The order comes out in a no-nonsense tone. I’m not playing around anymore. I want to see every inch of her naked body moving for me.
“Take off your clothes while you dance for me. Show me what I’m about to enjoy. Show me what’s mine, baby.”
She smiles coyly and kicks off her sandals first.
I scoff. “Smartass.”
She laughs as she reaches for her top. The cream-colored blouse could almost be considered demure compared to some of the dresses I’ve seen her in. But the skintight dark jeans she’s wearing are anything but demure. They hug her sweetheart of an ass so tight I can see the dimples of her rounded cheeks. And there’s a rip in the denim so high up on her thigh it’s almost indecent.
The top lands on the floor.
Her bra is the same color, cream with lace detailing. It looks like something a bride would wear on her wedding night. Don’t think about that. You’ll start getting all kinds of ideas. She certainly doesn’t need a wire bra or any kind of support because her natural tits defy gravity.
I need my hands on those. Then my mouth.
The jeans come off next. Goddamn, the panties match.
They’re satin and mesh, all wrapped up in a creamy little package that I want to take between my teeth and rip the fuck off. Especially since they’re covering up an even better package underneath. The contrast of that light cream material against her caramel skin has me practically drooling. She’s like some type of white chocolate/caramel dessert. Like…tiramisu? No, it’s not quite creamy enough. And cheesecake is almost too bland for Sophie’s rich flavor.
Sophie is fucking crème brûlée.
She’s got that top layer of caramelized sugar that’s sweet but contrasts with the texture of the rich and smooth vanilla bean custard below. Her top sugar layer is the wall she erects around her heart that bars the rest of the world from seeing her true self. But once you’re able to work your way past that, you’re treated to the most succulent, addictive flavor you’ll ever taste.
And I have every intention of gorging myself on that flavor tonight.