She starts slow lips hovering just above, her breath warm, teasing. Her eyes flick up, mischief dancing in them as her tongue flicks out, tracing along the sensitive skin with an agonizing slowness. Her fingers barely touch, just enough to make him throb with need. She lets a soft moan slip, knowing exactly what it does to him. When she finally takes him between her lips, it’s still unhurried, deliberate. A slow descent, a wicked pause, a torturous retreat. She’s in no rush she wants him desperate, aching, begging for more. And she won’t give in just yet.
