I kissed up her inner thigh, so close now that I could smell her arousal, musky and sweet and utterly intoxicating. The heat was incredible this close, and I could see the small damp patch forming on the blue lace, darkening the fabric. My heart hammered against my ribs as I pressed another kiss to her thigh, then another, each one bringing me incrementally closer to where she wanted—no, rather needed—me to be.
Sydney's thighs trembled on either side of my head, her hand tightening in my hair as I finally, finally, pressed my lips directly against the lace covering her sex. The fabric was already damp with her arousal, and the taste of her—even filtered through the material—made me dizzy with desire.
