Amalia
stop thinking so much
Lips meet lips in an ardent kiss, hungry and searching as though she were not sated, as though she has not already taken again and again and again. Her other arm reaches for his hair, slipping down the curve of his neck, his shoulders, his back, down and down, searching for the edge of the towel, eager to free him from that last constraint. Long fingers at last reach the cloth, and she grins against his mouth, dark eyes glittering-
-Only to have him pull away, a mewl of protest on her lips as she is left without his warmth.
Pushing herself up on her elbows Amalia watches him walk away, a mixture of relief and frustration pushing through her stomach. She wants to pursue him, to tackle and take him into her, to draw out her victory and claim her prize. Ah, but there is a consolation; the girl's face flushes as he draws off the towel, leaving her with a spectacular view, all intention of mischief and mayhem gone as easily as the cloth.
"Hmm?" she answers distractedly, reluctantly raking her hooded gaze back to his face. "Ah- the one closest to the door, I guess," the girl replies, practicality suddenly making her aware of the hour, of responsibilities waiting with the dawn. Sitting up Amalia sighs, running her fingers through her hair in a futile attempt to detangle it. "I'll have to get up and leave early, to go to the bakery. I wouldn't want to wake you."
you're breaking your own heart
