Harry's eyes

His movements slow and deliberate, Harry reached out to brush a stray lock of midnight silk from Bianca's forehead. Time itself seemed suspended, captured within the amber hues of the dying daylight spilling across the bedroom floor. And then, almost imperceptibly, Bianca stirred – awakening not merely from the reverie induced by song, but emerging fully into the awareness of what was transpiring between them.

Her eyelashes flickering like butterfly wings against porcelain cheekbones, Bianca's verdant irises gradually revealed themselves, piercing the semi-darkness with startling clarity.

As Bianca's lashes lifted, revealing the radiant depths of her eyes, Harry felt an overwhelming urge to bridge the gap separating them. With calculated deliberation, he surrendered to the pull, permitting his upper body to drift forward. The languorous descent brought his face level with Bianca's, positioning their features tantalizingly close.

For one fleeting instant, the pair hovered thus—poised precariously on the cusp of discovery.

Without thinking, without reasoning, Harry succumbed to the primal call coursing through his veins. Leaning farther forward, his chin dipped low enough for his lips to graze Bianca's.

The whisper-soft touch sent ripples throughout Bianca's entire being, stirring sensations hitherto unknown to her. Like rose petals unfolding under morning dew, her lips relaxed, releasing the slightest sigh as they yielded to the pressure exerted by Harry's tentative kiss. Unhurried, unhurried as summer breeze filtering lazily through leaf-laden branches, his tongue teased forth responses hidden even from her own self-awareness. Slow tremors danced upwards along her spine as Bianca reciprocated instinctively—the muted delight evoked kindling profound cravings huddled unsuspecting within her psyche.

As Bianca's senses continued to reel from the sublime gentleness of Harry's probing kiss, she suddenly became aware of his hand sliding up her thigh. At first, the ascent was gradual, camouflaged by the distracting symphony of emotions swirling inside her. However, as his fingertips traversed higher, breaching the hemline of her dress, Bianca's consciousness jolted awake, registering the bold incursion.

Though tempered with caution, Harry's exploratory touch ignited bursts of electricity within Bianca's slender physique. Prickles of anticipation spread rapidly across her chilled skin, responding intuitively to the merest whispers of contact initiated by those deft digits dancing lightly upon her person.

Sensing the shift in her demeanor - a subtle stiffening born of surprise rather than revulsion - Harry seized the opportunity to deepen the kiss, effectively eclipsing all else save the soft fusion of their mouths.

With masterful subtlety, Harry wove a sensual tapestry designed specifically to ensnare Bianca's scattered thoughts; tender nips interwoven seamlessly alongside sweeping caresses aimed squarely at coaxing a response from the fluttering heart beneath his fingertips. Amidst such gentle onslaught, Bianca found herself subconsciously relinquishing resistance - cupping Harry's face gently yet firmly with both palms as though attempting to anchor reality amidst whirling chaos unleashed solely via sensory manipulation.

Emboldened by the fervency simmering beneath her delicate exterior, Bianca allowed her hands to chart a brazen path southward – tracing the contours of Harry’s neck, gliding effortlessly over broad shoulders until finally coming to rest upon the firm expanse of his chest. Her fingers curled reflexively into the fabric of his shirt, tugging insistently as an invitation for more intimacy. Encouraging Harry onto his back, she straddled him with newfound confidence, aligning their bodies in perfect harmony whilst maintaining eye contact intense enough to smolder embers lying dormant within his soul.

In this elevated state of desire, boundaries blurred and inhibitions melted away. Bianca could scarcely believe the audacity thrumming through her veins, urging her to explore these untapped reservoirs of passion. Guided by intuition and fueled by curiosity, she began to move—a slow undulation driven by raw impulse. Through layers of clothing, she rocked against him rhythmically, savoring the friction generated by their union. Each roll of her hips elicited a corresponding surge from below, where Harry lay rigid with need, his breath hitched somewhere between groan and gasp. Their mutual hunger transformed mere proximity into fiery communion.

His gaze never wavering from hers, Harry's hands slid downwards, seeking purchase on either side of her waist. Fingers splayed wide, he wrapped them securely around her curves, encircling the slight swell of her hips just above the flared skirt of her sundress. His thumbs nestled snugly into the shallow recesses formed by the inward curve of her pelvic bones, subtly shifting the angle of his grip to maximize tactile connection. Deliberate compression followed, channeling **** downward toward the apex of her thighs. As her weight settled deeper onto his lower abdomen, incremental increases in tension arced electrically between points of physical interface.

Yet, as much as Bianca reveled in the intensity of their synchronized movements, there lingered a barrier, a whispered reminder of modesty that begged to be silenced once and for all. In a motion fluid as silk caught in a zephyr, she disengaged from their intimate dance, pressing pause on the burgeoning tempest brewing between them. A query etched itself upon Harry's brow, concern mingling with confusion at the sudden reprieve. But understanding dawned swiftly as Bianca reached underneath the flowing material of her dress, hooking her thumbs around the band of her panties with an air of determined resolve.

