The woman fingers traced the gentle arc over his neckline through slow pace, as if she were learning that glow of that nape.
Soft sigh swept along his throat and then she leaned nearer, both skin fitting through soft hunger.
Softly he replied in a tender touch of lips one that intensified ever so by degrees, discovering every softness of that quiet waiting.
Each caress felt patient, learning in place of possessing, allowing their desire rise in gentle rhythms.
At last softly she gently spoke her lover’s name into her lover’s kiss, every whisper held equally gentleness mixed with need.
Within the shared shared pause the two settled into an intimate rhythm and it seemed far less resembling need rather than closer like quiet promise merely the lovers of them would share.
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