Evie
tell me all of the things
that make you feel at ease
She has no doubt that any of her clawing, craving, clutching would do little to impact his own plans, but she exhales something too thready to be a laugh and arches subtly into the sensation of his beard and lips traveling down her neck anyway as she affects a tone of gratitude. “How generous.” Playfulness aside, that’s precisely the kind of lover he is, and Evie’s thighs shake as his fingers brush and caress, never quite where it would feel best but stoking the embers and flames of sensation and arousal. Her body arches slow and luxurious, soft little sighs and whimpers at every sensitive spot he skirts past, and then a strained noise that evolves into a gasp of his name as his mouth descends far enough to torture the peak of her breast. With no rules to follow, her hands bury into his hair - not controlling, but idly clenching around the roots, thighs converging until she feels his hand between and reminds herself to relax lest she impede his lovely ministrations.
