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Ava pinched her eyes so tightly shut her nose crinkled, like she was a child waiting for a surprise.

A small chuckle came from Elliot. He kissed her breast, drawing her nipple between his lips and circling his tongue around the point.

Ava bucked with delight but kept her eyes closed. ‘Better,’ he crooned against her skin.

The shifting willow vines cast shadows through her closed lids, undulations of dark and light dancing across her vision that created an exquisite prison.

Delicate as cloud, soft as steam, that gentle touch came again as Elliot snaked the feather over her.

It kissed her eyelids—and then he did the same.

His lips felt like a seal, a silent promise that if she kept them closed, he would not leave.

Each caress came as the softest torture.

With the feather’s tip, he tickled the point of her nipple, brisk brushes as delicate as gossamer, then circled her areola.

He dragged the feather to her other breast. Like a breath held too full for too long, pleasure built until it teased her every nerve, and when he licked her, she arched and cried out with sharp delight.

The tender agony continued. Over her torso, through the centre line of her stomach, circling her belly button, then lower…

Elliot grazed his lips over hers. His breath rasped.

Still in her dark confinement, Ava reached into the emptiness, fingers stretching and curling until she found the firmness of him.

Using her nails like talons, she gripped him, threaded her fingers through his hair, and held him close.

He kissed her more fully, open-mouthed. When he tipped his head, she followed, parting her lips at the touch of his tongue, and every quiet place inside her glowed to life as he grunted, deep and throaty.

‘You taste like summer,’ he growled against her mouth.

In a sigh, his lips were gone from hers.

That light stroke now traced an indulgent line lower, over her hip, along the line where her thigh met her body, just a tease over the curls between her legs.

Ava gasped and parted her legs as he painted a decadent swirl over her skin.

The intensity of his harsh breaths collided with the soft sweep of the feather, from the top of her thighs to the depression above her knees.

Ava arched her back, desperate for some greater sensation to break the ache.

Raw energy pulsed through her, all of it so incessant that she could no longer exhale or breathe, could only gulp in air and force it out with a moan.

‘Please.’ Ava spread wider. ‘Touch me more.’

‘Here?’ Again, the feather, so tantalising, so close. Running over her thighs, trailing over her sex. She opened more to him, to the sunshine and cool air, to the rumble of his groan, let all of it burrow underneath her skin. All of it but the relief of his touch.

‘Please, Elliot.’ It took every last ounce of her control now to keep her eyes closed. ‘Don’t make me beg.’

‘But I want you to beg.’ He kissed her just above her knees and nipped the skin with his teeth. ‘I want you to share all your wicked thoughts with me.’

‘I don’t have wicked thoughts. You said as much.’

His low laugh morphed into a growl. ‘Then I will share one of mine with you. Open your eyes. Watch me.’

The golden afternoon light left everything washed out and white, until her eyes adjusted, softening the glare.

First his silhouette against the shifting leaves came into focus, then his face.

He rested one hand on her knee, still holding his torturous feather, twisting it between his thumb and forefinger.

Obscene man that he was, he still had only a loosened tie and a few buttons undone, while she lay there completely exposed.

Elliot tucked the feather into the pocket of his waistcoat.

He bent to kiss the inside of her thigh, just above her knees.

Higher he moved, kissing, nipping, never taking his eyes from hers.

His gaze felt too raw. His stubble grazed her, and the cuff of his shirt rubbed against her own bare skin.

He hitched her legs up, dragged her closer and—still piercing her with his fire blue eyes—lowered his mouth to her sex.

The feather had been a torture. His tongue?

Exquisite. Ava bucked at the first delicate lick and suckle, an awkward combination of a groan and a gasp escaping her lips.

His eyes fluttered closed, and a vibrating moan echoed through her nerves.

Every part of her ached with pleasure as he gripped her thighs tighter, pulled her closer, and flicked his tongue along her slit, dipping inside her, lapping at all the small parts that exploded with throbbing bliss.

The soft pressure of his teeth, the sweep of his tongue, the caress of his lips…

they pounded and crashed through her like wild currents of wind, lifting her higher and higher.

‘Watch me,’ he ordered, and with the next flick of his tongue, she came undone.

As if she had never felt pain or sadness or any other emotion in her life, a torrent of joy, life, and flawless pleasure engulfed Ava.

She clutched at the ground, dirt raw beneath her nails, twisted and sobbed as Elliot moaned into her, his stare the only thread she could hang on to.

When she hooked a knee over his shoulder, he pushed even deeper, and Ava collapsed with one last shudder.

Elliot teased and laved until she could not take any more, until his tongue felt so good it hurt.

She caught his cheek and nudged him away.

He rested his head against her thigh, and with a kiss, wrung the last shred of bliss from her.

‘That felt so good, I thought I might die,’ she marvelled between heavy breaths.

He laughed. ‘The French call it the little death. Did you know that?’

‘How could I possibly know that?’

He shrugged. Ava pushed a curl back from his sweaty forehead and wiped the glistening wetness from his chin. He caught her thumb and nipped the pad, still panting. Gave her a drowsy-eyed, lethargic grin.

‘I love you,’ she said.