Her lashes having long gone too heavy, it seemed, to hold up any longer, Keyuri let her eyes close to sink the whole of her consciousness into the senses of smell, of touch, of taste. Where the air slipped over her tongue, past parted lips, heated pheromones and the scent of his skin flooded her lungs. Under her hands, over her skin, over the shape and curve and line of her, she felt him in the tickling of his hair beneath her fingertips, in the calloused pass of his fingers and palms over her skin where her skirt had slid up to allow him to touch her unheeded.
Her skin felt as if she shimmered with it, that gleam of anticipatory lust and need, all of her feeling tight and hot and too ready for more, even as she wanted to indulge in every bit of him and all he fostered in her as much as possible.
She breathed sharp in a flicker of impatience before she caught her hands at his jaw and gently tugged his mouth up as she dropped her own, showing more demand there than Keyuri ever did outside of bed. She caught his mouth with hers, slanting her lips over his and licking across his bottom lip in askance, even as a hand dropped from his jaw to catch at the hem of his shirt and pulled at it, insistent in the desire to feel skin on skin.