He stands against the door, spellbound by the body on the bed, transfixed by the contrast of the black lingerie drawn tight against her fair skin, the delicate fingers slowly drawing down the cups of lace, the pert breasts topped with the palest pink and the crimson peaks he longs to take in turn between his lips, the creamy thighs splaying themselves languorously, the slender stockinged legs leading the way to the bloom demurely revealing itself, the petals throbbing, fluttering, glistening, the scarlet core dripping its sweet nectar, leaving him in no doubt of her desire.
Snapped out of his voyeuristic daze by her moan, he approaches with a composure at odds with the beast rising up inside him, with the primal urge to unzip himself, exposing the thick, insistent flesh between his legs and plunging it into the depths of her searing heat in one selfish stroke that would have her crying out his name in an instant.
Rather than giving in to this urgency – an urgency he now senses within her also as her scent begins to overpower the room – his gaze continues its teasing caress, travelling over the detail of the blue eyes with their long ebony lashes, the full sensuous mouth demanding to be kissed, the line of her neck, the hollow of her collarbone, the swell of her abdomen, the flare of her hips. And the two heart-shaped spots of beauty on her inner left thigh.
As his large hands finally take hold of her, sliding along the entire length of her body, up and down, down and up, her raspy breath the sweetest song, he makes a mental note to kiss the little twin hearts, tenderly, sensually, after he has fucked her with long, strong thrusts, after she has shuddered and screamed, begging for more, pleading him to stop, to kiss the little twin hearts, tenderly, sensually, after she has come hotly over his naked cock, after he has erupted with a violence that nearly tears him apart, to kiss the little twin hearts, tenderly, sensually, before leaving by their side his own unique and indelible mark.