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I trace my fingertips back again just to see her shudder one more time, then hook them into the waistband of her panties. I only hesitate for a moment before beginning to move, pulling them down, down, ever so slowly, revealing a millimeter of skin at a time.
Her skin is so soft and warm under my fingertips, so perfect. I ghost those fingers down over her thighs and the panties come with them, revealing her pussy before me. Even in the dim light, I can see enough of her to know she is as gorgeous everywhere as I imagined. I drag the panties down to the floor, kissing the inside of her knees as I go, nudging her legs a little further apart after lifting one of her feet to disentangle the panties from around them.
Then I straighten again from my kneeling position, and the anticipation is so much I can barely keep myself steady. It’s not only myself that I’m thinking of, but her – and the thought of her pleasure turns me on so much it’s almost painful. I want to make her glow from within, want to feel the heat and desire taking over her body. I want to know that I’m the one to satisfy her every need.
I run my hands slowly up the sides of her legs again, seeing how she shudders one more time. She moves her legs, almost closing them again, but I shake my head as I look up at her and push them apart gently. She makes the tiniest sound in the back of her throat as my hands reach her hips, lifting her dress again, unveiling her once more. Like anticipation and nerves and uncertainty, but when I pause for a second to study her, she doesn’t tell me to stop. She doesn’t move to cover herself again.
I know she still wants this.
I move my hands first, tracing them lower and lower until finally I stop teasing and brush over the hot dampness of her slit, my fingers already coming away sticky. She whimpers again, this time a more throaty sound, of need and lust and readiness. I want to tell her to keep quiet, to avoid the risk of being found. But on the other hand, I want her to make all the noise she likes. I want to hear her, hear what I make her feel. How she can’t hold back.
I’m gentle and careful in my approach, landing kisses on the inside of her thighs and brushing my fingers across her heat, never too much at once, easing her into this gently. I know that all of this is new to her. I don’t want to overwhelm her – I want her to enjoy every stage, the whole slow build-up.
The longer we linger here, the more chance we’ll get caught. But that only adds to the excitement. And if we are, well – they won’t see much.
They won’t see much, because my head’s going to be under her skirt. I duck under it, letting it cover me, planting kisses closer and closer to her soaked pussy. Her hands clutch at my shoulders for support, even though she’s leaning back against the shelves.
And when my tongue flicks out to lap at her hole for the first time, those hands clench into fists in the fabric of my shirt.
I taste her then for the first time, take in the full fragrance of her, so sweet and enticing. Like I knew she would be. There’s no other thing in the world to compare it to, like a fruit that ripened only for me, never for anyone else. I lap at her again, stronger now, flicking my tongue back and forth across her bud until I find the spots that make her gasp for breath and hold me even tighter.
Her knees begin to bend, to buckle against me slightly, and I hear a shift of things moving behind her where she leans on them. I reach up to steady and brace her, holding her by the hips so she won’t fall, letting her lean on me too. I hear her breathing changing the more I work her over, from long breaths to short pants, from barely audible to loud enough I wonder if we’ll be heard. Every now and then she makes a quiet sound – “ah, ah,” in the back of her throat – that makes me redouble my efforts on those spots.
She’s wet beneath me, and not just because of the lubrication of my tongue. She’s trembling, everything in her whole body and mind tuned to this one point of pleasure, to the nerves that I know must be tingling and responding to everything I do. She’s so delicious, in so many different ways. The pressure of her hands on my shirt increases as the pleasure does, and I take pride in bringing her to the edge, holding her there, making her shake and gasp and moan.
