“You like to win.”
“I do.”
“I have a game for you.” I say , looking down at you. “I’m going to start…here.” I lower my lips to the hollow of your neck, just under your chin, leaving a light kiss, “…and every time you make a sound…” my teeth graze your throat just hard enough to make you gasp, “…or move…” my fingertips brush along your palm, drawing lines down the inside of you arm, causing your own fingers to close around mine, “…yes, like that…each time, I’m going to move lower…” action follows words: another kiss is laid against your collarbone, and then another and another, following the neckline of your shirt, small hungry kisses laid out along your skin in a path from one shoulder to the next.
You are quiet, intent on the game; for my part, the luxury of your warm skin keeps me occupied and I am content to nuzzle your skin , a soft growl giving heat to my kisses as they traverse the temptation that is your neck.
Unexpectedly, I nip at your ear, making you jump, a concession to surprise as much as pleasure; I claim my reward regardless, hands drawing the bottom of your shirt up to leave your upper half exposed to my hungry gaze and hungrier mouth.
Descending, I sear my desire into your skin with half-parted lips along the promise of your breasts, taking my time to enjoy _every_ inch of skin, tongue running along the undercurve of each, feeling the subtle weight of yours breasts against my lips. When I finally find your nipple and draw it into the warmth of my mouth, I can feel your hips arch against my hands, which have settled upon your waist.
Another concession to me.
I want more.
With little concern to mercy, my breath trails across your stomach, and lower still.
“It’s…not fair!” you say, “The game only gets,” a pause, as your breath catches in response to my teeth along the sensitive skin along the inside of your thigh, “h-harder!”
I glance up at you with a wicked grin.
“I never said it was a fair game.”