Silk & Satin - Episode 6

She pulls her dress over her head. Black satin clings then slips, leaving her bare from the waist up. He watches her nipples tighten in the cool air before he palms one breast, rolling the peak between his fingers until she pushes forward, greedy for more. He drops to his knees. Hands sliding up the backs of her thighs, he lifts the hem of her skirt, tucks the fabric into her waistband, and buries his face between her legs. His tongue parts her, slow and thorough, each stroke dragging a wet line from her entrance up to her clit. She tastes clean and sharp and a little sweet, the way silk does when it’s been warmed by skin. Her thighs shake. One heel digs into the floor for balance while the other hooks over his shoulder, pulling him deeper. He answers with two fingers, easing them inside, curling them toward the spot that makes her back arch and her breath break into pieces. She comes fast and hard, a short cry spilling out, her hand fisted in his hair. He stays there, licking her through the aftershocks, until she pulls him up by the collar and kisses him open-mouthed, tasting herself on his tongue. He turns her toward the bed. She plants her palms on the sheets, spreads her feet. He frees himself, lines up, and pushes in on one long stroke. The satin skirt brushes his stomach with every thrust, a soft whisper against skin that feels almost indecent next to the raw slap of bodies meeting. She meets him, pushes back, takes every inch until the rhythm turns rough and urgent and the only sound left is the wet, rhythmic sound of skin and satin and need.