Amalia
stop thinking so much
Oh, but she is guilty of all the same, blind to her own host of virtues, wrapped in the shroud of a million flaws. The praise he offers with such conviction makes her shake her head, disbelieving, a silent protest, her cheeks stained red with pleasure. "I was drawn to your constancy, and your humor, and the way you take care of people without asking for anything in return." Raising her hands up to her bare arms, the baker pulls back a little, earnest adoration on her face. "When did you know?" she wonders softly, gazing up through sable eyes. "About... You know. Me?" What could I have possibly done, to earn your love?
He turns away as she reaches for the shampoo, and for a moment she fears her ruse will fail, that he will not fall into her poorly laid and perhaps slightly juvenile trap. But no- he is a warrior, a Savage beast, instincts wrapped in a muscular package, aware and eager and ever alert. In the end it is Amalia who is caught by surprise, his onslaught eliciting a moan from her lips, her breath catching as tongue and hands assault her, making her exhale a shuddering laugh.
She slips down further into his embrace, her body pressing unabashedly against him as she slides into his lap, legs falling comfortably down to either side of his hips. Her hands, however, are preoccupied; as she's maneuvered and enjoyed she has been working as well, uncapping the thick shampoo and taking some on her fingers. Now she slips them into his mane, massaging gently against his scalp, her arms stretched over and around his shoulders, her neck arched in invitation for him to continue his devotions as she works.
you're breaking your own heart
