One might have expected that the feeling of Morgan's hands on his cock would have been all consuming, given just how long it has been - but in truth it's all of it. Her fingers tangled in his hair, the arch and press of her hips against his erection, the whisper of her breath and the taste of her skin; Neron drowns happily in it. His fingers deftly unbuckle her belt, though they grow clumsy at her touch as it slips beneath his waistband.
Moaning against her throat, Neron's fangs barely graze the skin there, and he has to remind himself not to bite down (at least not without permission). "I'll remind you of those words later," he mumbles, just about managing a smile, though it's exquisitely difficult to keep his concentration when his hips want to move in tandem with her hand. Eventually her belt does come unbuckled, Neron reluctantly sitting back to help her out of the rest of her clothes. He takes a second simply to admire her, steel blue eyes roving across her body.
