If I hold up hell, will you take the blame?
Put the devil’s tongue on my middle name
Put the devil’s tongue on my middle name
That was something they both agreed on, at least. Cordelia shivers, heat curling at the base of her spine and fire licking in her belly, doing a better job at heating her than any hearth might have. Whatever tension lived in her muscles was quick to flee at Frey's touch, urging her to melt against the broad chest at her back, a moan catching behind her teeth.
Lips find her throat, wrenching that sound of pleasure free as her head falls to the side, exposing the slender column to the herald. Hands grip at the thighs that bracket her hips, fingers flexing against muscled flesh, unable to resist holding on to them. Managing a nod, words heavy on her tongue and struggling to form outside of a breathy, "Yes.." The Shrike agrees to the terms laid out before her. "I'll write to him and help however he needs me." She arches, unable to sit still as the pleasure burns through her bones and ignites the blood in her veins.
Lips find her throat, wrenching that sound of pleasure free as her head falls to the side, exposing the slender column to the herald. Hands grip at the thighs that bracket her hips, fingers flexing against muscled flesh, unable to resist holding on to them. Managing a nod, words heavy on her tongue and struggling to form outside of a breathy, "Yes.." The Shrike agrees to the terms laid out before her. "I'll write to him and help however he needs me." She arches, unable to sit still as the pleasure burns through her bones and ignites the blood in her veins.
Cordelia
