Maeve
There is a clear imbalance between their state of dress. With her shorts gone she's left in only the thin scrap of material that makes up her camisole. It's sheer and light and hardly leaves anything to the imagination. Even that is barely covering her at the moment. With the way he has it pushed up so only one of her tits is out and the other is haphazardly covered. It makes it incredibly clear that this isn't about his pleasure. Not at the moment, at least.
The realization makes her stomach twist with nerves and her heart beat hard against her ribs. She's never been so nervous before. Never so concerned that her partner would enjoy her because they always do when they're using her. Except he's not using her. At least it doesn't feel that way. Which is incredibly problematic. She doesn't know what it means to not be used for someone's pleasure. All of her sex has been like that. From her very first time up until now.
Before she can dwell too much longer on those thoughts, his lips are on her skin again. Dancing over the soft skin of her belly and paying special attention to her hips. He seems to like them with the way he keeps kissing them. The roughness of his palms is a sharp contrast against the smoothness of her legs and it makes her shiver when he finally spreads her thighs.
The blush on her cheeks somehow growing darker when he marks the pale flesh of her thigh. Her breath catches in her throat as he dips his head to breathe her in and for a second she forgets how to breathe all together at the first swipe of his tongue. Barely enough pressure to do anything, but it makes her squirm, hips shifting restlessly beneath his mouth. She's rewarded when his grip tightens and his tongue becomes more insistent where it's found her clit. Maeve moans. The sound seeming loud in the quiet of the room. Her fingers clench into the sheets and she can't help the way her hips stutter forward in search of more friction.
He really does know how to use his mouth.
The realization makes her stomach twist with nerves and her heart beat hard against her ribs. She's never been so nervous before. Never so concerned that her partner would enjoy her because they always do when they're using her. Except he's not using her. At least it doesn't feel that way. Which is incredibly problematic. She doesn't know what it means to not be used for someone's pleasure. All of her sex has been like that. From her very first time up until now.
Before she can dwell too much longer on those thoughts, his lips are on her skin again. Dancing over the soft skin of her belly and paying special attention to her hips. He seems to like them with the way he keeps kissing them. The roughness of his palms is a sharp contrast against the smoothness of her legs and it makes her shiver when he finally spreads her thighs.
The blush on her cheeks somehow growing darker when he marks the pale flesh of her thigh. Her breath catches in her throat as he dips his head to breathe her in and for a second she forgets how to breathe all together at the first swipe of his tongue. Barely enough pressure to do anything, but it makes her squirm, hips shifting restlessly beneath his mouth. She's rewarded when his grip tightens and his tongue becomes more insistent where it's found her clit. Maeve moans. The sound seeming loud in the quiet of the room. Her fingers clench into the sheets and she can't help the way her hips stutter forward in search of more friction.
He really does know how to use his mouth.
Poor little girl
still waiting for her happy ending
still waiting for her happy ending
