we're always running scared but holding knives
Isla's lips and tongue are too busy to reply the way she wants to, but it doesn't seem to matter either way; her body and her moans will give Sunjata all the encouragement he needs. While he sheds his shirt, she continues to unbutton his pants, gasping into his kiss as his fingertips tease over her breasts. "The bed," she mumbles, before she completely disregards everything in lieu of having sex on the floor.
But if he'll let her, she'll tug him backwards (by the open pants, of course) towards the back of the room, down into crisp sheets and plump pillows. Hooking her legs around Sunjata's waist, Isla's touch is rough but thorough, as if she can't get enough of him. (Which she can't, obviously).
But if he'll let her, she'll tug him backwards (by the open pants, of course) towards the back of the room, down into crisp sheets and plump pillows. Hooking her legs around Sunjata's waist, Isla's touch is rough but thorough, as if she can't get enough of him. (Which she can't, obviously).
Isla
