I know you: your rough hands that can be so gentle despite their texture; your taste, a bit spicy with a hint of something I can't quite place; your scent of the woods after a rainstorm. I know your voice, the timber that still sends chills down my spine to my very core, and your breath, hot and urgent in my ear as the stubble on your chin scrapes my neck. I know your silky hair as it cascades around my naked breasts when you nip at my stomach.
The moment I first heard you speak I wanted you. Your voice was unlike any I had heard before, wrapping around my body like the wind and slipping into parts of me I'd hardly thought about at that point. I don't remember how long it took, but finally I had you in my bed, where you have been ever since. And it is always as good as the first time.
Your voice was full of awe as you described each inch of flesh revealed to you by my shedding clothes. Your hands and mouth follow your words, not in a race to the finish but a lingering trail that started with my hair and ended with my toes. You had nipped and suckled your way down my back, then turned me over and moved up my front.
I was on fire with my need for you, and when you blew cool air onto my wet sex I thought I'd come off the bed. Your tongue slid up the lips before brushing the bundle of nerves at the top. I cried out, but you wouldn't stop. Your tongue pulsed around my clit, sucking and pulling it. My hands tangled in your hair, pulling you closer and my heels dug into your back. You continued to lick and suck until I was whimpering your name. Before I went over the edge, though, you pulled away.
"Not yet" your voice floated over me. I longed to see your face, to know what desire was in your eyes, but your hands were on me again, brushing and scraping as you took my hands and tied them above my head. Sensing my hesitation you whispered "Trust me" before sucking an already puckered nipple into your mouth. My breasts are little more then a handful for you, yet you almost worship them as you nip and kiss each one.
As you lowered your mouth to my sensitive stomach, eliciting small gasps and moans, one of your hands had worked its way down to my heat again. You slid one finger, then two, into me. Your thumb stroked my clit as your fingers danced in and out in a rhythm that matched my pounding heart. I was begging you to fill me at that point.