Maeve
Maeve doesn't need to figure anything out. This is something she knows well and she's yet to show him just how well she knows it. Not for lack of trying. They just never had time. They never made it this far. Too interested in the other things they could take from each other. Maeve was just as much of a giver as Locke, sweet and willing to do what was asked of her, but only when asked properly. Locke didn't ask, but that doesn't matter. Not when she's speaking the same silent language he is, only interrupted by shuddered breaths and strangled moans. Maeve hollows out her cheeks, sucking hard as her tongue presses against the underside of his cock, keeping that pressure constant as she begins to set a pace that's little more than teasing.
He's smart to stop her from pulling away, a retort already dying on her tongue as he presses in deeper, rolling his hips forward to slip along her tongue. Maeve sighs, lashes fluttering as she draws in breaths through her nose, relaxing her jaw so he might more easily thrust into her mouth. The Madame wants this just as much as he does and if she has her way, she might make him finish like this too only so he can make it up to her later. It's a twisted little game they're playing and she aims to win.
One of her hands slips from his hip to cup his balls instead, rolling them gently in her palm as she bobs her head, taking him even deeper into her throat. There is a moment of pause as she adjusts, feeling him bump the back of it, but it passes quickly and soon she's taking him almost too the root. Spit gathers at the corners of her reddened lips, eyes opening to peek up at him from beneath dark lashes, challenge dancing in her irises as she swallows around him.
He's smart to stop her from pulling away, a retort already dying on her tongue as he presses in deeper, rolling his hips forward to slip along her tongue. Maeve sighs, lashes fluttering as she draws in breaths through her nose, relaxing her jaw so he might more easily thrust into her mouth. The Madame wants this just as much as he does and if she has her way, she might make him finish like this too only so he can make it up to her later. It's a twisted little game they're playing and she aims to win.
One of her hands slips from his hip to cup his balls instead, rolling them gently in her palm as she bobs her head, taking him even deeper into her throat. There is a moment of pause as she adjusts, feeling him bump the back of it, but it passes quickly and soon she's taking him almost too the root. Spit gathers at the corners of her reddened lips, eyes opening to peek up at him from beneath dark lashes, challenge dancing in her irises as she swallows around him.
But I don't like a gold rush, gold rush
I don't like slow motion double vision in rose blush
I don't like slow motion double vision in rose blush
