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As the music began to pour from the small speakers, Henry straightened and offered his hand. “Dance with me.”
Before she even thought about it, she was sliding her palm into his. Henry drew her close. Her belly pressed to his hip, her breasts to his broad, hard chest. One of his muscled thighs slid between hers. Looking up into his smoldering gaze, their lips were mere inches apart.
He began to move them slowly through a simple eight-count, without embellishment, until they fell into a rhythm. Staring into the dark depths of his eyes, she paid only the most minimal attention to the movement of her feet. These steps were second nature to her, and with Henry they seemed even more natural.
She inhaled sharply as he swept her right foot and then urged her into some backward ochos. He tilted her into a side volcado as she swung her right leg into a back boleo and then forward enganche. He lifted her then, dragging the toe of her shoe across the dusty wood floor as he moved several quick steps backward. When he released his hold, Sophie slid down his body. His thigh pressed against the sensitive mound of her pussy.
He slid around her in a media luna, the frame of his embrace strong as he turned her to face him. The dazzling view spun in Sophie’s peripheral vision. It wasn’t nearly as gorgeous as the sight of Henry’s face. Passion chiseled his handsome features into something so potent and sharp it cut her straight to the quick. Desire ran through her veins every bit as much as blood.
The song ended abruptly, as lost as they were in each other. His breath was certainly more ragged than the simple dance called for. He lowered his head, and Sophie met him halfway, lips moist and parted. The glide of his tongue against hers was like the dance, simple and sensual and heart-pounding.
It went on for a long time, deep and sweet. Shivers of sensation cascaded over her skin, and her pussy pulsed in time with her heart. Sophie felt wet and ripe between her legs. She clung to him as he raised his head. “How about some wine?”
She blinked, dazed. “Henry, it’s ten in the morning.”
“Call it an early lunch.” He sat, stretching his legs out and crossing his ankles as he unpacked several containers from the bag. There was fruit, cheese and a bottle of wine. He had prepared all this while she was getting ready. Sophie relented, sprawling in the warm sunlight pouring through the windows.
She closed her eyes, leaned back on her hands, and turned her face up to it as Henry used a corkscrew to pop the bottle of wine open. She heard the glug as he poured them each a glass of red wine. The scent of spice, chocolate, and ripe blackberries wafted up to her nose, mingling with the light smell of plaster and dust.
The wood floor beneath the blanket was warm from the sun. Sophie could feel it seeping through the thin, soft fabric under her fingers. Something cold touched her lips. She jumped, eyes flying open. Henry grinned at her, holding a chilled raspberry up for her. She smiled and opened her mouth so he could place the tart, sweet berry on her tongue.
“Mmm.” She licked her lips. “I think raspberries are my favorite berry.”
Henry tossed a blueberry into his mouth. “Really? I think most people would say strawberry.”
“Is that your favorite?” Sophie sipped her wine. Henry cocked his head.
“I don’t know if I’ve ever thought about it before.”
Sophie picked one each of the blueberries, raspberries, and strawberries spread out on the blanket in their respective containers. “Let’s do a taste test. Open up.”
Henry obliged. She popped the blueberry in first, and then, after he had chewed and swallowed, the strawberry. And then his lips were pressed against hers.
His tongue pressed up against her mouth, seeking entrance. He explored her cheeks and the line of her teeth, even slid along her soft palate before coiling around her tongue and sucking gently.
When he drew back, Sophie was panting. He licked his own lips. “No, you’re right. Raspberry is the best.” She held up her hand, now covered in the juices of the berry he had neglected to taste. “Any napkins in that bag?”
He shook his head, turned her hand palm up, and lowered his head. She realized his intent a moment before his tongue came out to slide across her palm, lapping the berry pulp from her hand. One by one, he sucked each juice covered digit into his warm mouth and gently licked it clean.
Sophie’s breath stuttered out of her. Each caress of his tongue, each time his lips slid along her skin, she remembered the sensation elsewhere on her body.
“Henry,” she moaned.
When her hand was clean, he trailed his mouth up to her wrist all the way to her neck. His left arm pressed along her right, the soft hair of his forearm rubbing deliciously against her skin. The heavy silk of his hair brushed her throat.
He released her arm and reached for the wide strap of the dress, dragging it down to her elbow, along with the bra strap beneath. His mouth slid across her collarbone, teeth scraping gently as he lowered his head to run his tongue over the upper curve of her left breast, bared nearly to the stiff peak of her nipple. He tugged the bra and dress down further, trapping her arm against her side but uncovering her breast completely.
Confined as she was by the dress, she could only just brush her fingertips along the side of his face. The slight rasp of his stubble against her sensitive fingers made her shiver.
“Oh, god,” she murmured brokenly, arching her back to press herself closer to his touch.
Henry’s shoulders heaved with his own ragged breaths, and his tongue plunged into her mouth. He had begun playfully and sensually, but this had become something else. There was an edge of intensity in his kisses and caresses now. His practiced touch was rougher and more insistent.
She cried out into his mouth as his right hand snaked beneath the skirt of her dress. His thick fingers brushed across her aching mound, briefly cupping her through the wet lace of her panties. Sophie rolled her hips, pressing her pussy into his palm.
He squeezed her ripe flesh, drawing a gasp from her lips. “Dio! Sophie, I have to...” His fingers curled around the thin strap of her panties, twisting the delicate fabric. She cried out as the material bit into her skin, tightening over her slick sex. The small pain only lasted a moment as the flimsy cloth gave way and he ripped it aside.
The rough drag of the lace over her engorged clit was a burst of pain and pleasure that had Sophie writhing beneath him. Her fingers grazed his t-shirt and curled into the soft cotton, pulling him to her. The purr of his zipper was loud in the bright, empty room.
