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He’d give her whatever she desired. He’d lay his heart at her feet.
That was a good place to start. Kneel down on the carpet and pull her forward on the bed until she was in the right position.
Pull up her skirts, nuzzle beneath them...
“West...” Such exquisite music. His name on her lips.
He worked his tongue over her, inside her, teasing and licking.
She made him think impossible things.
She was his new addiction. His new compulsion.
He moved over her on the bed, lavishing attention on her breasts, the soft skin of her neck, and her full lips.
When her dimples appeared his heart burst into song. And when she touched him, it was like a bolt of the finest cobweb-thin silk rolled out and poured over him, enveloping his senses: scent of warm, sweet woman, sound of her lilting sighs.
The sheen of sweat on her brow, between her breasts. Tasting her skin slowly, drawing out this perfect pleasure.
He undid her gown and slid it off her body. Her corset, chemise, and stockings came next, until she was naked underneath him.
Take her waist between his palms, lift her hips, lift her soft belly to his questing tongue.
Fingers supporting her back, thumbs lightly brushing the sides of her belly. Kiss her navel, tongue pressing. Slide his hands under her back, down the ridges of her spine, until he cupped her bottom with his hands. Part her thighs with his tongue.
She knows the way of pleasure now. She’s not so shy, not so hesitant. She opens for him while he angles her hips upward. Lick the outer edges softly, building her anticipation, don’t just get right to it, don’t be too greedy, too abrupt.
Taste her. Salt sweet. Silk smooth and delicious.
Her body so different than his, requiring more finesse, requiring him to listen, to respond, make small adjustments.
There was nothing else to do, nowhere else to be, but between her thighs. Loving her with his tongue, his lips and, now, one of his fingers because he had to feel her heat, had to feel her clench around some part of him.
Two fingers now, moving back and upward in a fluttering motion, searching for the place that made her sighs more urgent.
His tongue stroking in concert with the little rolling movements she made with her hips, urging him on. Her fingers clutched his hair, digging into his scalp, none too gently, and he knew she was close. Her stomach muscles tightened, she tensed, she was so silent... holding her breath.
He focused entirely on her pleasure, he would never stop, not until she came.
He stroked with his tongue, moving his fingers inside her, and finally . . . finally she shuddered,tensed, and came undone. Her hips bucked beneath him and she cried his name.
“West! My goodness. That’s... oh. My.”
The most beautiful music in the world, her little moans and the stuttered rhythm of her breathing.
He withdrew his fingers and licked them, watching her, watching him. “You taste so good.”
She lowered her head but continued to watch.
“Was that enough, my wicked wallflower?”
“Mmm.” She stretched like a cat, her eyes closed, hair tumbling in waves around her shoulders, over her breasts. “Not nearly enough.”
Her eyes opened and the new-fern green pierced his heart.
Life begins with a woman with green eyes that see into my soul and a smile that makes me want to be a better man.
She tugged at his shirt and attempted, inexpertly, to open his trousers.
