The magnet was always there. After that first kiss if he got within a certain proximity to her his body automatically moved in. That draw was always present, like some scientific law. And when his hands did touch her they fit so perfectly. They moved to her sides, palm curving to the shape of her hip bone. When she turned into his arms his hand moved to her bottom, which seemed made for his touch. When he cupped her breasts he let out a low growl, his senses taking over.
She was vocal. She made sweet little sounds in his arms. When the kisses became heated he could feel the moans emanating from her. When his dipped his head into the crook of her neck and kissed and nibbled there she let out these perfect little whimpers.
It was always building between them. Every moment together was foreplay. It didn’t matter if they were touching or not. The way she walked near him, the sway of her arms, the way her lips moved when she spoke, it was all part of the seduction between them.
He felt her eyes on him as well. He felt her tracing the shape of his lips and drinking in the blue of his eyes. She posed herself for him, bending this way and that way when it wasn’t necessary, just to see him shudder.
She got wet. Kissing and a few dirty words would do it. He made her squirm and writhe with his fingers. He kissed her between her legs and she bucked her hips and begged.
When he slipped in, it was like warm wet heaven. She was tight. She wasn’t very experienced, she said, but she was a whore for him. She liked him to say it. “You’re my little slut, aren’t you?” and her pretty head would wrestle with whether to blush or cum.
When she left they had a hard time letting go, even if they would see each other in a few hours. She clung to his shirt as he slipped his hand to the familiar curve of her bottom. The day would be nothing but wanting until they saw each other that night and then the cycle of want would start again.