She stretched out on the bed. The evening sun shone into the window casting her in golden glow, a hint of heat on her body.
He ran his hand along the smooth skin from her knee to ankle. His lips followed the path he blazed, setting her on fire.
His fingers gripped the lace hem of her negligee and pushed it up, revealing a shock of hot pink silk that covered dewy curls and velvet folds.
He pressed a kiss against the slippery fabric. He used two fingers in slow circles to tease her into soaking the silk a deeper magenta.
Her fingers fisted the sheets, her hips danced as she tried for more friction or less.
Low moans escaped her throat, the wetter she got the higher pitched the sounds that resonated off the bedroom walls.
He sped his movements to match her frenzy. Never losing contact despite her thrashing. He smiled as the pleasure crested and she shuddered uncontrollably.
His lips feathered over hers, so faint, it was barely there. He brushed over her arms and legs and face in gentle strokes to soothe the fever.
“Just getting warmed up, love,” he whispered against her throat. “That was only the beginning.”