With deliberate slowness, she drew the scrap of lace-trimmed cotton down her slender legs, letting gravity claim its own as the garment pooled softly atop her discarded sandals.

Meanwhile, Harry had leveraged the brief respite to attend to his own attire, deft fingers working in tandem to release the button fly securing his faded denim jeans. Metal buttons yielded silently one by one under pressure applied by nimble digits accustomed to plucking strings rather than negotiating fasteners. Once undone, worn seams parted easily to admit eager exploration.

However, his progress was soon arrested by Bianca's precipitous return to action - her lithe form swooping forward anew even as his pants hung suspended mid-thigh, bunched awkwardly around scrunched-up knee joints.

Without preamble, she resettled astride him, supple limbs coiling instinctually around his torso in preparation for renewed movement. Unfazed by his incomplete divestment, Bianca simply worked her body upward, wriggling free inches of newly-exposed flesh pinioned beneath overlapping garments. At each incremental shift, sensory nerve endings leapt alight across surfaces freshly brought into apposition.

The heat emanating from their bodies seemed to charge the very molecules composing the room, rendering the space dense with anticipatory energy. With abandon, Bianca ground her sex into his manhood, relishing the hardness pressed firmly against her most sensitive area. Her motions were unhurried yet insistent; each rotation of her hips serving to stoke the fire building steadily within both of them. The sensation of being joined without barriers sent shivers cascading throughout her frame – a preview of ecstasy hovering deliciously on the horizon.

Harry broke their silent exchange with a whisper thickened by lustful haze. "Should we get a con-"

But Bianca, lost in the throbbing urgency of the moment, placed a gentle finger against his lips—a wordless plea for silence, a desire to stay ensconced in the bubble of passion they had created. Slowly withdrawing her touch, she leaned in until their noses brushed lightly, sharing breath heavy with want.

In response to his unfinished question, Bianca rolled her hips backward with teasing precision, feeling the head of his erection slip through her wet folds, catching at her entrance. Then, with calculated intent, she tilted her pelvis forward slightly, allowing the tip of him to find purchase inside her.

An audible gasp escaped Harry's throat as he felt the initial resistance give way to welcome. Yet Bianca did not rush the union; instead, she savored the exquisiteness of the slow stretch, the delicious fullness that promised untold pleasure.

Her eyelids fluttering shut, Bianca pushed her hips down with measured grace, enveloping Harry completely. Every inch of him filled her, igniting nerves that danced wildly under her skin. Their collective sharp intake of breath punctuated the quietude of the room, marking the significance of the boundary crossed. For several heartbeats, neither moved, preferring to exist in the perfect suspension of shared discovery.

As Bianca acclimated to the novel sensation of completeness, something primal began to simmer low in her belly, spreading liquid tendrils of molten gold throughout her veins. It demanded satisfaction, urged her muscles into action despite the overwhelming urge to remain locked in sweet communion forevermore. And so, guided by innate wisdom older than consciousness itself, she embarked upon a journey dictated solely by raw emotion and visceral craving.

Slowly at first, almost imperceptibly, she commenced riding Harry’s cock with a nascent hunger that threatened to consume her whole.

Each rise and fall of her slender frame elicited a symphony of carnal delight, resonant whispers escaping from parted lips bearing testament to the depth of her enjoyment. Her emerald eyes glinted with fierce determination mixed with vulnerability, revealing the dual nature of her surrender — complete control wrestling harmoniously alongside utter capitulation to base desires.

Emboldened by the tight embrace of her walls clasping hungrily around his shaft, Harry allowed himself to succumb wholly to the maelstrom of sensation engulfing him.

Transfixed by the rhythmic undulations of Bianca's torso, he watched with rapt fascination as her entire essence became subsumed by the pursuit of orgasmic bliss. Each successive lift of her hips choreographed perfectly with the cadence of ragged breathing, sending tremors coursing throughout his distended member.

A hushed whimper involuntarily slipped beyond the confines of Bianca's pouted lips, attesting to the acute sensitivity of her swollen clitoris grazing repeatedly against the rough-hewn contours of Harry's pubis bone. That subtle scraping ignited fleeting wisps of spark-like electricity dancing tantalizingly near the epicenter of her womb.

As the crescendo of Bianca's passion swelled, threatening to overwhelm all rational thought, Harry's own fervor reached a critical juncture. His pupils dilating in anticipation, he strained upward, meeting Bianca's gaze with an urgent intensity that brooked no denial. "Close," he whispered hoarsely, the single syllable tumbling forth on a shaky exhale, its brevity underscoring the desperation lurking beneath. A delicate shudder coursed through his body, betraying the Herculean effort required to contain the surging tide of release that clamored for liberation.