*Tom*
Christ, I am tired, I think to myself as I am finishing up in the bathroom, getting ready for bed. But a lightness comes over me as I walk towards the door. Willa is near. Hopefully still awake, waiting for me.

Tonight, I want to watch as delight makes its way over her entire body. If she is still awake of course.  If not, I will slip into her bed and just hold her in my arms.

After opening the door, I step through and freeze at the sight of her lounging on my bed like a content cat, her hair loose and cascading down her back. She is wearing nothing but stay up stockings and a red slip of a nightdress that only just covers her breasts and teases them with black lace. Its length is such that the laced hem in the front just covers the soft red curls that brings me such delight, but the way she has positioned herself reveals the back of it riding high on her right cheek and no doubt on her left as well, although I can't see it. The black piping running down the front accentuated her curves and her beautiful pregnancy.

"Christ". Wow, is that rough rasp really my voice ?

"You might want to come over here". She says calmly as though I have retained the ability to move at all.

Still, I somehow manage to close the door behind me without slamming it, without disturbing the rest of the hotel. "Is that a new outfit for seduction ?"

"It might be".  In a sinewy move, she rolls off the bed, giving me a good view of all that it doesn't cover, and my body reacts as though my hands are already skimming over that bare flesh. "Do you like it ?"

My mouth is dry as I mumble. "A lot yeah".

I start to shrug out of my pyjama shirt but she flattens a hand against my chest.

"I want to do it. I want to remove every scrap of clothes from your person".

I breathe out slowly. "You'll be the death of me".

"But won't it be a lovely way to go ?" She sends me a cheeky smile.

With a growl I take possession of her mouth, a mouth that has the power to utter words that has the capability of dropping me to my knees. I will never get enough of the taste of her, the feel of her, the fragrance of her. The boldness of her. Ah, yes, especially the boldness of her.

Without removing her lips from mine, she unbuttons my shirt and shoves it off my shoulders and down my arms. It lands with a soft thud on the floor.

Cradling her head between my hands, I adjust the angle of her mouth slightly and take the kiss deeper, our tongues twisting and entwining. I admire her patience. I would have been content to hear the buttons pinging across the room as they were sent flying with the force of the fabric being torn.

"Let me just handle these stockings". She says and pushes me backwards till I drop into the nearby chair. She sensually rolls off first one stocking, then the other and my gaze falls on that little bit of cloth that so effectively covers the sight of heaven. But if I am to dip my head just a little bit more...

"You're only wearing the nightdress, aren't you ?"

"I am". Her voice is sweet like honey.

I lift my gaze to hers. "How can a bit of frippery drive me mad ?"

"Does it ?" Her innocent tone only serves to increase the madness.

"You know it does".

She presses her lips together, smacks them thoughtfully and then runs her tongue around them. Lord help me, I am going to spill my seed before I ever get out of my trousers. I quickly stand and reach for my trousers ...

Her hands land on mine. "I want to do it".

"Do it quickly". I beg her.

She peers up at me with a saucy smile. "I'll do it as I want".

"Why are you torturing me ?" My voice is raw and strained.

"Am I ?" That innocent yet sensual tone again.

I close my eyes for a moment. "You know you are, you little witch".

"You always lead, and I follow". She says quietly, studying the fall of my trousers. Surely, she can see that my protruding erection is about to cause the pants to rip. "I want to lead tonight".

I hadn't realized that I always lead. Often, to me, it feels as though we are taking direction from each other.

Still, perhaps tonight is my punishment. As far as punishments go, it is one of the more pleasant ones.

With her nails, she lightly scratches over my buttocks as she pulls down my trousers. The tremor that flows deliciously through me with the scrape of her nails is nearly my undoing, and I almost doesn't notice that she has gone to her
knees in order to lower my trousers all the way.

After stepping out of them and kicking them aside, I reach down to help her to her feet, but when my hands curl around her shoulders ...

"No". Her voice is determined.

I freeze and wait.

She trails her fingers up and down my thighs. "You have such firm legs''.

She presses a kiss to my knee. My knee, for God's sake. It very nearly buckles. Then an inch above my knee. The inside of my thigh.

"You often do very wicked things between my thighs with your mouth". She says solemnly before bending  back her head and meeting my gaze. "Why do you never let me do something similar to you ?"

Is she insinuating what I think she is ? "Because I didn't think you would enjoy it".

"Do you taste like Brussels sprouts, then ?"

I furrow my brow. "I very much doubt it".

Her lids are half-lower; her mouth pouts prettily. "That's the only taste I can't stand".

My groan comes all the way up from the soles of my feet. "Willa ...".

"I want to taste you".  Her hands are clasping the backs of my legs, her mouth once again pressed to the inside of my thigh. "Would you like me to ?"

How can she sound so innocent and yet so worldly at the same time ?

"Yes". It comes out as more of a croak than a word.

She nips at the sensitive skin where her mouth rests. My stomach tightens. My hands fist up. I can't take my gaze off the sight of her fair head so near to my erection. The unruly thing strains toward her. I have no luck whatsoever making it behave, no doubt because I have no real desire for it to.

Her hands come around, and she closes her fingers around the base of my shaft, and now it has no choice except to do as she commands.

She licks her lips, then kisses the head, and the pleasure that shoots through me causes every muscle to tighten. I thread my fingers through her soft hair because I can't stand not to touch her when she is touching me so intimately.

