The air in the room grew thick with the scent of her arousal, a sweet musk that clung to the stillness between us. My gaze was drawn to the faint sheen of perspiration on her collarbone, catching the low light like liquid silk. A soft, involuntary gasp escaped her lips as my fingers traced a slow, deliberate path up the ide of her thigh, feeling the delicate tremor that answered my touch. The sound was a catalyst, breaking the last pretense of restraint as I lowered my mouth to the heated core of her. Her back arched sharply off the bed, a silent plea as my tongue found its rhythm, exploring the tender, swollen folds with a hunger that mirrored her own. Her hands tangled in my hair, not guiding but holding on, her breaths becoming ragged, broken whispers of my name. I could feel the tension coiling deep within her, a gathering storm of sensation that made her thighs tighten agat my ears. Then it broke; a choked cry tore from her throat as a warm, rushing wave of release soaked my chin and neck, her entire body convulsing in a powerful, shuddering climax. The aftermath was a heavy, breathless quiet, filled only by the sound of our racing hearts and the damp evidence of her pleasure cooling on my skin.
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