Maeve
The admission doesn't surprise her, but she loves to hear it anyway. The words rumbled against her throat as he shifts to draw her into him. Her chest is flush against his, skin heated from alcohol and his touch, but he doesn't let their closeness stop him from touching her. he only sounds in the room come from their breathing and the crackling of the fire, broken up occasionally by exhaled moans and quiet whines as her head tilts back to bare more of her throat to his mouth. Teeth press into the tender flesh beneath them, scratching over her pulse before finding home just below that soft patch of skin below her ear.
Maeve isn't interested in rushing. There isn't a rush right now. Even if she wants him. She wants this to last even more. His fingers speed up just enough that her hips buck and her back arches. Pleasure burns hot in her belly, sparking to life and keeping the pain from taking over her senses. It's starting to ease back in. Just enough that she's noticed it, but she'll be damned if they stop. She'll just take a few more hearty swigs of that whiskey before she settles in for sleep. Maeve doesn't have much time to dwell on it because he's suddenly pressing one thick finger into her.
She keens high in her throat, the sound needy and almost too loud in the quiet of the room they've found themselves in. Maeve's fingers tighten in his hair and she rocks herself forward onto his finger, pressing it deeper into the slick heat of her channel. "Jata... Ça fait du bien. Ne t'arrête pas." She pants, eyes fluttering shut as she writhes in his lap, nails biting into the skin of his shoulder.
Maeve isn't interested in rushing. There isn't a rush right now. Even if she wants him. She wants this to last even more. His fingers speed up just enough that her hips buck and her back arches. Pleasure burns hot in her belly, sparking to life and keeping the pain from taking over her senses. It's starting to ease back in. Just enough that she's noticed it, but she'll be damned if they stop. She'll just take a few more hearty swigs of that whiskey before she settles in for sleep. Maeve doesn't have much time to dwell on it because he's suddenly pressing one thick finger into her.
She keens high in her throat, the sound needy and almost too loud in the quiet of the room they've found themselves in. Maeve's fingers tighten in his hair and she rocks herself forward onto his finger, pressing it deeper into the slick heat of her channel. "Jata... Ça fait du bien. Ne t'arrête pas." She pants, eyes fluttering shut as she writhes in his lap, nails biting into the skin of his shoulder.
Honey just put your sweet lips on my lips
We should just kiss like real people do
We should just kiss like real people do
