we're always running scared but holding knives
"Based on the attention you paid my finger yesterday, I doubt I'll have any complaints," Isla murmurs to him, her voice laced with dark mischief, though as her thighs slip over his shoulders any further remarks will have to stay locked behind her teeth. Well, no, that's a lie - it's just that she won't exactly be having a conversation with him the next time he hears her voice.
And it won't take long, either; drawing in a shivering breath and trying to arch against the kisses he leaves along her thighs, Isla's toes curl and her heels dig gently into Remi's shoulders, as if she might spur him on that way. "Gods," she sighs out, the word morphing into a moan of surprise and pleasure to feel his tongue slip against her. Head tipping back against the bed, Isla's hand strays southward of its own accord, and while she's not the type to brutishly shove his head between her thighs, the encouragement is definitely there as her fingers brush through his crop of hair.
And it won't take long, either; drawing in a shivering breath and trying to arch against the kisses he leaves along her thighs, Isla's toes curl and her heels dig gently into Remi's shoulders, as if she might spur him on that way. "Gods," she sighs out, the word morphing into a moan of surprise and pleasure to feel his tongue slip against her. Head tipping back against the bed, Isla's hand strays southward of its own accord, and while she's not the type to brutishly shove his head between her thighs, the encouragement is definitely there as her fingers brush through his crop of hair.
Isla
