candlewax & polaroids on the hardwood floor
Flora melts into Jack’s touch, her body honed instinctively to every rough, deliberate motion he makes. The sharp tweak of her nipple sends another gasp tumbling from her lips as the bright pulse of pain reverberates through her belly and then lower still. Each stolen chapter of her private daydreams becomes something tangible under his hands, and it leaves her utterly undone as he pins her against her counter. Her breath shudders in her throat, her body arching as though offering itself to him without a second thought.
When his question rumbles out—a near-growl that vibrates against her neck—it takes her a moment to gather enough sense to respond. Her lips part as if to reply, but her thoughts are a sinful mess, each one betraying how thoroughly she wants this. Wants him. The teasing pressure of his fingers between her thighs has her biting back a whimper, her hips pressing back against him. Finally, with a sharp inhale, Flora forces out a breathless, incredulous laugh, though it’s threaded with the sort of shaky edge that speaks to how far gone she already is. "Me?!" she manages, twisting just enough to glance over her shoulder at him, her aqua eyes dark with a teasing mix of frustration and desire. "You—" Her words falter into a shiver as his fingers work over her clit, her head tipping forward as if she might find some measure of control in the counter beneath her. "You’re the one making me jealous of a fucking lump of dough," she nearly moans, her voice high and breathless, the accusation punctuated by the way her body shudders against his touch.
Jack’s ability to pull the threads of her most private thoughts and weave them into this molten, overwhelming moment wasn’t fair, but it was entirely him; the only thing missing was the ability to open the window directly before them. The curtains were parted allowing anyone who was strolling by to see in, but the panes had been closed to ward off the Deepfrost chill.
It'd be up to Jack to make her moan loudly enough to be heard through the glass.
When his question rumbles out—a near-growl that vibrates against her neck—it takes her a moment to gather enough sense to respond. Her lips part as if to reply, but her thoughts are a sinful mess, each one betraying how thoroughly she wants this. Wants him. The teasing pressure of his fingers between her thighs has her biting back a whimper, her hips pressing back against him. Finally, with a sharp inhale, Flora forces out a breathless, incredulous laugh, though it’s threaded with the sort of shaky edge that speaks to how far gone she already is. "Me?!" she manages, twisting just enough to glance over her shoulder at him, her aqua eyes dark with a teasing mix of frustration and desire. "You—" Her words falter into a shiver as his fingers work over her clit, her head tipping forward as if she might find some measure of control in the counter beneath her. "You’re the one making me jealous of a fucking lump of dough," she nearly moans, her voice high and breathless, the accusation punctuated by the way her body shudders against his touch.
Jack’s ability to pull the threads of her most private thoughts and weave them into this molten, overwhelming moment wasn’t fair, but it was entirely him; the only thing missing was the ability to open the window directly before them. The curtains were parted allowing anyone who was strolling by to see in, but the panes had been closed to ward off the Deepfrost chill.
It'd be up to Jack to make her moan loudly enough to be heard through the glass.
