“God, yes.” She found a freckle and stroked it, before sitting up to put her mouth to it, hunting for other freckles to kiss and lick. “How long you are, your skin, pale and smooth, your shoulders, the way you’re muscled without being built. So perfect.”
“You’re not half bad yourself, you know?” He cast her an admiring glance then, before letting out an incoherent sound of pleasure as her lips mapped out his flesh, hips bucking up with the over-sensitivity of the gesture. “And all yours to touch, huh?”
“Alllll mine,” she purred against his skin. She bit, gently, along his hipbone, as punishment for his remark. “I am not nearly as good-looking as you. Down.”