She lays on the bed, the front of her body pushing hard against the whiteness of a sheet, her legs outstretched.
A finger passes along her upturned foot, brushing along the arch, it flicks and curls. His hand trails the length of her leg, tracing the carved silhouette of each and every muscle. His lips sink onto her skin, teeth scraping at her flesh.
Her hair is pulled away from her neck and the cool, damp of his tongue is felt. She is spun onto her back, her hands pull at the sheets as his mouth disappears between her thighs.
A mass of knotted hair tosses from one side to the other and even while she tries to stay silent, fleeting moans escape her bitten lips.
She claws at his hair and uses all her strength to pull him onto her.
Nails redden his flesh, hands bruise her skin. Sometimes slow, sometimes fast, each time is better than the last.
The sheets are wet,there's no air in the room. All she can smell is him. Him and sex....and she loves it.