heathen’s kiss

It seemed she had barely turn around to face him before his lips are on hers again. A gasp of surprise escapes her lips before she nearly melted against him, arms snaking around his waist and up his back to his shoulders to keep him close. It was strange at first, walking backwards, eyes closed, but she followed his lead without question, putty in his hands. The backs of her knees hit the bed and she nearly fell (thank you reflexes). But her fingers pressed into his back, anchoring her in place. Phoebe gasped in surprise at ther first little nip on her neck, but moaned quirtly at the second, her head falling back to create more space as she submitted to his minstrations. As fabric briefly separated them, she bit her lower lip with nervousness. Only a thin pair of little shorts covered her bottom half, the rest of her exposed, and she worried briefly he might not be pleased with her less than buxom figure. Surely that was preferable after all. Phoebe Be gentle to all and stern with yourself