in these trying times we're not trying

Maeve

He lowers her back onto the rug gently and her limbs are heavy with that post orgasm buzz. She lazily lifts a hand, cupping his cheek and letting her thumb brush over his bottom lip before she guides him to her for a sweet kiss. The woman doesn't care that her essence is smeared across his lips, if anything she take her time in tasting herself on his tongue, sighing into the kiss. Maeve pulls back with a small smile, scooting closer to him so she's tucked into his side as his feathers tease over her tattoo. The question pulls a quiet laugh from her as she tries not to squirm as the feathers tickle her ribs. "Depends on the day and depends on the person." She answers with a hum, meeting his gaze with heavy eyes, "What do you think I am?" The Madame arches a brow, fingers trailing over his bare chest, being careful to avoid the starburst at the center of his chest.

Maeve can feel him hard and straining against her hips, plans to do something about that already forming in her head. Maybe she'll let him have her mouth first. Maybe she'll use her hand as she straddles his thighs. Maybe she'll grind against him. So many options and all of them are at her disposal, but she's not sure how far the beastie in her bed will let her get with her plans given the fact he doesn't like being told what to do. Only one way for her to find out. The girl moves, rolling onto her side and pushing at his shoulder to urge him onto his back so she can attempt to straddle him.

Poor little girl
still waiting for her happy ending