we write out the ends on our palms, then forget to read
Flora watches Danta fall apart with a delighted, victorious gleam in her eyes, drinking in every shudder, every moan, every flicker of exquisite pleasure that crosses his face. He’s putting on a show, and gods, she appreciates it—relishes it, even—in a way that makes her wonder why Jack has always been so opposed to her theatrics even when they are just for his benefit. As Danta cums, Flora grips the base of his cock tight, holding him against her as he rides out his climax.
The strangest part, though, is that she can’t feel it. Not in the way she’s used to. No rush of heat, no spark of pleasure humming through her, no physical gratification beyond the way her muscles burn from exertion. It’s an odd, almost dissociative experience—bringing someone to climax without feeling anything at all herself (BJs excluded)—but Flora focuses instead on the satisfaction curling low in her belly, the rush of excitement that comes from thinking about fucking Jack in this way.
Panting lightly, she straightens, withdrawing from him with slow, deliberate care. Her fingernails trace a featherlight path down his spine as she does, hoping to send aftershocks skittering through his nerves, teasing out the last tremors of his pleasure. "Welllllll," she drawls, grinning. "How’d I do?" As if she doesn’t already know the answer.
The strangest part, though, is that she can’t feel it. Not in the way she’s used to. No rush of heat, no spark of pleasure humming through her, no physical gratification beyond the way her muscles burn from exertion. It’s an odd, almost dissociative experience—bringing someone to climax without feeling anything at all herself (BJs excluded)—but Flora focuses instead on the satisfaction curling low in her belly, the rush of excitement that comes from thinking about fucking Jack in this way.
Panting lightly, she straightens, withdrawing from him with slow, deliberate care. Her fingernails trace a featherlight path down his spine as she does, hoping to send aftershocks skittering through his nerves, teasing out the last tremors of his pleasure. "Welllllll," she drawls, grinning. "How’d I do?" As if she doesn’t already know the answer.
