I move lower, my lips pressing a trail of kisses down her stomach. As I do, I unclasp her bra and slide it off her, toss it into the darkness of the room.
The only spot of light on her is the warm light of the bedside lamp that was on when we came in.
She is a goddess in the spotlight.
I dip my tongue into her navel, and she giggles, a soft, breathless sound that is so unexpected, so endearing, that it makes my chest ache.
I look up at her.
Her eyes are wide, her lips parted in a small "o" of surprise.
She looks… shy.
This is a new reaction.
A new layer to this complex, fascinating woman.
Such a contrast to the woman angrily drilling her finger into my chest.
It makes me want more.
Experimentally, I dip my tongue in again.
Another giggle.
She squirms.
"Stop it," she whispers, pushing lightly at my head.
I smile against her skin.
"No," I murmur, and then I do it again, this time swirling my tongue around the sensitive skin.
She gasps, her back arching, the giggle dissolving into a moan.
I have found another one of her weak spots.
Another weapon in my arsenal to make her fall apart.
I will use it as I see fit.
But right now...
I continue my journey, my lips and tongue and teeth exploring the soft skin of her belly, the delicate curve of her hips. I nuzzle the sensitive skin of her inner thigh, and she moans, her legs falling open, an invitation I am not strong enough to refuse.
But that doesn't mean I can't play.
I place a trail of kisses and nips along the inside of her thigh, avoiding the one place she wants me most, my beard stubble leaving a faint red path in its wake.
Her hands grip the sheets, her knuckles white.
"Mario," she gasps, her hips lifting off the bed, a silent plea. "Please."
I look up at her from between her legs.
Her face is a mask of desperate desire, her hair plastered to her damp forehead.
I simply press her hips down to the bed and continue as I was.
