Delilah's hunger had not fade when they reached the bed. It deepened into something feral and worshipful.
The moment Phei laid her down on the black silk and white velvet, something inside her snapped into place with an audible, internal click. This was no longer stolen kisses or careful touches that stopped before they became too much.
This was her moment; her turn and she was done waiting the moment she declared she was leading this.
She pushed against his chest with both hands — not roughly, but with clear, possessive intent.
Phei allowed himself to be guided onto his back without resistance, his eyes watching her with a mixture of searing heat and deep, unshakable affection. He let her have this. He wanted her to have this, every line of his body relaxed into the sheets as he surrendered the lead completely.
Delilah sat up beside him, her long strapless dress slipping lower on her chest from the movement until the soft upper swells of her breasts threatened to spill free.
