Held before him by her need, made still by his hot gaze as he followed her down, leaning in to kiss her mouth once more before he whispered, “Open to me.” Her body was stretching, arching within his hands, and she was aroused by the exquisite feeling of his dark, masculine hands stroking her pale, white breasts. She closed her eyes and gave herself over to him, to the white-hot pleasure that burned under her skin as his hands drew down the length of her body, from her collarbone, down across her aching breasts, along her belly and down the long run of her legs. Again and again, until she was moving beneath him, arching and twisting in anticipation, opening to him as the soft rush of sensation broke over her. He stirred the backs of his fingers along the inside of her thighs, and she felt her body draw taut and ready. Ready for the pleasure he fed her like a sweetmeat. And then his hands were on her, parting the folds of her flesh. Her skin prickled in anticipation as his work-roughened hands teased at the tight heat at the junction of her thighs.
