when it's just the two of us, only the two of us
The pain is as delicious as the pleasure, in truth, and every mark and every bruise is savoured as something brutally necessary. He doubles down and Isla is unable to take it any longer, the roll of his tongue and the press of his fingers working in tandem to throw her over the edge. Her mind blanks to white noise as everything that makes her up is overidden by ecstasy - his name rings from her lips like a curse or a prayer, her legs spread for him, fingers tight in his curls. Isla's orgasm rocks through her in waves, each one more intense than the last, like a dam finally broken under the pressure of all that has built behind it.
She has no idea when her mind finally clears enough to think again, only that her cheeks are hot and her chest heaves with a breath she doesn't need to catch. A silvery sheen of sweat has broken out across her body, and it's with an utterly satisfied moan that she finally lets her fingers grow slack. If those very same fingers were tipped with claws at any point, she'll apologise later. For now, there's a breathless laugh building at the back of her throat, and she lolls her chin down to look at Remi.
"The first one is definitely the best."
She has no idea when her mind finally clears enough to think again, only that her cheeks are hot and her chest heaves with a breath she doesn't need to catch. A silvery sheen of sweat has broken out across her body, and it's with an utterly satisfied moan that she finally lets her fingers grow slack. If those very same fingers were tipped with claws at any point, she'll apologise later. For now, there's a breathless laugh building at the back of her throat, and she lolls her chin down to look at Remi.
"The first one is definitely the best."
i could die
Isla
