His hands, with clever pianist’s fingers, running along her thigh, skating along her sides and making her shudder, pressing against her stomach and down to her clit, pressing against her. One hand in her hair and pulling her head back, exposing her throat. His tongue running along her pulse and his teeth grazing her neck. The feel of his chest against her back.
Against a wall, on a bed, in the chair; tied up, whipped or vanilla; whenever she had a spare moment to drift, he was there, lurking at the edges.
All Day Long I Dream About Sex
She couldn’t get him out of her head.
His hands, with clever pianist’s fingers, running along her thigh, skating along her sides and making her shudder, pressing against her stomach and down to her clit, pressing against her. One hand in her hair and pulling her head back, exposing her throat. His tongue running along her pulse and his teeth grazing her neck. The feel of his chest against her back.
Against a wall, on a bed, in the chair; tied up, whipped or vanilla; whenever she had a spare moment to drift, he was there, lurking at the edges.