His fingers are magic, his lips are fire and the soft caress of his voice against my ear is an enchanting opus, capturing my body and soul.
"Duke," His name trails out of my mouth like a prayer.
An unholy prayer.
His lips glide down my neck, sucking, biting, and then sucking again. At the same time his fingers are stroking my arm, following a certain pattern that makes me want to touch him too.
The way his fingers caress and stroke me, I'm having this desire to do the same. To feel the hardness of his muscles with my fingers, to count the lines on his body and trace the curves there too.
"Ahh—" My knees buckle and my lashes flutter consistently as his tongue begins to circulate around my nipple. My hold on his hair tightens as he continues to trace the areola of one breast with his tongue while squeezing the other in his hand.
