I fidget with the fluffy sheets on his bed, and turn away, blushing.
He pulls me back towards him, looking me straight in the eye with those gorgeous, almost ethereal baby blues of his.
“Looking at me like that.”
“Like… that! Like you want… me.”
“But I do!” he says, before softly brushing his lips against mine. “You’re adorable. Pretty. Wonderful, marvelous, and I want to devour you. And it happens to express itself through my face!”
“Well, stop it! You’re making me…. making me…”
He chuckles, and my heart melts yet again at the sight of his gorgeous mouth, framed by that eternal five-o-clock shadow.
“Making you… what?” he whispers, before he crawls under the sheets.
“Making me incredibly… NERVOUS! Ah, you fucker!”
His stubble brushes against my thigh, but it doesn’t matter, because soon, all I can focus on is his tongue, lapping against my throbbing clit.
He makes me giggle. He makes me wobbly and giddy.
He makes me smile.