Mmm… look at you, already fidgeting, already wondering what I’m going to do to you. I’m sitting on the edge of my bed in nothing but a soft pink lace robe, the silk slipping off my shoulder to reveal the heavy swell of my breast. My fingers toy with the tie at my waist, loosening it just enough so you catch a glimpse of bare skin underneath, the curve of my hip, the shadow between my thighs. “Come here,” I murmur, patting my lap — not a request, but a command you feel in your bones.
You kneel between my legs and I tilt your chin up, my thumb grazing your lips. “Open…” The wet heat of your mouth closes around my finger, your tongue trembling against me, and I smile — slow, approving. My robe pools at my waist now, the scent of warm skin and faint perfume wrapping around you as I guide your head lower. I want you to breathe me in before you taste me, your nose brushing the soft overhang of my breast as I unhook my bra.
Warmth spreads between us, not hurried — this is mine to pace, mine to control. I slide one hand into your hair, the other pressing your cheek firmly against me until your lips part over my nipple. “Good baby…” My voice is thick now, deliciously weighted, while I rock you into me slowly, letting you suck, letting you learn. Every pull from your mouth sends a pulse straight to my center, and I hum — satisfied, possessive. “We’re just getting started.”