Flora
It feels like her heartbeat might shake the Sugartide hard enough to have her moving in her berth, pounding hot and hard in time with the way Jack's fingers skim over the curve of her ass. The blunt, aching nudge of him against her makes her thighs fall open without hesitation, the anticipation spiking sharp in her belly. And when he finally pushes into her—slow, deliberate, filling—her gasp takes the shape of his name, a sound that’s as relieved as it is greedy, like she’s been waiting ever since the masquerade for this. One hand reaches back without thought, clutching at him with something between desperation and possession, holding him there as though she could keep him inside her by will alone.
When he asks—actually asks—how she wants him, it pulls a small, startled laugh from her, the kind that vibrates through her chest and into the air between them. She knows exactly what she wants, even as her knuckles loosen on the sheets. As much as his hands gripping her hips and thrusting into her drives her wild, there’s something more, something deeper.
She forces herself up onto her knees, calves on either side of his legs, keeping her back arched to keep him deliciously seated inside her. "I want you close," she murmurs, and the word is a pulse in her own ears, thick with heat. She draws one of his arms around and across her shoulders, the crook of his elbow settling snug against her throat, the weight of him there sending a shiver that blooms out through the whole garden of her mind—coral, crimson and deepest gold. The other she guides across the flat plane of her stomach, his palm warm and claiming against her skin. "I want to feel you all around me." To blot out every distraction in her mind as much as to chase away even the seabreeze so that it's only him in everything she can think and feel. "Only, you."
Her back arches further, her hips sliding forward and then rolling back, slow and deliberate, taking every inch of him as though she’s sinking deeper into both the motion and the man. The sensation steals the air from her lungs, the ache low in her belly curling sweet and sharp, and her thoughts flare molten with the satisfaction of having him exactly, perfectly, where she wants him.
When he asks—actually asks—how she wants him, it pulls a small, startled laugh from her, the kind that vibrates through her chest and into the air between them. She knows exactly what she wants, even as her knuckles loosen on the sheets. As much as his hands gripping her hips and thrusting into her drives her wild, there’s something more, something deeper.
She forces herself up onto her knees, calves on either side of his legs, keeping her back arched to keep him deliciously seated inside her. "I want you close," she murmurs, and the word is a pulse in her own ears, thick with heat. She draws one of his arms around and across her shoulders, the crook of his elbow settling snug against her throat, the weight of him there sending a shiver that blooms out through the whole garden of her mind—coral, crimson and deepest gold. The other she guides across the flat plane of her stomach, his palm warm and claiming against her skin. "I want to feel you all around me." To blot out every distraction in her mind as much as to chase away even the seabreeze so that it's only him in everything she can think and feel. "Only, you."
Her back arches further, her hips sliding forward and then rolling back, slow and deliberate, taking every inch of him as though she’s sinking deeper into both the motion and the man. The sensation steals the air from her lungs, the ache low in her belly curling sweet and sharp, and her thoughts flare molten with the satisfaction of having him exactly, perfectly, where she wants him.
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
