Phei inhaled slowly, reverently, eyes fluttering half-closed.
"You smell like heaven," he whispered against the tender skin just beside her sex, lips brushing feather-light.
The words vibrated through her, pulling a trembling "oh…" from her throat as fresh slick gathered at her entrance.
Only then did he bring that beautiful mouth—the one she had watched all day, mesmerized by the way it shaped words, the way it smiled, the way it promised things she barely dared hope for—finally, finally between her thighs.
His first touch was gentle: a slow, flat lick from her entrance upward, gathering the slick evidence of how long she had craved this. Delilah's head fell back against the window ledge with a broken cry—"ahh—Phei!"—fingers threading tightly into his dark hair as her hips jerked instinctively toward his tongue.
