With his lips and teeth making a pilgrimage up the inside of her thigh, the heat of his body and the caress of his spoken words brushed across her labia. The alternating temperatures and slightest vibrations nudged her bit by bit into that soft, almost dozy arousal, her fingers twisting lazily in the sheets. She forgave him his smugness for the certainty that he would and always did turn her inside out--she'd never had a partner who loved having his face in her cunt half this much, and enthusiasm translated to fantastic orgasms.

She almost wasn't listening, and had to backtrack when he popped his head up. He was asking about her preferences? Now?

Lifting her head from the pillows, she mock-glared down her body at him, raised a severe eyebrow, and growled, "Not the time," at him, before curling her leg to bop him in the back of the head with her foot. It might be his nameday, but her patience had limits.