RONIN
Amalia isn’t the only one laughing, Ronin jumping in surprise at the sudden feel of a tail slipping around him, and he raises hooded eyes up to her face with a smirk slanting across his lips. ”I won’t ask,” he says, already busy and distracted by the sight of her, arched up off the counter, all pale flesh and smouldering looks.
Tossing the breeches aside, Ronin takes his time on the journey back up to Amalia’s mouth. His fingers ghost over her calves, lips whispering against the inside of her thighs. He’s grinning, as he’s sure she’ll feel, and he purposely avoids the place he really wants to linger, tongue flicking over her navel, the modest swell of her breasts.
”Fuck,” he whispers against the column of Amalia’s throat; the ache in his cock is almost unbearable by now, Ronin reclaiming her lips as he finally straightens up. His hands slip beneath her, lifting her further off the counter, and he presses closer; close enough to feel the heat of her, to feel her arousal, but not quite there. ”Do you believe it yet?” he wants to know.
Tossing the breeches aside, Ronin takes his time on the journey back up to Amalia’s mouth. His fingers ghost over her calves, lips whispering against the inside of her thighs. He’s grinning, as he’s sure she’ll feel, and he purposely avoids the place he really wants to linger, tongue flicking over her navel, the modest swell of her breasts.
”Fuck,” he whispers against the column of Amalia’s throat; the ache in his cock is almost unbearable by now, Ronin reclaiming her lips as he finally straightens up. His hands slip beneath her, lifting her further off the counter, and he presses closer; close enough to feel the heat of her, to feel her arousal, but not quite there. ”Do you believe it yet?” he wants to know.
one more wish for you
