He whispered in her ear “I’m tired. Let’s go,” and by the way his words lingered just below her earlobe she knew he wouldn’t be short of energy once they got home.
She was in heels, but they were only five blocks away from his condo. Indian Summer had blown its final kisses that morning, and left a crisp, cold air in its good-bye. At the stoplight she shivered, so he wrapped his scarf around her shoulders and rubbed her arms before giving her a playful tap on the ass soon as the light turned green.
Once in his living room he took off her shoes, placed them in her hands, then carried her effortlessly to his bed. She yawned, but knew she would get no sleep that night. Hovering over her, he opened the blinds inviting all of the world – or at least those on the 26th floor and up to see. Cocky bastard.
The moonlight flooded through the windows, tippy-toeing across her curves and creating the perfect silhouette of shadows around his body. Although chilly outside, her skin burned against his and she swore there was fire in their kiss.
He slid his hand down her leg and held her ankle in the air, carefully slipping it over his shoulder. He kissed the top of her foot, then slowly made his way up to her calf … the side of her knee. Meanwhile, she played with his hair using one hand while she fondled her breast with the other. Until he kissed the inside of her thigh next to her womanhood and she writhed with delight. If she was wearing panties, they would’ve been wet.