“Never mind my hair.” She pushed him down to the bed. “I know you love me. What was the rest?” She didn’t bother to wait for the answer, looping her hands behind his neck and kissing him hungrily.
Victor chuckled then grunted as he fell back onto the bed. He kissed her back just as hungrily before he flipped them and whispered into her ear again. “I want to lick you from your head to your toes.”
She lay flat beneath him, hair spread out all around her head. “Your voice is a sin and a temptation,” she told him, rolling her head back to expose her throat.
Victor began kissing her throat, ”Je le veux lécher le crème de ta framboise et veux te baiser dur et te fais jouis.” He punctuated each word with a kiss, his tongue flicking out occasionally. A growl spilled out from his throat and one of his hands framed the right side of her neck.
“I could wish I spoke French, but then I might be scandalised by your language.” The flowing syllables drowned her in rhythm. One hand crept up to clasp his wrist at her throat, not to prevent but to caress. “Ah, Victor,” Summer moaned.
He smirked, “It essentially means I want to lap you up and fuck you till you come for me. However, I’d hate for you to have to get out of the dress and take a shower again later.” His smirk turned into an almost evil grin as his hair fell forward a bit and framed his face. He moved his mouth from near her ear and began mouthing her neck and shoulder.
“I could,” she panted, “pull the skirt up … gods, Victor!” She groaned, pitifully, writhing under his touch.