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The first drop splattered against her back, black droplets on white skin and the contrast was lovely. She whined but it wasn't pain that brought the sound to her throat, just shock at the sensation. The next drop fell closer to her skin, the wax more tightly defined, pooling where it landed. He stroked a fingernail along the reddening skin at the edge of the first drop. Black, red, white and she shivered at the touch. He let the wax gather again beneath the flame before painting a line down the center of her back and this time the sound that left her throat was pain and more, delicious to his ears and her hips rocked into the bed.
He ran one hand over the curve of her ass, dipped his fingers between her legs as the next drops fell on the crest of that curve. She rubbed against his fingers, already slick and aching. She pressed back, up, trying to increase the touch of his fingers and he pulled away and was rewarded with his name falling from her lips in a frustrated moan. He drizzled a stream of wax that spilled over the lower curve of her ass, coursed down and ran along the inside of her thigh. She gasped and shuddered, tried to spread her legs but they were trapped under his. He moved, freeing her, murmured for her to roll over.
Wax flaked away as she moved, scattering over the sheets, sticking to their sweat-slicked skin. He settled over her again pinning her thighs beneath his. He rolled one nipple between his fingers, held her eyes as he moved the candle over the pink flesh. The spill of wax drew a moan from her, the sound gaining pitch as he trailed the wax between her breasts to the other nipple, coating it as well. She panted under him and he pealed the still-warm wax off the first nipple, closing his lips over it, soothing and maddening. She arched up and he bit down gently on her nipple, catching it between his teeth and flicking his tongue against it. He moved his head and dripped the wax slowly over the stiff, wet peak and she clenched her hands in the sheets at her sides.
He moved his hand, hovering over the lower slope of her breast, wax following the motion. Down her belly that flinched at each drop, down to the smooth skin of her mound, bared just for this, just for him. He shifted off of her, stroked the inside of her thighs with his free hand. He met her eyes, permission and confirmation passed between them and he lowered a kiss to the soft skin. He held his hand higher now, drops splattering only warmly, and she lifted her hip, whined for more. Lower and the wax pooled and coated and she cried out. He slid his fingers over her swollen folds, into the heat of her body, his thumb pressed against her. He let the wax spill around his fingers and she sobbed wordlessly, arching off the bed as she shattered.