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herself time to savor my mouth like it’s finer than the

expensive wine I ordered us and richer than the richest

chocolate. Her fingers tangle in my hair, pulling at the twisted

knot I did this morning. It comes cascading down with a few

more gentle tugs, and then her fingertips are against my scalp,

and somehow that’s insanely erotic.

I explore her like she explores me, taking our time,

sweeping my tongue into her mouth, sliding it over hers in

slow strokes that make me burn straight down to my center.

My legs feel like they could give out completely.

Adley deepens the kiss again. Her legs bump up

against the bed, but she doesn’t fall back. Instead, her hands

sweep under my shirt, tearing it away with a renewed energy

that borders on frantic. I feel it too. I can’t wait to get her

clothes off. I can barely keep myself from clawing them away.

Her hand sweeps over my bare stomach. I arch into her,

smashing our hips together. I fumble with her shirt, tugging

and pulling. Finally, she helps me and it goes sailing over her

head.

Her bra is beautiful. It’s black lace, delicate, sensual,

feminine. There are little butterflies and flowers in that lace.

Like a field of wonder waiting just for me. Created just for me.

Her breasts don’t spill over the top, because the bra doesn’t

have underwire. They swell, creamy and flawless below, her

dark nipples begging me to take them, to touch them and taste

them.

I trace her nipple through the lace with my fingertip.

Her little gasp and the slight sway of her hips forward send hot

heat swirling between my thighs. My own nipples ache. My

bra is not fancy. Just plain white. It’s not sexy. Why didn’t I