I love making women blush and squirm. I love the way their breath catches when my fingers brush lightly across the back of their hand and my voice dips into a low murmur meant only for them. I love the slow drag of my nails through their hair before I tighten my grip and tilt their head back, baring the soft line of their throat to my lips, gentle at first, then sharp with teeth. I love binding their wrists, watching their body shift and writhe. I love the way their eyes go wide, stunned by the sound of my voice when I tell them exactly what I’m going to do to them. That sweet embarrassment that makes their bodies tremble when they hear the sounds they make. To see the proof in the way it blooms across their cheeks, deepens in their chest, and ripples through every inch of them. It makes me hungry. And to then see them obey when I order them to look at me when I lower myself between their legs, and take my time devouring them, licking their sweet cunt until they’re moaning, then screaming, there really is nothing more intoxicating. Well that is until I curl my fingers just right, drag my tongue until they’re soaked and sobbing, desperate to come in my mouth. But I don’t give it to them straight away. No, I love holding them there, trembling, clenching, begging me with every breath. I take them to the edge and pull them back again, and again, and again, until their throat is raw and their body is shaking. Only then do I let them fall. Only then do I let them come, clenching, convulsing, while I keep fucking them through every tremble.
