He also liked the sounds and reactions he was able to draw out of Eve with the right touches, tastes and pressures. Although he would very much have liked an eidetic memory, when it came down to it, so he could remember exact images. Well, videos, really. Sound was definitely a necessary accompaniment, encouraging as well as a definite turn on.
Speaking of encouraging, the barely there moans of Eve's were enough to tell Jack that he was likely on the right course. As was both the rise of her chest to offer herself up to him, or at least that was how he saw it, and that one of her hands came to his hair.
Not that that smile of hers had indicated anything but enjoying his attentions. If it had, he would have pulled away and pulled her clothes back into some semblance of order, despite the desire to do the exact opposite. Right then he wanted to be able to bury himself with her, and let them both lose themselves in the movement. And yet, at the same time, there was something else he wanted to do. To her, for her.
All the while his thoughts had been churning, his hand had been busy kneading and playing leisurely with her breast. While he had sucked and rolled her other nipple with his mouth and tongue, drawing it into his mouth only to release it once it was ruby bright and standing at attention. He liked the soft flesh that was pliant under his hand, the differing textures of complete smoothness to the puckered tip. That each different touch and pressure, each action garnered a different twist of sound and of her less than steady and sure breathing.
Slowly he began slipping downwards again, openmouthed kisses drawing a new and far more weaving line back down her chest and stomach. To the curve of one hip, to a spot just below and to the left of her navel, and his hands slid a following line on either side of her. Until fingers edged the hem of oddly purple pants and slowly and deliberately began peeling back the fabric.