he who hesitates is toast

Each small sound and restless motion of his burns into her chest. She chases them across his skin, down along the ladder of his ribs, pressing kisses to the slope of his stomach. She takes her time, memorizing his taste and feel, every inch of him, the softness of his skin, the way he reacts.

Sharon brushes her lips over the rise of bone at his hip, then coaxes his knees apart to set herself between them as she leans down to take him into her mouth.