It was from Charles that she'd learned the art of pacing- or at least relenting to his pace. It wasn't always slow like this- but when he'd designed it that way, she knew there was nothing she could do to stop it and it was merely her job to let him worship her body and drive her out of her mind.
The little things that he seemed to command were what made his love-making (if it could truly be called that) so indescribable. It was the space between their bodies, the desire, the tension.
Verity smiled at his chuckle and more so at the keen. She was rewarded handsomely when his lips found hers and she tasted him there. As their tongues and bodies touched simultaniously she moaned deeply, her hand moving to his back. His ministrations had left every nerve ending a livewire in her body and slow but sudden onslaught was more pleasurable than she thought was normal.
Although she didn't pick up the pace of their kiss much, she put into the slow attention as much passion as she was able to express.