we're always running scared but holding knives
The weight and heat of his body is exactly what she craves, even as deft hands sneak between her thighs with the promise of further pleasure. Shifting to rid them of the last of their clothes - which would be laughable if she weren't so impatient - Isla tilts her head to welcome the rough pulling of her hair, the teasing against her clit, the bruising kisses just below her ear. "More," she almost begs, her fingertips threatening to sink blades into his shoulders as they skim down his back.
Sunjata draws back and she can feel the hard length of him pressed against her, and it's almost too much as well as not nearly enough. Leaning up to nip at his lower lip hard enough to draw blood, she tilts her hips up to meet him, her hand sneaking up to tighten in his crop of hair as she stifles her moan against his lips.
"Fuck me hard," she demands, her hips already rolling their encouragement.
Sunjata draws back and she can feel the hard length of him pressed against her, and it's almost too much as well as not nearly enough. Leaning up to nip at his lower lip hard enough to draw blood, she tilts her hips up to meet him, her hand sneaking up to tighten in his crop of hair as she stifles her moan against his lips.
"Fuck me hard," she demands, her hips already rolling their encouragement.
Isla