"No Brussels sprout flavor". She says, and takes her tongue on a tour that leaves no part of my throbbing member overlooked. With a low groan, I drop my head back with the exquisiteness of the sensations rifling through me.

A little death. That is what the French call it. I am surely going to die, here and now.

Then I feel her mouth ... the heat, dampness, softness ... closing around me and every inch of me tenses. Glancing down, I watch as her head bobs while she works those plump lips and her velvety tongue over my sensitive flesh. "Willa . . . God . . . uh . . . do you know how beautiful you are ?"

She doesn't answer, instead she simply takes me deeper, and I honestly don't know if I am going to survive her enthusiastic mistrations.

*Willa*
I wonder if he can feel me smile. His groans and moans and occasional curses only incites me to torment him further. His fingers keep jerking, his thighs are quaking and his stomach is quavering.

It makes me happy to realize how much he is enjoying this. Not in a giddy, laughing, twirling-in-the-snow sort of way. But in a darkly, delicious, sweet-agony sort of way.

I am incredibly familiar with the madness all those contradicting sensations can create. He has put me through them often enough. It pleases me greatly to be returning the favor.

"Willa . . . sweetheart . . . I can't take much more". Gently, he cradles my jaw and eases away from me. "Let me take you to bed now".

I lift my gaze to his. "Did you like it ?"

"I loved it". Bringing me to my feet, he sweeps me up into his arms. "Kiss me darling".

"You will taste yourself". I mumble, remembering kissing him after he has gone down on me.

His eyes burn into mine. "I don't care, just kiss me".

  Plastering my mouth onto his with an enthusiasm indicating I would die if I don't kiss him, I sweep my tongue over his, sighed as he sucks on my tongue just as I had sucked on him.

Our fall onto the bed breaks the kiss but does little else to separate us as he takes his mouth on a journey over the swells of my breasts.

"I'm torn between keeping this damn thing on you and taking it off". He declares with emphasis, running his hands over the nightdress.

I bite my lip. "Leave it on".

"It drives me mad. But now it's my turn". He scoots down until he is nestled between my thighs. The first stroke along my cleft is with his forefinger. "My God, but you're wet. You actually liked what you were doing".

"I did. Do you like what you're about to do down there ?" I glance at him through lashes.

His lids are half-lowered, his gaze sultry. "I wouldn't be down here if I didn't".

Then his tongue replaces his finger, the caress is slow and long, and I very nearly see stars. I am so ready for him. My little nubbin is swollen and throbbing and so very sensitive to his touch. When he tugs on it, I jerk up, almost sitting, cradling his head between my hands. "I think I'm a wanton ... you turned me into one".

"I love wantons". He mumbles against my skin.

A suckle, a swirl of his tongue, and my entire body tenses, crying out for release. "I can't hold on much longer".

"Then fly". His voice vibrates through me.

"Not without you. Not tonight. I want you inside me". I tell him with a purr.

With a growl, he moves swiftly, rolling away from me, landing on his back. "Straddle me so I can appreciate this maddening dress".

Placing my knees on either side of his hips, I rise up. He positions himself, and I begin slowly pushing down until he is completely seated inside me. He fills me entirely and it feels so wonderful. I blink back the tears that threaten. I wait, simply absorbing all the wonderful sensations I experience when we are joined.

He grins up at me. "You know what, this is in the way. Besides, I think it's done its job. It and your mouth. I don't think I've ever been this hard in my entire life".

I release a small laugh, partly because he sounds so disgruntled, partly because he sounds so satisfied and pleased.

After pulling the nightdress over my head, he drops it over the side of the bed. He fills his hands with my breasts, and begins kneading.

I moan. "That feels so damned good".

"Did you just use profanity ?" Another cheeky grin.

With a smile, I lower myself, kissing him. "Like that is a surprise to you, your bastard. No shut up and pleasure me".

Placing his hands at my back, he holds me in place as he rolls his shoulders off the bed and closes his mouth,around my nipple, suckling and soothing. That feels even better.

He gives the same attention to my other breast, before dropping back down. "You have the reins, sweetheart. Ride me. Fast, slow, gentle, hard. I'll follow your lead".

At this moment I don't know if it is possible to love him any more than I do. I rise up the length of him then slide back down. It is a different angle from what I have ever experienced before. I like it. I like it a lot. Then I begin rocking, creating pressure where I need it the most.

"Oh, you're enjoying that a lot aren't you". He says softly.

"How do you know ?" I can't help asking.

"Because you look like you've found heaven".

I have. With him. But I don't want to think about that now. Those thoughts are for later.

As his hands return to my breasts, I ride him, increasing the tempo, sliding, rocking.

We both begin panting in earnest; the pleasure begins building. But the peak seems to elude me.

"I can't...". I shake my head. How can I explain it ? "I don't . . .".

He cradles my hips between his hands. I slide up, and he guides me down with more force. The pleasure intensifies. I gasp.

"Is that what you need ?" He asks.

"Yes. Yes". I moan. Oh lord it feels so good.

Because his hands are occupied, I used my own to knead my breasts, to tease my nipples, making my joy increase as his eyes darken and his jaw clenches. All my nerve endings begin tingling. The most exquisite sensations roll through me.

When we explode, I have to bite my fist to keep my scream contained. The vibrations are still erupting through me when he digs his fingers into my hips, groans, and thrust deeply into me one last time.

I collapse on top of him, not certain I will ever move again.