Isla
Isla doesn't know if she wants to say good in response to Remi's remark, or if she wants to feign offence that he can't recall the previous time she's been kneeling between his legs. In the end (of course) she says nothing at all, her fingers curling around the base of his cock to give it a firm squeeze, just as her lips and tongue envelop him, taking him in as much as she can. Humming out a near purr of satisfaction, the sound thrumming around his length, Isla moves slowly and teasingly, luxuriating in the realisation of something that's almost dark in its delight.
Mine, comes the thought unbidden. Yes, there's Ronin. But Ronin is another entity entirely, a separate realm that Isla has no interest in crossing into. But when it comes to Remi, to how he feels about her and how he feels about any woman who isn't her? The possessive gratification that brings is beyond anything Isla expects to feel. It has her fingers tipped with claws, it has her taking Remi again and again, her hands moving in tandem with her mouth in a relentless and passionate rhythm.
Mine, comes the thought unbidden. Yes, there's Ronin. But Ronin is another entity entirely, a separate realm that Isla has no interest in crossing into. But when it comes to Remi, to how he feels about her and how he feels about any woman who isn't her? The possessive gratification that brings is beyond anything Isla expects to feel. It has her fingers tipped with claws, it has her taking Remi again and again, her hands moving in tandem with her mouth in a relentless and passionate rhythm.
we're gonna separate ourselves tonight
we're always running scared but holding knives
we're always running scared but holding knives
