melita
The chase heightened the pulse of her boldness, the wild laughter ricocheting and bounding through her lungs. Glee, enthusiasm, sedition, all combining in an imploring, enticing facet – she’d known the imminent tackle was incoming. Probably welcomed it just as much as all the other snares she’d left behind; lures, temptations, the way they alternated from ridiculous amusements to toying with far more fire. All it required was a swift turn of her head and they were sharing; any comeback or retort faded behind her teeth. His mouth came over hers and she could feel the flutter in her ribcage, those feelings engulfing just as readily as all her other rampant, covetous emotions.
Greedy, she grinned, absorbed and engulfed and trying to do the same to him. Her hands swept upward, clutching at his jaw, running along the stubble (if the cheesecake and berries smeared further, so be it) while lips melded; no less eager or fervent. Somewhere in the midst she’d ended up against one of the larger rocks, propped up by stone, surrounded by him and not balking. Instead, she took, snaked, and snagged, one hand liberating his face to begin its natural slide down the course of his chest, feeling the bunch of muscles beneath the fabric of his shirt.
Only when he drew away could she open her eyes and glance at him, taking a deep breath, gaze searching his. “Mm…I suppose I don’t mind sharing this,” as a concession and a tease – but then again, he’d always offered himself, little by little; maybe she’d been the closed off one, far more inclined to feud and fend off. Snorting in amusement, mostly to herself, she persisted in altering that fact, mouth closing upon his again, teeth purposefully dragged along his bottom lip.
salvation doesn't look like light
