Isla
"I know," Isla murmurs breathlessly against his shoulder, gasping as he moves of his own accord to encourage further friction between them. "It's what all the fuss is about, right?" she tells him, smiling a few kisses along the side of his neck before - and it's not without some reluctance, granted - peeling herself away and stepping back enough for her dress to pool carelessly around her feet.
Left in only her underwear, she reaches out to snag him by the waist of his pants (a garment which must feel strangling by now, she thinks), ferrying him forward so she might walk them towards her bedroom. "Do you want to keep going?" she asks - not because she doesn't want to - and the mere fact that she's guiding him to her bed ought to say as much - but because she's suddenly aware of the sheer overwhelm that seems to be seizing the aviator.
Left in only her underwear, she reaches out to snag him by the waist of his pants (a garment which must feel strangling by now, she thinks), ferrying him forward so she might walk them towards her bedroom. "Do you want to keep going?" she asks - not because she doesn't want to - and the mere fact that she's guiding him to her bed ought to say as much - but because she's suddenly aware of the sheer overwhelm that seems to be seizing the aviator.
I'll take a bruise, I know you're worth it
When you hit me, hit me hard
When you hit me, hit me hard
