That feeling of vertigo returned, the one she got when she stepped off a cliff, like going to The Velvet Basement, like showing him the image. She tentatively lifted her hand, like she might to a wild beast, not wanting it to shy away and not wanting to get bitten either, and let her fingers hover over his lips.
“Demetri?” her voice was a whisper. “Can I….?”
He made a sound, a beautiful pained sound she took as assent and lightly touched his lips. A quick glance up into those black pupils, he wasn’t shocked, annoyed or angry. Georgie took in a shaky breath and her touch deepened, a soft press against the fullness of hips mouth, a glide across its surface. It was much, much softer than she imagined, lips firm, full and soft.
Every nerve was suddenly alive, vibrating. A cacophony of communication as if she had swallowed a beehive. Rational thoughts had long left. What drove her was something far more primitive. And unbelievably delicious.
His hand came around her wrist, she stilled for a moment and when he didn’t stop her, she continued. Fingers traced the seam of his mouth, back and forth, and then she stopped, took a shuddering breath and pressed her finger between his lips.
The tip touched teeth which parted, dragged over the top of her finger as she gently and slowly pressed in and touched his tongue.
His hand tightened around her wrist.
Georgie held her breath. Her finger encircled and encased in the soft, damp, heat of his mouth.
The air between them so tight.
And then he sucked. Aching need blossomed between her legs. A throbbing want pulsed and lured her with all kinds of promises. Inexplicable feelings washed through her making her aware of everything…her nipples as they pressed against fabric, her breasts aching to be touched, the emptiness between her legs, especially there, at the hot center of her sex.