Their eyes meet. She’s biting her lip, mischief and some innocence radiating off her. She’s drowning in his white shirt, the buttons done up tight. With the candles she’s lit he can make out the pink lace covering the most intimate places of her body.
He’s a mixture of his cologne and rain, having come from outside. She arrived minutes prior, kissing his cheek goodbye at the formal gathering they’d gone to, whispering she’d be home waiting. He watched her leave, ball gown trailing behind her, heels in hand, hair flowing behind her.
He couldn’t help but chuckle to himself, champagne glass in hand, tipping it towards her when she turned her head to smile at him shyly.
He slides his coat off, loosening his toe. She sits at their bed, running her dainty hand over their silk sheets.
They’re eyes meet again, and this time he’s smirking. She’s waiting for him to come closer, practically begging him with the look in her eyes. With a swing of his foot he shuts their bedroom door, sitting before her on the bed, but inches away, just to irk her a little more.
He smirks as she leans towards him, refusing to make the first move. So he gives in, slowly gathering her body onto his lap, smirking as she lets out a faint giggle of triumph.
Her naked legs sink into the bed, wrapping firmly around him as he positions her. She smells like vanilla and rain, with a hint of champagne.
He’s easy with the buttons, exposing her pink lace. The shirt slides off her back and down her arms slowly, as he takes his time running his hands down her arms, as if he’s forgetten the feeling of her cotton like skin.
He lays her down, her body outstretched before him. She lets out a shaky breath before he can even reach out a hand to run down her neck, to her hips.
He’s slow and steady, as if her body is a tree trunk. Having to be felt for every soft, rough and detailed spot. It’s a simple thing, running his digits over half her body, but it’s got her flushed, squirming beneath his touch, clutching onto silk.
How she craves the feeling of him against her.
“Do something” she whispers, catching him off guard as he traces the outline of lace resting atop her hips. He chuckles, hovering above her, leaning down carefully, running his finger softly over her laced lotus, smirking when she gasps, emitting a sound of pleasure.
“That’s something” he whispers. “Hmmm” she responds, arching her neck, melting at the touch of his lips to her softest spot.
He feels her swift fingers working their way to remove the tie he wore. But he doesn’t stop doing something, anything, until she says so.
Outside it pours, but inside all he can hear is the beautiful sounds she makes. All he can feel is her skin against his.
All he cares for right now, is her.
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