when it's just the two of us, only the two of us
Isla's lips part as if to say something, before she realises quite abruptly that she has nothing to say. Her time as part of Remi, as wonderful and involved as it was, is just as he has said. It wasn't really there, and these days it's something Isla remembers as an intuitive closeness, a fondness so intimate that it's a mockery to try and replicate it. And yet here they are anyway. So instead of trying to give voice to something impossible, Isla merely presses Remi close, stroking a hand through his curls and down the back of his neck where, quite suddenly, feathers and furs fight for dominance.
"Oh--!" It's as much of a response as she can provide as the Lullaby's kisses trail once again down the soft flesh of her belly and hips, and her thighs spread to welcome him all over again. "Remi..." It's a languid sigh of pure indulgence as his tongue presses against her, both too little and too much all at once.
"Oh--!" It's as much of a response as she can provide as the Lullaby's kisses trail once again down the soft flesh of her belly and hips, and her thighs spread to welcome him all over again. "Remi..." It's a languid sigh of pure indulgence as his tongue presses against her, both too little and too much all at once.
i could die
Isla
