arc at the contact.
“Not for long.” Bending my head, I suck her wet nipple into my mouth. I make a rough sound of appreciation as I draw on the tight bud, feeling it stiffen against my tongue. Soft swipes and wicked flicks, my actions are oh-so controlled until she’s panting, wordless beneath me.
“Tasty.” The word slides into a groan as I move to her other breast, repeating the process until her hands are in my hair and she’s convulsing under me, dry fucking my thigh.
“You eat it.” I bring what’s left of the wedge to her mouth, painting the juice across her lips, teasing her with it. “Do you want it?” She makes to bite as I move it back.
“Yes.” One hand lifts to capture my wrist. “I want it.”
