Yet he was compelled to do what he could. He preferred Bea giggling and fluttering about—even naked, if she chose—so he’d see what he could do.
Thinking about fluttering... A lithe faery skipped down the stairs and landed on the parquet floor with a barefoot bounce. Sashaying into the kitchen, her wings fluttered behind her bare shoulders. And bare body.
Kir’s eyes took in skin and softness and nipples and, oh...that sweet vee between her legs. “Uh...usually dinner is eaten clothed.”
Why had he said that? He had to get his head around the notion that the woman preferred skyclad. And, as a man, he was all for the blatant tease. But he did need a few safe respites from the kick in his libido. Like eating. Mealtime should be clothed. Maybe?
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