flora
Jack will feel the pounding of Flora's heart in the way it shakes any semblance of coherent thought the second her mind tries to form one. There's nothing but the hardness of him against her tongue and the wildfire of heat between her legs, the two separated by skin screaming out to be touched.
The roar of heat that engulfs her thoughts and has the muscles of her stomach clenching so tightly as to have her body trembling with the effort will have to serve as answer enough. She wants to stop, wants to peel her hand from between her thighs and let her heartbeat fall back to a more sustainable pace just for Jack to rile her back up, but gods, she also doesn't. Of course he's better than her hands but the rough knife's edge of his voice has stolen away her ability to think clearly, and—good girl—she's so wet and he's so hard there's no part of her that's remotely capable of denying herself this pleasure right now despite the promise of something better later.
I want you, Flora thinks desperately, the thought a lone ghost of coherence amidst the hurricane crashing through her mind. Her hand against the back of his thigh is suddenly claw-shaped against him, encouraging the motion of his hips forward as the angle of her neck against the couch makes it all too easy for his cock to glide over her tongue and against her throat. Fuck, Jack— Her fingers move faster, tracing his name against her clit as her tongue begs and pleads for more of him.
The roar of heat that engulfs her thoughts and has the muscles of her stomach clenching so tightly as to have her body trembling with the effort will have to serve as answer enough. She wants to stop, wants to peel her hand from between her thighs and let her heartbeat fall back to a more sustainable pace just for Jack to rile her back up, but gods, she also doesn't. Of course he's better than her hands but the rough knife's edge of his voice has stolen away her ability to think clearly, and—good girl—she's so wet and he's so hard there's no part of her that's remotely capable of denying herself this pleasure right now despite the promise of something better later.
I want you, Flora thinks desperately, the thought a lone ghost of coherence amidst the hurricane crashing through her mind. Her hand against the back of his thigh is suddenly claw-shaped against him, encouraging the motion of his hips forward as the angle of her neck against the couch makes it all too easy for his cock to glide over her tongue and against her throat. Fuck, Jack— Her fingers move faster, tracing his name against her clit as her tongue begs and pleads for more of him.
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?
