Oh my. It's torture. As it starts to melt, the ice cream runs off me in rivulets on to the bed. His lips continue their slow torture, sucking hard, nuzzling, softly - Oh please! - I'm panting.
"Want some?" And before I can confirm or deny his offer, his tongue is in my mouth, and it's cold and skilled and tastes of Christian and vanilla. Delicious.
And just as I am getting used to the sensation, he sits up again and trails a spoonful of ice cream down the center of my body, across my stomach, and into my navel where he deposits a large dollop of ice cream. Oh, this is chillier than before, but weirdly it burns.