Maeve
His words are pressed into her skin, teeth punctuating each sentence just to drive his point home, leaving the reminders with imprints in her skin. Maeve sighs, eyes fluttering shut for a moment as she relaxes into it, enjoying the sparks of pleasure cut by pain. Her whole body is singing for him, arching and twisting in a vain attempt to find some relief, but he doesn't give in to her. Not yet. Not when he's clearly having fun learning each curve and crevice of her body, memorizing every peak and valley that makes up her person, leaving her a panting mes beneath him. "Locke.." His name is nothing more than an exhale, catching in the middle as she arches, cunt clenching around nothing as he continues to tease her.
She's aching so badly it hurts, a slick mess between her thighs that drives her beyond crazy as her hips cant up, searching for a friction that isn't there. He pauses at her hip, tongue tracing over the sharp jut, her skin missing the bruises of his fingertips and it almost doesn't look right not to have them there. Finally he settles between her thighs, spreading them with his shoulders as he lays on his belly, hands bracing on the outside of them to keep her spread for him. Maeve whines, drawing her bottom lip between her teeth as her fingers tighten in his hair, trying to draw him forward so he might relieve this pressure that's been building in her belly since she arrived at camp. "Please Locke... Mon amour, I need you so badly. Voulez-vous que je mendie?"
The language flows off her tongue so easily in moments like these, the words wrapping around them melodically, drawing them both deeper into the moment. While he might not understand, the intention behind them in clear, trying to make him cave. "Pour ta bite? Ta langue? Je le ferai si c'est ce que tu veux."
She's aching so badly it hurts, a slick mess between her thighs that drives her beyond crazy as her hips cant up, searching for a friction that isn't there. He pauses at her hip, tongue tracing over the sharp jut, her skin missing the bruises of his fingertips and it almost doesn't look right not to have them there. Finally he settles between her thighs, spreading them with his shoulders as he lays on his belly, hands bracing on the outside of them to keep her spread for him. Maeve whines, drawing her bottom lip between her teeth as her fingers tighten in his hair, trying to draw him forward so he might relieve this pressure that's been building in her belly since she arrived at camp. "Please Locke... Mon amour, I need you so badly. Voulez-vous que je mendie?"
The language flows off her tongue so easily in moments like these, the words wrapping around them melodically, drawing them both deeper into the moment. While he might not understand, the intention behind them in clear, trying to make him cave. "Pour ta bite? Ta langue? Je le ferai si c'est ce que tu veux."
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
