when it's just the two of us, only the two of us
Missionary might be plain as far as some of Remi's sexual deviances might go, but considering this delicate balance they both walk, it's probably safest - and it's no less gratifying for that care. Isla's hips rock and buck against him as he thrusts up and buries himself deeper within her, and the feel of him, rock hard with his arousal, has her moaning encouragement into his ear. They fit flush against one another, legs locked and bodies rolling in a rhythm that still seems painfully slow compared to the acrobatics they might yet perform.
Nevertheless, Remi is hitting all the right spots, and having climaxed once already, Isla is already feels that fire in her belly begin to kindle a second time. "Remi--" Isla's hand moves gladly to his thigh, claws puncturing into the flesh there without hesitation, as if she might anchor him ever deeper inside her. Her free hand moves to draw his mouth up against hers; her kiss is needy and desperate and punctuated with fangs. It's a suggestion or a threat or a promise - Remi can decide.
"Fuck me," she moans into his mouth. "Hard. I want to be screaming your name."
Nevertheless, Remi is hitting all the right spots, and having climaxed once already, Isla is already feels that fire in her belly begin to kindle a second time. "Remi--" Isla's hand moves gladly to his thigh, claws puncturing into the flesh there without hesitation, as if she might anchor him ever deeper inside her. Her free hand moves to draw his mouth up against hers; her kiss is needy and desperate and punctuated with fangs. It's a suggestion or a threat or a promise - Remi can decide.
"Fuck me," she moans into his mouth. "Hard. I want to be screaming your name."
i could die
Isla
