He was torn between pulling away from her to eat and undress or to stay and pursue the need he was feeling, increasingly becoming more apparent. He decided that the food would wait, or he even might combine the two. Bending back to her, he used his hand to stroke down her cheek to her throat, tipping her head to the side so his fingers could be replaced by his mouth.
He kissed her there, pulling at the smooth white skin with his lips, puckering it in mock nibbles, as he let his mouth wander down her neck to the front of her nightgown. He lowered himself so that he half lay on her and the bed, and his hand stroke her curves, tracing her shoulder to her underarms and down her forearms. He shifted and toyed with his mouth at the edge of her sleepware, anticipating a response from her that would encourage him to continue his path lower.
"Cissa," he whispered against her skin, his fingers still stroking but not moving down the gown, not yet at least. His fingers ached to caress her through the silky material, but he wanted her to be ready for his attentions, anticipating him as much as he anticipated her