He groans into the kiss, helpless to hold it back and truthfully not making the attempt, for her tongue is a heated brand in his mouth, and she is pressed so close against him, her hand leaving fire in its wake as it skims down his back. He had not realized, when poets wrote of lovers burning together, that they spoke so truly.
He uses the arm wrapped around her to pull her on top of him, rolling onto his back, delighting in the feel of her weight on top of him, of her warm and willing in his arms. His hands wander over the curves of her, hips and thighs, then settle on her ass, cupping her buttocks firmly. He can't help but roll his pelvis up against hers, and the friction combined with the echo of the act to follow makes him groan again, and he must break off the kiss in order to catch his breath for a moment.
Looking into her eyes, he strokes one hand back up along her spine, then brushes a finger wonderingly against her face, part of him still amazed that he is able to do so, that she permits it, welcomes it. That any of this is real rather than a fever dream.
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sforzinda
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Date: 2018-05-18 11:15 pm (UTC)He uses the arm wrapped around her to pull her on top of him, rolling onto his back, delighting in the feel of her weight on top of him, of her warm and willing in his arms. His hands wander over the curves of her, hips and thighs, then settle on her ass, cupping her buttocks firmly. He can't help but roll his pelvis up against hers, and the friction combined with the echo of the act to follow makes him groan again, and he must break off the kiss in order to catch his breath for a moment.
Looking into her eyes, he strokes one hand back up along her spine, then brushes a finger wonderingly against her face, part of him still amazed that he is able to do so, that she permits it, welcomes it. That any of this is real rather than a fever dream.