flora
"Mmmm." Maybe it was because it wasn't the sort of thing that Flora had ever been properly exposed to or simply because she was thinking about it too much, but in her mind if there wasn't some element of resistance—of reality—then it was all just for pretend. Then again, given who she was currently dating, perhaps it wasn't so surprising at all that her penchant for pretend was rapidly dwindling.
"It might surprise you to learn that I've never used a whip before." Flora sasses over one shoulder before adjusting her grip and holding it as one might the bow of an instrument. "Well, if the dirty romance novels had images of people you knew." She counters. It was one thing to know members of his crew were having an affair, for example. It's another to walk by them and be all but swamped with the images of it.
Twisting as Jack's hands softly contour over her curves, Flora tosses the whip onto the bed. Casually unfastening the two buttons holding up her overalls, the top falls down to her waist, the remaining portion still snug around her hips. The lacy black bralette she'd chosen was intentionally revealing, the spiderwork pattern of lace barely disguising the dusky jut of her nipples beneath. She'd worn it for Jack of course, but also in the hopes that as they strolled around the city, more than a few would find themselves frustrated by the sight of her bare waist but barely covered breasts. Smiling at him, Flora turns, considering the couch for a moment. No doubt it was made with someone like her mind, whose curves, flexibility, and long legs could take full advantage of its shape.
Sinking down into the middle of it and fitting her back against one of the larger portions, as she leans her head back, it's likely no coincidence at all that it places her mouth almost exactly at waist height.
"It might surprise you to learn that I've never used a whip before." Flora sasses over one shoulder before adjusting her grip and holding it as one might the bow of an instrument. "Well, if the dirty romance novels had images of people you knew." She counters. It was one thing to know members of his crew were having an affair, for example. It's another to walk by them and be all but swamped with the images of it.
Twisting as Jack's hands softly contour over her curves, Flora tosses the whip onto the bed. Casually unfastening the two buttons holding up her overalls, the top falls down to her waist, the remaining portion still snug around her hips. The lacy black bralette she'd chosen was intentionally revealing, the spiderwork pattern of lace barely disguising the dusky jut of her nipples beneath. She'd worn it for Jack of course, but also in the hopes that as they strolled around the city, more than a few would find themselves frustrated by the sight of her bare waist but barely covered breasts. Smiling at him, Flora turns, considering the couch for a moment. No doubt it was made with someone like her mind, whose curves, flexibility, and long legs could take full advantage of its shape.
Sinking down into the middle of it and fitting her back against one of the larger portions, as she leans her head back, it's likely no coincidence at all that it places her mouth almost exactly at waist height.
i scream for whatever it's worth
"i love you" ain't that the worst thing you've ever heard?
"i love you" ain't that the worst thing you've ever heard?
