yeah I got heartbreak that I reminisce about
Flora finds herself laughing along with him, helplessly, breathlessly, that rare kind of laugh that bubbles up straight from the belly and leaves her flushed anew, cheeks pink and lips parted as if his joy alone could undo her. Jack’s laughter is such a rare and disarming thing, sharp and wild and real, that for a moment she can’t tell if she’s warm from the sex, or just the aftershocks of being in his orbit.
Rolling her eyes with exaggerated affection, she places a hand on her hip, looking down at him with the kind of smirk that could only come after sex and a well-timed punch to the heart. "Please. If you proposed with anything at all, I’d probably check to make sure you weren’t having a stroke," she quips, though her tone is so full of fondness it softens the edge into silk.
She gestures, then, to the riot of white blossoms scattered all around them. Her brow arches, golden and pointed. "Sure you won’t," she echoes, dry as rum and twice as warm. "Because you're so very subtle with your emotions these days." But, knowing what he'd actually meant, Flora offers him a shrug that almost looks innocent. "It’s only fair," she says, voice light but honest. "I told them all the bad things, seems right I tell them the good, too." Biting at the inside of her cheek, she adds, "the really good things."
At his question, her grin turns wicked, all sin and satin as she steps closer. "Pfft, I said I was going to start the drama since no one else was going to." But even Flora isn’t so reckless as to face the whole masquerade looking like she’s just been thoroughly fucked against a tree. "But, I probably should go and find Niki," she continues, reaching up to brush her thumb along the corner of his mouth, wiping away the smears of red she’d left there earlier. The gesture is soft and entirely unhurried, as if her fingers are reluctant to leave him.
"He's the one with our makeup bag, and this," she gestures to her face, her hair, the state of her back and dress, "is more of tell about what we did than just walking out of the woods with you."
Rolling her eyes with exaggerated affection, she places a hand on her hip, looking down at him with the kind of smirk that could only come after sex and a well-timed punch to the heart. "Please. If you proposed with anything at all, I’d probably check to make sure you weren’t having a stroke," she quips, though her tone is so full of fondness it softens the edge into silk.
She gestures, then, to the riot of white blossoms scattered all around them. Her brow arches, golden and pointed. "Sure you won’t," she echoes, dry as rum and twice as warm. "Because you're so very subtle with your emotions these days." But, knowing what he'd actually meant, Flora offers him a shrug that almost looks innocent. "It’s only fair," she says, voice light but honest. "I told them all the bad things, seems right I tell them the good, too." Biting at the inside of her cheek, she adds, "the really good things."
At his question, her grin turns wicked, all sin and satin as she steps closer. "Pfft, I said I was going to start the drama since no one else was going to." But even Flora isn’t so reckless as to face the whole masquerade looking like she’s just been thoroughly fucked against a tree. "But, I probably should go and find Niki," she continues, reaching up to brush her thumb along the corner of his mouth, wiping away the smears of red she’d left there earlier. The gesture is soft and entirely unhurried, as if her fingers are reluctant to leave him.
"He's the one with our makeup bag, and this," she gestures to her face, her hair, the state of her back and dress, "is more of tell about what we did than just walking out of the woods with you."
some real big things I still gotta figure out
