kvmre.blogg.se

With a trembling hand, he reached down to stroke her hair. He endured perhaps a minute of this exploration before his thighs went rigid.

Swirling that shy, pink, clever tongue around the crown of his erection. A cool, gentle flutter just at the tip of his cock.

Every sweet, slow stroke of her hand tugged him closer to release.Īnd then. He squeezed his eyes shut to savor the sensation. He fell back against the bed, staring up at the ceiling. With her first stroke, bright light flashed through his brain, blanking it. Her hand curled around his staff, catching him in a proper grip. Her fingertip made a long, slow pass up the underside of his shaft, circling the sensitive crown. “Well, we can’t have that.”Īt last, she touched him. “Oh.” She bit her lip with abashed regret. As long as it’s some other time.” His voice was shaking. The same way she might stare at the claw of a lobster or the wing of a butterfly. She was staring at the rude curve of his cock, artistic fascination plain on her face. What was the matter now?Īpparently nothing was the matter. His eyes closed in anticipation of her touch.Īfter a pause that seemed to last hours, he opened his eyes and glanced down at her.

She drew the bed linens downward, exposing his entire body to the room’s chilly air. He bent his uninjured leg at the knee, pulling it to the side to give her more space. She gathered her skirts in one hand, settling between his legs. Her eyes had that glazed look of pleasure, and her cheeks were flushed pink.