“He spread her wide and she closed her eyes at the touch, lewd and lascivious and lovely, at once thankful for the darkness and quite desperate for the light. "Did you touch yourself?"

She shook her head, her hands searching for him. Finding his soft hair. "No." He stopped again and her fingers curled against him. "It's true. I didn't. But ..."

He blew softly on the exposed center of her. "But?"

She inhaled, the breath ragged and not enough, and though it was he who knelt, it was she who confessed. "But I wanted to."

He rewarded her honesty with his mouth, consuming her like fire, his tongue stroking in long, slow licks, curling in a slick promise at the hard center of her pleasure, and she lifted her hips to meet his remarkable mouth, not caring that the action could be called nothing but wanton. She did want. She needed.”