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"Admiring yourself?" she said when she came out.
He didn't respond. She came, stood beside him.
"You're still handsome, baby, don't worry about it."
He looked at her and smiled.
She touched his chest then kissed his upper lip, his neck and then she moaned.
She slid a hand under his sweater, touched his bare chest. Her fingers drifted over his nipple, then down his chest. She rubbed him softly through his jeans then her hands went to his belt.
"Wait a minute . . ." he breathed.
"Shhh." She put a fingertip to his lips.
She reached down, caught the edge of her sweater, drew it up over her head, and shook her hair free of it. The bra was sheer white lace, her nipples hard beneath it. She tossed the sweater on the bed behind them, reached for his belt again, and unsnapped his jeans. He watched in the mirror and she tugged slightly, freed him.
She looked into his eyes, started to kneel.
"You don't have to do this," he said and then he was in her mouth and he felt himself cry out softly, almost involuntarily. He looked at her in the mirror as she worked him with her hand and mouth, felt the heat rising inside.
"Here," he said. He reached down, started to pull her up. She resisted at first, her hand and mouth moving faster, but he drew her up and off him. She looked at him, puzzled at first, and he kissed her hard, feeling the pain in his lip. His tongue slid into her mouth and she sucked on it, closed her eyes, her right hand still on him, stroking. He bent, tucked his right arm beneath her knees, lifted her up.
She looked at him as he carried her to the bed, set her on the sheets.
"You're beautiful," he said and she touched his swollen lip again, shutting him up.
"Don't talk," she said.
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