I slid my fingers over her dew damp hip and whispered into her open ear.
“Concupiscent.” Savoured the word, rolled it around on my tongue and saw her mouth imitate the shapes, soundlessly.
A single gasp rippled across her lips and I felt her body come alive beneath my touch.
Pouting lips, I bit along the lobe of her left ear, tasted her skin, sweet in my mouth, sliding my hand over her pubis and down into the tousled curls between her thighs.
With the tips of my ring and index, I parted the ripe lips of her sex, and let my middle finger hover above the centre of her desire.
She shivered, moaned, forced herself towards my adoring hand. Pushing my right hand between mattress and flesh, I curled it around her body, feeling her skin so smooth against my hard nipples, crushing her into my breasts as I reached for hers.
Alive in my palms, I whispered again.
“Fortuitous.” Like I knew the tremble of her sighs, the heat of her skin, the desire in her gasping face, I knew the words, the combinations of consonants that tapped into her most desirous centre.
“Consonant.” With every word, her breathing came faster.
I remembered her flat, the first time I had seen it. I thought she was an average, librarian bookworm. The shelves of novels, the word of the day calendars, the thesaurus beside her bohemian bed. It was only slowly and carefully that I unpackaged the beautiful life she had with words; the sounds that never ceased to arouse her mousy body.
I dipped my finger between her lips and caressed the roughness of her clit.
Tensed, back arched, cat-like.
I offered the oddest of her aural obsessions.
And she melted, deliciously, in my binding arms.
Written for #WankWednesday which is hosted every week by Ruby Kiddell at The Erotic Notebook. This week’s prompt is #Utensil.