Infatuation

Her hand fell delicately against the fine lining of his suit trousers as he sat opposite her.

Her nerves running like sharp glitter, pricking her lightly all over her body.

Her body now unable to control itself as his hands slipped lightly down the silk ties of her vintage corset, tugging harshly to open her up.

That knowing smug smirk on his face that always turned her on.

Made her squirm.

His hands removing her heels.

His mouth devouring her breasts.

She was nothing to him.

Nothing but a mere conquest as his hands slipped up the folds of her skirt, pulling down her suspenders and pushing her lace knickers aside, allowing them to drop on to the floor.

He wanted her.

Passion blazing through his hands.

Mouth.

Tongue.

Arching her back.

She was his infatuation.

 

© Copyright of Charlotte Thorpe