Flora
There’s a delicious moment of weightlessness as Jack leans them forward into the bed, and it pulls a gasp from her—bright and unrestrained—followed by the instinctive clutch of her fingers into his shoulders. The sharp exhale that escapes when his weight pins her into the plush mattress is nothing short of exquisite, and it’s stolen from her far too soon. Flora lets the air go in a huff of amused disappointment as he draws back, the loss of him making the cool air feel almost rude against her skin.
When his hand begins its slow, deliberate path from the hollow of her throat, between her breasts, and down to the teasing brush at the waistband of her shorts, it takes every shred of her willpower not to squirm. or worse, to simply demand more. She knows it’s intentional, the deliberate pacing, the way he lets the wanting stretch taut between them, and gods, her thoughts flare with molten sparks, heat trembling through her until she feels unsteady with it.
His words land low in her belly, and the heat between her thighs pulses in response. Colour flashes high across her cheeks and over the bridge of her nose, but she obeys without hesitation, turning so the perfect heart-shape of her ass is squarely within his reach. And because her mind is incapable of staying in the present when the future is so vividly tempting, the next flicker of thought is forward—his body pressed flush to hers, his breath hot against her neck, his fingers biting into her hip as he moves. They’re bright at the forefront of her mind when she swallows, glancing back over her shoulder to meet his gaze with a look that is all want and no disguise.
When his hand begins its slow, deliberate path from the hollow of her throat, between her breasts, and down to the teasing brush at the waistband of her shorts, it takes every shred of her willpower not to squirm. or worse, to simply demand more. She knows it’s intentional, the deliberate pacing, the way he lets the wanting stretch taut between them, and gods, her thoughts flare with molten sparks, heat trembling through her until she feels unsteady with it.
His words land low in her belly, and the heat between her thighs pulses in response. Colour flashes high across her cheeks and over the bridge of her nose, but she obeys without hesitation, turning so the perfect heart-shape of her ass is squarely within his reach. And because her mind is incapable of staying in the present when the future is so vividly tempting, the next flicker of thought is forward—his body pressed flush to hers, his breath hot against her neck, his fingers biting into her hip as he moves. They’re bright at the forefront of her mind when she swallows, glancing back over her shoulder to meet his gaze with a look that is all want and no disguise.
I trace the evidence, make it make some sense
why the wound is still bleedin'
why the wound is still bleedin'
Code stolen from Queen Sky
