He went, falling back onto the soft mattress, and she followed, straddling his hips with the confidence of a queen mounting her throne. The thin silk of her chemise was a maddening barrier. She leaned over him, her black hair falling around their faces like a curtain, her breasts swaying tantalizingly close to his mouth.
"You said you were tired," she murmured, lowering herself so her lips were again at his ear.
"So don't move. Let me do all the work."
And then she proceeded to make good on her promise.
Her mouth was everywhere—trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down his neck; across his collarbones; lapping his nipples until he gasped; and mapping a path down his torso. Her hands followed, kneading, stroking, exploring every inch of him with a focused intensity that left him trembling.
When she reached the waistband of his trousers, she made quick work of the laces, freeing his erection into the cool air of the room.
She didn't hesitate.
