A fresh moan escaped her, her hands flying up to cover her mouth in pure mortification.
He dipped his head, his lips closing directly around her left nipple. He sucked—hard, deliberately, his tongue swirling and flicking against the sensitive bud with a practiced, ruthless expertise.
His hand continued kneading her right breast, the thick fingers rolling the heavy globe with firm, slow squeezes that made the pliant flesh jiggle and ripple.
All the while, the constant proximity to his body kept the chemical stimulation alive, ensuring her arousal never fully ebbed, keeping her trapped in the slow, logical spiral of surrender.
He prepared her thoroughly.
His mouth worshipped every inch of her heavy, neglected breasts, his hands explored every soft curve of her waist and hips, his fingers returned between her thighs, stroking and teasing and building the heat in her core back up to a screaming, urgent pitch.
