[She gasps as he scoops her up, but good, he's not all talk, either. He's every bit as confident as he should be, and fuck if it isn't a welcomed change. He holds her steady with strong arms and practiced hands, and there's none of the fumbling to tug his cock out at the first opportunity, the rush to see her naked—he takes his time with the towel, but she gasps again as his fingers brush her bare skin.
Mm, it's tempting to say fuck the plan and let this happen. She's gone over a week now with just a shitty vibrator and her fingers to get the job done, and now that she's in his lap, it's going to take real effort to leave. He's warm and rough and sharper than he should be by the taste of him, but it's not as if her head isn't swimming, too. It's the scratch of his beard against her lips and the weight of his arms around her that keeps her tethered.
With the towel gone, she rises on her knees, arching to press her body flush with his. Her hands splay over his chest to relish the feel of him under her, the heat of him, and as her hands dip, the stiffness gathering between his legs. Atta boy. She's warming up herself.
Which means it's time to dial it down, before she really loses her way. It's perfect timing, too, as that's when he pulls back. She lets him, running the back of her hand over her lips before returning to his chest, his shoulders...]
You're gonna be trouble, I can tell.
[It's meant to pad his ego, but she's not lying. At this rate, he's going to be as useful as he is distracting.]
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Mm, it's tempting to say fuck the plan and let this happen. She's gone over a week now with just a shitty vibrator and her fingers to get the job done, and now that she's in his lap, it's going to take real effort to leave. He's warm and rough and sharper than he should be by the taste of him, but it's not as if her head isn't swimming, too. It's the scratch of his beard against her lips and the weight of his arms around her that keeps her tethered.
With the towel gone, she rises on her knees, arching to press her body flush with his. Her hands splay over his chest to relish the feel of him under her, the heat of him, and as her hands dip, the stiffness gathering between his legs. Atta boy. She's warming up herself.
Which means it's time to dial it down, before she really loses her way. It's perfect timing, too, as that's when he pulls back. She lets him, running the back of her hand over her lips before returning to his chest, his shoulders...]
You're gonna be trouble, I can tell.
[It's meant to pad his ego, but she's not lying. At this rate, he's going to be as useful as he is distracting.]