Constructing Want

A speckle of freckles
rolled in cinnamon sugar
lying in wait
chestnut hair
fanned across the mattress
thumbs brushing
against the points
of climbing arousal
skyward
the spinning fan
his meticulous examination
of her exposure
biting her lip
growing wetter
under his controlled
patience

Close attention
to her mouth
locking in
lengthy kisses
capturing her breath
hands travelling
across generous mounds
his hardness
grazing her
beneath his
astute perusal
but holding back

"Please," she begs.

Standing above her
he positions his tip
inches from her mouth
allowing her a quick taste
before pulling away.

"Trust me," he says.
"You need a little more time.

"But I want it!" she pleads.
"Please feed it to me."