he who hesitates is toast

It's her turn to tease him. She nudges his knees apart so she can come stand between them, then runs a hand into his hair, raking all five fingers back from forehead to the back of his skull before she grips and tugs his head gently back, then leans down to kiss him. Her free hand traces down along the curve of his neck and shoulder, and she presses another kiss to his mouth, to his cheek, his ear, and begins moving slowly down along the cord of muscle in his neck before gently pulling his head back enough for her to kiss along his throat.

"Lean back, baby," she murmurs into his skin, and slides her fingers from his hair to paint both hands down his chest and torso as she dots worshipping kisses along his collarbone, his breastbone. She tucks her fingers into the waistband of his pants and coaxes his hips up so she can slide them and his underwear down and off, then kneels to slip his feet through.

There's a brief, heated glance she shoots up at him, before pressing her mouth carefully to the inside of his knee, running her hands up the outsides of his thighs.