Melissa was still trembling even when he rose from between her thighs, shivering in the silver aftermath — small, involuntary convulsions rolling through her body like the final ripples of a stone dropped into very deep water.
Her thighs were slick, glistening with her own arousal and the wet evidence of his mouth's devotion.
The heavy, musky scent of her thoroughly wet eaten pussy filled the space between them, thick and intoxicating, a silent confession of how completely he had already owned her pleasure.
Her eyes were closed as her chest heaved in long, shuddering draws of breath that made her breasts rise and fall in the moonlight with the slow, hypnotic rhythm of tides governed by something older than the ocean — nipples still dark and stiff and swollen, still bearing the faint indentations of his teeth, still catching the silver light at their peaks like small beacons signalling surrender.
