A wave of something that feels like a lot more than affection washes over me.
Her eyes meet mine, and I see the shift in them.
She's back in the present. She's back with me.
She lowers her head and kisses my stomach, just above my wound.
Then she moves lower.
Her hands slide down my sides as her tongue dips into my navel, and I have to bite back a curse.
My hips lift off the bed, a silent, desperate plea.
She laughs, a soft, husky sound that goes straight to my cock.
"So impatient," she teases, her lips brushing against my skin.
I am. God, I am.
I want her mouth on me. I want it more than I have ever wanted anything.
She seems to understand this, but it doesn't make her move any faster.
She continues her slow and thorough exploration with soft, open-mouthed kisses. Her hands trace my hip bones, her tongue following the line of my obliques.
She's making me wait.
Making me want.
It's exquisite torture.
My abs clench as her lips brush over them.
My control is hanging by a thread.
She kisses my hips and nibbles for just a moment, her eyes flashing up to meet mine as she does it. I am mesmerized. My whole body is thrumming with need for her. I can't remember ever feeling like this with another woman.
Then she shifts, and my heart stops.
Her hair falls like a curtain around my hips, the soft strands tickling my thighs. Her breath is a warm puff of air against my length, and a shudder runs through me.
I am completely at her mercy.
And I find that I do not mind it one bit.
Her gaze is fixed on my cock.
She seems fascinated.
Slowly, she reaches out and runs a single finger from my base to my tip.
I suck in a sharp breath.
Her touch is a spark on a trail of gasoline.
My whole body tenses, every muscle coiled tight and ready to snap.
She looks up at me again, her eyes dark and questioning.
