The world narrowed to the warm, yielding landscape presented so willingly before him, a silent offering of trust and desire. He traced the outer curves first, a slow, deliberate mapping with his thumbs, feeling the soft skin yield to his pressure. Leaning in, he pressed an open-mouthed kiss to the very crest, inhaling the faint, musky scent of her arousal. His tongue followed, a broad, wet stroke from the base of her spine down into the deep, shadowed valley, tasting the salt of her skin. A low moan escaped her as he delved deeper, his hands spreading her wider to grant him full access. He explored every hidden fold and secret contour with a languid, worshipful attention, his movements both tender and possessive. The sounds were intimate and wet, a private symphony of his devotion to this most intimate act. Her back arched, pushing herself more firmly agat his face, her fingers tangling in his hair to hold him there. He lost himself in the rhythm, in the primal, giving act of tasting her very essence, feeling her tremors build beneath his relentless, adoring mouth.
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