Gods, but her perfume was extraordinary.

Spice and Farah.

He ran his tongue along her neck as he ran his hand up her side.

She was struggling with the buttons on his waistcoat.

“Your clothes must go,” she demanded.

She was right.

They must.

Immediately.

He wanted his skin against hers.

He pushed up to his knees, straddling her.

She pushed up to her behind, and both of them went after the buttons on his vest, fingers bumping into the other’s.

He caught her hands.

Her hair tumbled all around her shoulders as she tipped her head to catch his eyes.

“How about I do the waistcoat and you do the shirt?” he suggested throatily.

She grinned and lifted her hands to the buttons on his shirt.

He saw her hands were trembling.

His hands were not.

His were impatient.

He had to stop to take off the vest, but he did not bother with all the buttons of his shirt. Once a few were loose, he pulled it over his head.

And felt his cock kick when her heated gaze fell on his chest.

“You are just…so beautiful,” she breathed before she pressed her lips to his skin, running her tongue along an indentation in the muscle there, on her way down.

It would be later when he both wished she did not do that, at the same time he was glad she did.

For he had thought, when this happened, when he had deemed she was ready, and that would be when it could be about naught but them, their touches, tastes, joining, with nothing bearing down on them, he had wanted to take his time in giving her pleasure.

But when she touched her tongue to his flesh, he heard an odd sound in the room, like a gentle breeze moving through leaves.

And he lost his mind.

True had no memory of the loss of his boots, his socks, his trousers. He did not know if he removed them, or she, or the both of them.

But he would never forget the first time he drew her nipple into his mouth, feeding it there with a sweep of his tongue, and the sound of her whimper, the pucker of her hardening flesh against his lips, when he suckled it deep.

He would also never forget doing much the same to the other.

He would further not forget her nails raking through his scalp and down his back.

And he would not forget the whisper of her lips on his throat or the moist trails of her tongue along the boxes of his stomach.

He would not forget the smell of her sex tingeing the air.

And he definitely would not forget the cast of the room turning green before he closed his eyes when he first tasted the nectar between her legs.

She writhed against him as he took her with his mouth, thus he wrapped her legs about his shoulders so she would be able to find purchase.