The sun had set, moonlight spilled through the half-open curtains, silvering the curve of her waist, the soft rise and fall of her chest as she breathed hard as intense flux of emotions coursed through her...

She rolled her hips once, slow and deliberate, dragging a rough groan from him. Again, harder, the heat of her pressing against the straining ridge in his trousers. His hands found her thighs, fingers sinking into soft skin as he tried, and failed, to keep any shred of control.

Sophie's fingers worked his shirt buttons with impatient grace. One, two, three; each pop of fabric revealed more of his chest until she could spread the shirt wide and rake her nails lightly down his skin.

Bruce sat up beneath her, mouth finding the sensitive spot just below her ear. He sucked gently, then not so gently, drawing a broken gasp from her as he tugged at the hem of her dress.

The fabric whispered up her body like silk over flame, and he peeled it away, exposing inch after inch of clear smooth skin. When it cleared her head he let it fall forgotten to the floor.

His palms skimmed up her bare back, tracing the delicate line of her spine until she arched into him, breasts brushing his chest, nipples tight against the thin lace still covering them. He made a low, hungry sound and dragged his mouth down the column of her throat, over her collarbone, lingering at the edge of lace before tugging it down with his teeth.

Sophie's head fell back, hair cascading like dark water over her shoulders. She ground down harder, the friction exquisite, maddening, both of them still half-dressed and already trembling.

"You'll be the end of me, Sophie," he rasped against her skin, voice raw, reverent.

She answered by rocking again, slow and filthy, and smiling when his hips jerked helplessly up to meet her.

"Good," she whispered, her breath hot against his ear. "I don't want you sane tonight."

Her fingers found his belt. The buckle gave a soft, metallic clink as it opened. The zipper rasped down, slow and deliberate, the sound sharp in the charged silence.

Bruce's hands slid up her back, calloused fingers tracing the line of her spine until they reached the clasp of her bra. One deft twist and the hooks surrendered; the lace loosened, slipping from her shoulders as he dragged it away.

The moment the clasp gave way, her bra loosened and slipped down her arms like a sigh. Her breasts spilled free, full and heavy, swaying gently with the motion of her breathing. Moonlight painted them ivory, the soft curves catching silver at their peaks, where dusky-rose nipples had already drawn tight from wanting.

Bruce's hands were there instantly, cupping them from beneath, lifting, testing their weight as though he couldn't quite believe they were real. They were warm silk over firm satin, impossibly soft yet perfectly resilient, filling his palms exactly, spilling just slightly over the edges of his fingers. He brushed his thumbs upward in a slow, reverent sweep and felt her shiver against him.

Sophie's breath hitched. A low, helpless sound escaped her as those hands learned her shape. When his thumbs grazed the stiff peaks she bit down on her lower lip, eyes fluttering shut, hips rolling instinctively against the hard line still trapped in his open trousers.

He kneaded gently at first, savoring the way her breasts molded to his touch, then firmer, possessive. Each squeeze drew another soft moan from her throat, each moan making him throb harder beneath her. When he caught her nipples between thumb and forefinger and rolled, slow, deliberate circles, the pleasure lanced through her like white heat. Her back arched, pressing herself deeper into his hands, silently begging for more.

Bruce obliged. He dipped his head, mouth returning to the tender spot just below her ear, sucking softly until she trembled. His lips brushed the shell of her ear, voice rough with wonder.

"Such beautiful tits you have, Sophie… and these breasts, Damn, they're perfect."

Before she could answer he lowered his mouth to one aching peak. The first touch of wet heat made her cry out, quiet but sharp.

"Aaahn~"

Bruce didn't stop, he closed his lips around her nipple, drew it in with gentle suction, tongue swirling lazy, decadent circles. Again. Again. Then a soft scrape of teeth, just enough to make her jolt, before he soothed with long, languid licks.

Sophie's hands flew to his hair, fingers threading through the dark strands, holding him there. She sagged against him, boneless, the delicious pressure of his mouth and the grind of her hips creating a rhythm older rhythm. Every pull of his lips sent sparks skittering down her spine, pooling hot and liquid between her thighs.

He moved to the other breast, giving it the same slow worship, tongue flicking, teeth grazing, mouth sucking until her nipple was slick and gleaming and so sensitive she could barely breathe. She felt herself sinking, melting, until the only thing keeping her upright was the arm he'd banded around her waist and the relentless, perfect torment of his mouth.

Somewhere in the haze she realized she was rocking against him in earnest now, chasing friction, chasing release, chasing him. And still he feasted on her like a man starved, murmuring praise against her skin between kisses, low, filthy, adoring, until the entire world narrowed to the wet heat of his mouth, the rough-silk drag of his hands, and the pounding, aching need to feel all of him inside her.

Sophie's breath came in shallow, trembling waves. Every slow pull of Bruce's mouth sent another pulse of heat straight to her core, until she was rocking against him without shame, slick and desperate, the seam of his open trousers doing nothing to hide how hard he was, how ready.

She dragged her nails down his bare chest, over the ridges of muscle, feeling him shudder beneath her touch. When she reached the waistband of his boxers she didn't ask; she simply slipped her hand inside and wrapped her fingers around him.

"Argh fuck" He groaned, the sound reverberating against her breast.

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