Sometimes, she would let him taste her, let him duck between her thighs and lick at that warm, wet part of her. He revels in the way her heels can’t quite find purchase on his back, the way her thighs close against his head when he tongues at a spot that makes her toes curl. Eating her isn’t an every day thing, and when she lies back to let him pleasure her, Arthur goes painfully hard between his own thighs. She isn’t a shy woman, the French aren’t made to be shy, but the noises she makes when he sucks at her, rolls his tongue between her lips and presses flat against her clit to rub (it works best when he rubs the words she won’t let him say, the words they both know he could say and mean so earnestly) are softer than when he slips his fingers into her, and definitely quieter than when he sinks into her. If she would let him, he’d stay on his knees for hours, hands holding her open and face buried in the mess he’s made of her.
(Source: xmoviegifs, via ecstaticorgans)
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