He ran his hands down her arms, his fingertips curving inward when he reached her wrists caressing the more sensitive skin there for a brief second before finishing the movement by taking her hands; threading his fingers through hers. Walking backwards and never breaking his eye contact with her he led them into the bedroom. Her expression was awestruck when they crossed the threshold; he had spent the last few hours getting the room ready for their evening. Every available surface held a candle, lit and glowing, a few he had placed small mirrors behind so that they threw glittering reflections across the room. Vases and cups, mason jars and bowls, basically any container in his house that could hold water held some sort of flower. He had spent the time to hand pick the blossoms, and out of them all there was only one rose. Pure white, the most perfect one he could find, it was laid out on the pillow.
He stepped into her once they were in the room. Her arms came around his neck and he wrapped his around her waist, when their lips met the passion between them crackled in the air. Gradually the tenure of the kiss changed and though none of the heat or passion left they slowed their pace and began to explore each other. His hands at her waist had found bare skin and he was working on finding more as he stripped off her shirt. It was bare seconds after that her bra followed and her breasts were in his hands. He caught the gasp that escaped her with his lips just before he dipped his head and captured one of her nipples lightly between his teeth. Using his tongue, lips and teeth he drove her to the point of frustration, teasing both breasts, before returning to her lips. His shirt met hers on the floor and they finished stripping each other, their need to be skin to skin taking over and causing them to rush a little.
Once they were naked, he scooped her into his arms and carried her over to the bed; he delighted in her squeal because he knew she hated it when he picked her up. When he laid her down it was with all the care a man does when bowing before his queen, and for once in her life she let herself feel as loved as one. He came down beside her, his hand caressing first her cheek moving down her neck, her chest, over her tummy, skimming her sex and ending at her thigh. She let her hands roam his body, marveling in his muscles and how hard it seemed every inch of him was. He was watching her; simply watching, a small smile in his eyes. Their hands were touching, caressing, skimming, it felt almost as if they were taking the time to memorize every inch of the others body. As their hands played, their lips tasted. They spent a long while here in this moment, letting the heat build until it became too much and he had to do more than just touch her.
Rolling her to her back he pinned her beneath him. Moving slowly down her body, trailing kisses as he did, he traced a path down until he captured her clit in his mouth. She let out a moan and he slid his tongue inside her. It was only a small challenge to keep the pace slow as he worshiped her, and as he did with her breasts earlier he drove her to absolute frustration. He would tease her to the point of cumming and then bring her back down. She rode the waves of pleasure as he created them, loving the highs and enjoying the lows, savoring every last second of what he was doing to her. It wasn't a moan that escaped her when he moved first one finger deep into, followed quickly by a second, but a scream. It was his teeth that he used lightly on her clit as he worked her toward climax this time. Her orgasm rocked them both and took her breath away completely.
